The Destroyer - 72 - The Destroyer 072 - Sole Survivor by Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir

Author:Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir [Murphy, Warren & Sapir, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pulp Action
Publisher: PINNACLE BOOKS
Published: 2010-03-19T14:51:45+00:00

Chapter 11

Re­mo Williams brushed past the sec­re­tary.

“I’m sor­ry, sir. Dr. Smith is in con­fer­ence,” the sec­re­tary said.

“He’ll see me,” Re­mo snapped, tight-​lipped.

The bo­somy wom­an jumped to her feet and put her head in­to Smith’s of­fice one step ahead of Re­mo Williams. “I’m sor­ry, Dr. Smith, I couldn’t stop him,” she apol­ogized, get­ting out of Re­mo’s way just in time.

Dr. Harold W. Smith saw the rock-​hard face of Re­mo Williams and said, “Quite all right, Mrs. Mikul­ka. No one could.”

“Where is he, Smit­ty?” said Re­mo. “Where’s Chi­un?” An­na Chutesov rose from her cor­ner seat.

“Hel­lo, dar­ling,” she said in a warm voice. She walked up to give him a wel­com­ing hug and found her­self clutch­ing emp­ty air.

“Hi,” Re­mo said with­out glanc­ing in her di­rec­tion. To Smith he re­peat­ed his de­mand. “Chi­un. Take me to him.”

“This way, Re­mo,” said Smith. He led Re­mo to the el­eva­tor.

An­na Chutesov stood rigid, dis­be­lief mark­ing her un­blem­ished com­plex­ion. When she re­al­ized she was be­ing left be­hind, she ran af­ter the pair and squeezed through the clos­ing el­eva­tor doors. Re­mo was in a heat­ed con­ver­sa­tion with Smith.

“He’s re­gained con­scious­ness and is ask­ing for you,” Smith said. “The doc­tors are cer­tain he will be all right.”

“Then what was the prob­lem?” Re­mo want­ed to know.

“Bet­ter let Chi­un ex­plain it to you.”

Re­mo stared at the ceil­ing light, flex­ing his thick wrists im­pa­tient­ly. “He’d bet­ter not be fak­ing this time. He just bet­ter not be,” Re­mo warned. But the sick wor­ry on his face be­lied his harsh tone.

“He is not,” said An­na crisply.

“How would you know?” asked Re­mo dis­tant­ly, as if months had not passed since they had said warm farewells to one an­oth­er.

“I was with him when it hap­pened.”

The el­eva­tor doors slid open, and with­out wait­ing, Re­mo brushed past An­na Chutesov as if he had sud­den­ly for­got­ten they were talk­ing.

He found Chi­un sit­ting up in a hos­pi­tal bed. The vis­age of the Mas­ter of Sinan­ju was waxy and pale, but Re­mo’s at­tuned hear­ing told him Chi­un’s heart­beat and lung ac­tion were nor­mal.

“Lit­tle Fa­ther, what hap­pened to you?” Re­mo asked.

“Death,” said Chi­un hol­low­ly.

“You’re not dead,” said Re­mo.

“I am not dead,” agreed Chi­un. “Not yet. But I do not mat­ter. Sinan­ju is dead. The fu­ture is dead. It is gone, all of it gone.”

Re­mo, hear­ing the trem­bling an­guish in the voice of the Mas­ter of Sinan­ju, knew that his men­tor was not fak­ing. The pain was re­al. Re­mo sat at the edge of the bed, took Chi­un’s long-​nailed hand in his, and pressed it con­cerned­ly.

“Tell me all about it, Lit­tle Fa­ther,” he said.

“There are many deaths, Re­mo. There are the death of body and the death of mind and the death of spir­it.” Re­mo nod­ded. Smith and An­na Chutesov hov­ered in the open door­way, re­luc­tant to in­trude.

Chi­un turned his hazel eyes up­on Re­mo’s deep brown ones.

“But there is a worse death than any of those,” he in­toned. “Woe to the House of Sinan­ju. I shall rue the day I al­lowed that wom­an to lure me in­to that place of doom.”

“Wom­an?” won­dered Re­mo, look­ing at An­na Chutesov.

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