Waste Not, Want Not td-130

by Warren Murphy

  When the door burst open, Petrovina looked up with fear. Her face quickly collapsed into relief. Chiun cut the ropes at her ankles and wrists with his long fingernails while Remo removed her gag. "Jack James!" she exhaled the instant the gag was loose. "He is alive!"

  "Not for much longer," Remo replied coldly. "You know where he is? This place is deserted."

  "He has gone to the Vaporizer site," Petrovina said, scrambling to her feet. "He was keeping me alive for his pleasure later on. I heard his plans. He will claim to give them a demonstration, but he intends to murder them all."

  "Murder who?" Remo asked.

  "Every leader in the world who is in Mayana," she answered. "World will be thrown into chaos. Governments will collapse. Panic could destabilize entire continents." There was a look of terrified urgency on her face.

  "Every leader in the world, you say?" Remo asked, sitting down on the closed toilet lid.

  "Yes," Petrovina replied sharply. "Hurry." She was edging anxiously for the door.

  "Don't rush me," said Remo. "I'm thinking."

  Chapter 29

  From the window of the Vaporizer control shed, Jack James watched the frightened little men who thought they ruled the world. As the caps popped off the fully functioning upper level of the device and the lights of doom glowed brighter, the men and women tore at the walls. They screamed and climbed over one another in blind panic.

  The walls were too smooth. There were no handholds. Thanks to distance and the weird soundproofing quality of the frictionless walls, their yelling wouldn't be heard by their staffs and the press gathered out in the parking lot.

  Their cell phones had been confiscated. They'd been told that the devices could interfere with the operation of the Vaporizer. Trusting, wicked fools.

  As the little men ran around in fear, James smiled. The sheep were scattering.

  The history of this day would be written in blood on scrolls for wicked mankind. They would call it Judgment Day. The day that he, Jack James-Almighty Jack James-punished the evildoers for their sins and washed clean the face of the earth. It was the Flood, the rapture, the expulsion from Paradise.

  All the sins of the world were concentrated in the hands of these, the stewards of this modern Sodom. With a calm that chilled the cold air-conditioned room, Jack James glanced down at the control monitor. The power levels were nearly at maximum. Only a few minutes more.

  He was glad he had told them to simplify the Vaporizer commands. At the moment he was the only one there who could operate the device.

  In the corner of the room lay Mike Sears.

  When he realized what the executive president of Mayana had in store for the crew of the Novgorod, the Milquetoast American scientist had grown a backbone. It hadn't been enough to withstand the mighty rod of persuasion.

  James's precious cane hung on the edge of a table. He had kept it throughout his years in exile. Through a life of adversity and persecution.

  Blood dribbled down from the scientist's forehead. Sears was unconscious. For his disloyalty, James would finish him off when this was over. Just a few minutes more.

  James sat down in Sears's well-worn chair to await the end. As he watched, the last of the little lights continued to come to life. Just as the very first light had been brought into existence on that first long-ago day, the day Almighty Jack James created the heavens and the earth.

  THE ROAD UP to the Vaporizer was jammed with abandoned cars. Buses were being used to cart reporters and lesser dignitaries to the site. When Remo and Chiun arrived with Petrovina, they found that only VIP limos were being allowed past the yellow sawhorses.

  "They took my purse with my diplomatic identification back at presidential palace," Petrovina said, frustrated. "Have you ID?"

  Remo was hardly listening as he glanced around. "My dog ate it," he said.

  "There is no way we will get in," Petrovina said.

  "I hope you are listening to this, Remo," Chiun said. "You who would invite all manner of Russian trailer trucks to drive into your bed should realize that if you make a baby with this one, it will inherit not only its mother's mustache and swollen ankles, it will get that optimism for which all Russians are famous."

  Remo was looking down the road. "Not all Russians are bad, Little Father," he said absently. "Anna was okay."

  Face tight, Petrovina glanced sharply at Remo. "That's right," Chiun said. "Drive the knife deeper into your poor old father's dying heart."

