Feast or Famine td-107
Page 23
"That is the nuttiest thing I ever heard," Remo exploded, looking at a wall clock. Jean was due at any moment.
"Nevertheless, it is true. Pym set out on a campaign to wage war on those who had waged war on the insect world, starting with Doyal T. Rand. His nanomites, as he called them, were created to demonstrate his power. But he was unable to make his demands public because his chosen vehicle refused to cooperate."
"Who was that?" asked Remo, not really caring and instead wondering what was keeping his date.
"The publisher of the Sacramento Bee."
"Well, that makes sense in a moronic kind of way," said Remo.
"Instead, he chose Tammy Terrill."
"Yeah. And we know what happened there."
"Your timing was fortunate. She has been so professionally embarrassed she is unlikely to resurface again. More importantly, the Bee-Master menace is over. There has been not a single attack since you vanquished Pym. All his equipment and insects we have found have been destroyed. I have so informed the President."
"Well, all's well that ends," grunted Remo, looking out the window for the zillionth time.
He saw a long white stretch limousine pull up. "And here's my date. Catch you later, Smitty."
Hanging up, Remo started down the stairs as the doorbell chimed. He heard the door open and Jean's smoky voice clash briefly with Grandmother Mulberry's witch's croak.
A moment later, the old bat herself came rushing up, her yellowed prune face crimson as an apple.
"How's it going, Granny?" he asked jauntily.
She glared at him and said, "Hope you and foul-mouth white girl marry soon. You deserve each other. Good riddance."
"Have a nice evening yourself," returned Remo.
Jean was waiting at the door, dressed in a shimmering blue nightgown.
She took one look at Remo's casual attire and asked, "You're not going out looking like that, are you?"
Remo stopped in his tracks. "Oops."
Jean's frown turned into a grin as she reached behind her and hoisted into view a neatly pressed suit on a hanger.
"I cashed in my lottery ticket. So tonight we ride in style and you dress so I'm not embarrassed to be seen in public with you. Not that I would be anyway."
Remo took the suit. "What'd you tell Grandma Mulberry?" he asked. "She looked like someone spanked her good."
"She tried to give me a hard time, so I used the line you taught me to."
"Dwe juhla?"
"Yep."
"That got her, huh?"
Jean smiled mischievously.
"Well, I added 'you old bone bag,' too."
Remo grinned. "Okay, I just gotta let Chiun know not to wait up."
But they couldn't find Chiun anywhere. He wasn't in the bell-tower meditation room. Nor in the kitchen. The fish cellar was empty, too.
Finally, Remo knocked on the door of Chiun's private room. It fell open.
Inside, there was no sign of the Master of Sinanju.
But on a low taboret, Remo found a book. Recognizing the cover, he picked it up.
The title was The Joy of Astral Sex.
"Hey, this is the same book I caught Grandma Mulberry with!" Remo blurted.
"So? They're reading the same book. What's wrong with sharing?"
"Except I jammed her copy down the garbage disposal."
Remo's face turned shock white. "You don't suppose... Not Chiun. Not with her..."
"Hey," said Jean, beckoning Remo to follow her out the door, "he's old. He's not dead. Neither are you. And the night is young. Come on. You can change clothes in the car. I'll try not to peek."
Shrugging, Remo dropped the book and followed her out, muttering, "Now I'll never get rid of that old fishwife ...."
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