  A limousine was driving up from New Briton. It had diplomatic plates. One of the attendees of the Globe Summit was arriving late for the Vaporizer test.

  When the car drew past them, Remo reached over and popped open a rear door while Chiun opened the driver's door.

  Remo found himself looking into the familiar bushy-bearded face of the president of Communist Cuba.

  Remo had met the man years before. There was a flash of recognition. When he opened his mouth to scream, his cigar flopped out, scattering burning ash on his drab fatigues.

  "Glad we don't need a reintroduction," Remo said. "C'mon, Fuzzy, move it o muerte."

  Unseen by the roadblocks up ahead, Remo dragged the Cuban leader out of the car, stuffing him in the trunk.

  By the time he got in the back seat, Chiun had already persuaded the driver to continue without question. The Cuban behind the wheel was driving with one hand. The other arm hung limp at his side. He gritted his teeth against the pain.

  They kept the tinted windows rolled up tight. Remo, Chiun and Petrovina were waved through the roadblocks and onto the main grounds. At the site they abandoned the limo, racing for the fenced-in Vaporizer.

  The two Masters of Sinanju could already feel the thrum of power from the machine. It was the same buildup they'd felt during the test two days previous. "It's close to going off," Remo warned.

  Luckily the rest of the dignitaries and reporters had been herded into the visitors' center. There were only a few guards and security personnel near the main gate. When they saw the small trio racing toward them, the men drew guns.

  There was no time to argue. Remo and Chiun swept into their midst, fingers and palms putting to sleep all who came at them. As the men toppled left and right, Remo yelled over his shoulder at Petrovina.

  "Get to the control booth! Try to shut it down!" She nodded, scooping up the pistol of a fallen Secret Service agent. She ran through the open gate and up the narrow, fenced-in corridor that separated the main driveway from the exterior Vaporizer wall.

  Remo and Chiun quickly removed the remaining guards. The last man had not yet hit the ground when they were flying through the fence to the Vaporizer wall. Near the bin with the protective boots waited Jack James's disciples.

  Only eight of the twelve remained. They had been ordered to hold their ground and not let anyone inside.

  "The Lord shall punish the wicked!" one man shouted as the group assembled around Remo and Chiun, weapons drawn.

  "Show of hands for whoever has heard enough of that crapola," Remo said. One hand rose. It, as well as the arm that went with it, was no longer attached to its owner.

  Remo tossed the arm to the ground, taking out the one-armed gunman with a sweeping toe. He and Chiun flew through the rest. When the last disciple had fallen, the two Masters of Sinanju raced to the sealed Vaporizer door.

  They could feel the hum coming through the black wall.

  "Stay here, Little Father," Remo said.

  The old man shook his head. "We go together."

  "Can't risk it. Not both of us in there."

  "I expect your superior knowledge of garbage to save me," the wizened Korean sniffed, reaching for the door.

  "This isn't a debate," Remo snapped. "I'm Reigning Master. It's my decision. I need you out here."

  Chiun saw the look of determination on his pupil's face. Jaw tightening, the Reigning Master of Sinanju Emeritus nodded sharp agreement. "Have a care," he warned.

  Despite his concern, Chiun felt his heart swell. It was a mom
ent of great import. Significant not just in Sinanju, but throughout the history of mankind. Fathers and sons. The passing of authority from one generation to the next.

  Remo didn't seem to realize it. Like all the young, he was too concerned with the present.

  Remo's face was grim. Whirling, the latest Reigning Master of Sinanju reached for the door.

  THE PRESIDENT of the United States never dreamed he would meet his end like this.

  Mayanan Executive President Blythe Curry-Hume had apparently gone insane. The President could see the crazed man's shadowy face peering down from the control booth.

  There was nowhere to go. No way to call for help. The President and the other world leaders were effectively standing inside the Vaporizer. The President had seen the device being demonstrated on television. He understood what was about to happen to all of them.

  Many of the others couldn't seem to accept the inevitable. Across the deck they kicked and screamed, pummeling one another with fists as they pounded on the door.

  As the lights glowed brighter all around, the President stood his ground, determined to meet his end as a man.

  In his mind he recited the Lord's Prayer. He didn't know he was speaking the words aloud until he heard the prime minister of Great Britain saying them alongside him.

  The two men glanced at each other. The President gave a smile and a sharp nod. As he did so, he heard fresh shouts from over near the sliding door.

  The other world leaders were backing fearfully away from the door, babbling in dozens of languages. As the President watched, hope tripping deep inside his chest, the door began to bow inward. The regimented lines of glowing lights stretched out across the bubbling surface.

  With a shriek the door burst off its sliding track. Men scattered. Trailing wires, the door slid across the deck, bouncing off the chain-link fence and skittering away.

  A man appeared behind it. With dark, deep-set eyes, he viewed the stumbling, panicked world leadership.

  "There's six billion people out here who'll probably want to lynch me for this," Remo Williams grumbled.

  And with an unhappy scowl, Remo grabbed the collars of two nearby diplomats.

  With a sharp tug, the chief of government of the Principality of Liechtenstein and the president of South Africa were dropped to their backsides. The deck was black ice. The two men zipped across the frictionless surface and disappeared through the opening.

  And like a shot, Remo launched himself out on the deck.

  He had not donned a pair of frictionless boots. Forward momentum carried him on sliding soles. He snagged the prime minister of Niger and the president of Honduras. Both men were launched back across the deck.

  Outside the open doorway, Chiun grabbed these two as he had the first. The old Korean stopped them, stacked them to one side and spun back just in time to accept the next pair.

  Inside the Vaporizer, Remo was picking up speed. They flew in his wake-blurs of presidents, prime ministers, princes and kings. He banked off each set, changing direction in a slivered second, flying off to the next.

  By the time he reached the President of the United States, prime minister of England and president of Russia, Remo was a barely visible blur.

  Each man felt a sharp tug. In the next instant he was flying through the door of the Vaporizer and into the flashing hands of the former Reigning Master of Sinanju.

  And in a flash Remo was off to the next set of world leaders, ever mindful of the awesome manmade power that was swelling up all around him.

  AT FIRST JACK JAMES didn't see the commotion down on the upper level of the Vaporizer. He had been preoccupied watching the monitor. The device was nearly powered up.

  When he glanced down, he blinked in shock. There were fewer men than had been there just a moment before.

  Impossible. There was no way out. He had sealed the door himself. They couldn't have broken out. And yet there were definitely fewer world leaders on the deck.

  As he watched in amazement, more vanished. It couldn't be. The device wasn't yet ready. Blurs across the deck. On the security camera he caught sight of men appearing through the door. The open door.

  In that moment the impossible registered in his dull mind. Something was throwing the men to safety.

  There was still a way. He had hoped to savor his victory, hoped to live to tell the tale. But the fools didn't know. Jack James would go, but he would take them all with him. And Jack James was eternal. Jack James was light. Yes, he would die this day but, after, he would live forever in glory while all the other, lesser beings were thrown into the dark, there to wail and gnash their teeth.

  A light flashed green. The Vaporizer was at full power. James reached for the keyboard, tapping a single key. The instant he did so, a voice shouted at his back.

  "Step away!"

  James wheeled.

  Petrovina Bulganin stood in the control booth, her pistol trained on the infamous Jamestown cult leader. James smiled a twisted grin of triumph.

  "Too late!" he cried, laughing maniacally. "You can shoot me if you want, but you are all dead! They told me the machine needs to remain perfectly balanced. With the door missing, it's not. When it goes off, the Vaporizer will consume itself, this hill, these grounds and every last one of us. I've won."

  For an instant Petrovina Bulganin weighed her options.

  Abruptly she turned the barrel of her gun from James, aiming it at the upright computer nearest the Mayanan president. Petrovina unloaded her clip into the hard drive.

  Sparks exploded in the small room. There was a spluttering hiccup in the swelling hum of power. "No!" James flew to the window. He didn't care that the Russian woman whom he'd carelessly left alive back at his presidential palace turned and ran from the control room. Didn't care about anything but his failed act of vengeance.

  He had been too slow. As he watched, the lights in the upper level dimmed. The newer section would shut down first. The lower level still glowed brilliant white.

  Not that it mattered. The deck was clear.

  He saw something rocketing toward the pit. It had the blurry shape of a man.

  For an instant as it struck the fence that surrounded the lower level, James saw a face frozen in time. The dark eyes of the Angel of Death himself stared deep into the cold black soul of Jack James.

  The fence bowed out over the pit.

  The lights still glowed bright. There was a flash. And the man with the face of doom promptly disappeared. Vaporized into oblivion.

  Chapter 30

  The force needed to hurl the final world leader out to safety created an opposite reaction that had to be channeled somewhere. Remo used it to propel himself back toward the fence that surrounded the deep Vaporizer pit.

  Up and out into empty air.

  The soles of his loafers hit the chain link, bowing it out over the pit. Brilliant white lights glowed beneath him. The charge of ionized particles filled the air. But the true forces of nature could not be known to mere machines.

  Remo was a full Master of Sinanju, his body trained to the perfection that lived unrealized in all men.

  Out over empty air, the vast blackness of certain death stretched out beneath him, Remo Williams, Reigning Master of the House of Sinanju, felt the world flood his senses. And to every last atom, all was right and perfect.

  The fence was a bow that launched him like an arrow back across the deck.

  At a speed even his teacher could not follow, Remo was out through the doors. The shaken world leaders who stood with the old Korean felt little more than a hiss of violent wind as he zoomed through their midst.

  Down the path he flew, banking up along the inside of the chain-link fence. He was up the stairs and in the control room even as Jack James was still registering his disappearance from below.

  When the cult leader saw Remo appear before him the instant after he had seen Remo disappear from down below, his eyes grew wide. He fell back, shocked.

  "You can't be alive," James gaspe
d.

  "Said one dead man to another," Remo replied. "In your case what say we make it official?"

  And he lifted the cult leader off the floor.

  Jack James saw the control-room window come toward him very fast. The glass shattered and he was out in empty air. And like a god, Jack James soared on angel's wings.

  He flew until he fell.

  All at once the lights of the Vaporizer, which had been distant, grew very large all around him.

  And Jack James looked into one of the lights, and that light became very bright, and Jack James was flying toward it. And then he was one with the light. A god propelled forward on a stream of pure energy in a tunnel that was warm with the heat of his creation. For an instant Jack James was the god he always knew he was.

  Then the mouth yawned open at the far end of the magnificent, light-filled tunnel.

  It was not heaven waiting on the far end. For Jack James it was an altogether other place.

  And in one terrible instant, a lifetime of all the pain and anguish he had ever inflicted on others was heaped upon him. And in the first moment of his ultimate fall from grace, the wonderful path of light to the kingdom that was never his collapsed behind him, sealing the distinctly ungodly Jack James in misery and torment for all eternity.

  FROM THE CONTROL BOOTH, Remo watched the lights of the Vaporizer splutter and die. The pit went dark. The power hummed silent beneath his feet.

  Jack James was gone. The Jamestown cult leader had disappeared in the instant just before the lights went dark.

  Alone, Remo nodded satisfaction. "Garbage in, garbage out." Turning, he headed back out the door.

  Chapter 31

  It was all over.

  He could tell from the shouts and from the activity out near the Vaporizer. He could see it all through the tiny window in his little cinder-block shed. Security personnel from dozens of countries were swarming in. Tires squealed. Dignitaries were being hustled out to waiting cars.

  Yes, it was over. At least for now.

  He would find another. There was no doubt that he could. He had skills that the shadow world would pay dearly for. Jack James had been a client. Not a partner, not a visionary, not anything. There were plenty of other clients out there just like James.