Blue Smoke and Mirrors td-78

by Warren Murphy

  Chiun walked around the area, sniffing.

  "I smell electricity," he said at last. He was puzzled.

  "Sure. All this equipment," Remo pointed out.

  "It is not clinging to these machine parts," Chiun said. "It hangs in the air. It is not right."

  Then Robin returned to escort them to the underground launch facility through a pair of air-lock-like hatches, down a gleaming steel tunnel to the silo itself.

  They gathered at the launch platform on which the big engine nozzle sat like a great silent bell. Gray-overalled AFSC maintenance teams swarmed around them. Remo was surprised at all the corrosion and water seepage. A rat scurried behind a cable. Above them, technicians worked on maintenance platforms, opening access panels and yanking umbilical cables. Far above, where daylight filtered down, the scorched jeep was being lifted free by a chain hoist.

  A technician up on a high platform pulled his head from an access panel and called down:

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  "Everybody can relax. This bird isn't going anywhere. It's been gutted."

  "What do you mean, gutted?" Robin Green called up.

  "Just what I said. Gutted. Somebody pulled out all the firmware. It's just not here."

  "Let me see that," she said, climbing up to the platform.

  The technician handed her a flashlight. She shone it in through the hatch. The light picked out a mass of connections and mechanical devices. Tangles of flat connector cable hung slack, like detached hoses. Tooth-like prongs gleamed hungrily.

  "See? All the BITE firmware has been yanked," the technician was saying.

  "Just what is that? And use small words. I'm no expert."

  "BITE stands for built-in test equipment. They're mostly ROM and PROM chips mounted on cards. They perform constant diagnostic tests of the bird's systems. This explains why she's been ANORS. But it doesn't explain how this stuff disappeared from a sealed missile."

  "I want a list of every man who worked around this bird since it was loaded," Robin Green said angrily.

  "That's four years' worth of duty rosters."

  "Then you'd damn well better get started, hadn't you? And I want it by oh-six-hundred hours."

  Robin joined Remo and Chiun below.

  "You were pretty tough on him," Remo remarked.

  "Don't let these hooters fool you," Robin snapped, cocking a thumb at her chest. "I'm all business."

  An Air Force security policeman in camouflage fatigues and an olive-drab helmet emblazoned with the Strategic Air Command crest approached.

  "Begging your pardon, ma'am," he said. "The launch and status officers are being held for you in the LC, as per your request."

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  "Come on, you two."

  Remo picked up Chiun's trunk. He tucked it under one arm, although it was obviously very heavy.

  "I'm beginning to feel like the fifth wheel on this job," he complained.

  "Just do not drop my trunk," Chiun sniffed, hurrying ahead of him.

  In the launch-control room the launch officers nervously waited under the steely gaze of another SP in fatigues, who stood with his hands clasped behind his back. A technician was opening up one of the dual boards.

  "Look," he said.

  While the technician held a light steady, Robin Green examined the console's innards.

  "What am I looking for?" she asked.

  "The launch-inhibit module."

  "Is that the boxy thing?"

  "No. The launch-inhibit module is normally connected to the boxy thing. But it's not there."

  Robin Green stood up. "Not there? As in missing?"

  The technician nodded grimly. "Someone stole it," he said.

  "Get me the duty roster of everyone who performed maintenance on this console."

  "Not necessary. I was the last one to open her up."

  "Do you remember the launch-inhibit module being there?"

  "It was there two days ago. And I can guarantee you that no one's opened this console until a few minutes ago."

  "How can you be certain?"

  "Because it was the act of disconnecting the module that triggered the launch sequence."

  "That means-"

  "It was lifted in the last hour. Don't ask me how. Gremlins. Martians. Blue smoke and mirrors. Take your pick."

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  Chiun cocked an ear in the man's direction and his face grew more intent. He whispered something to Remo, who in response shook his head and hissed, "Not now."

  "Where are the launch officers?" Robin shouted, turning around. "Step forward!"

  Captains Auton and McCrone stepped forward sheepishly.

  Robin Green shoved her flashlight into their faces. They fliched from its hard glare.

  "Don't look away when I'm addressing you. Stand easy. I'm Green. OSI. Let's make this easier all the way around. You were both on duty. You sat twelve feet apart in full view of each other. Neither one of you could have lifted the module without collusion on the part of the other. Therefore, you're both guilty of theft and treason. Who wants to talk first?"

  Captain Auton spoke up. "Ma'am, I had nothing to do with this. And I can vouch for Captain McCrone."

  Robin frowned. "You!" she barked, switching the beam into Captain McCrone's dark eyes.

  "Ma'am, I was sitting at my board, as was Captain Auton. The module may be missing from his console, but I can assure you that Captain Auton was at his post at all times."

  "I see," Robin said tightly. "A pair of collaborators."

  "Hold," Chiun said. "Allow me to speak with them."

  "What good will that do?" Robin demanded hotly.

  "I believe they speak the truth. I wish to verify this."

  "And how do you propose to accomplish that?" Robin said, eyeing Chiun's scrawny arms as he shook them free of his sleeves.

  "A simple interrogation," Chiun said blandly.

  "That's up to OSI. This isn't your department." Robin turned to the stony-faced SP. "Guard, these two are not to interfere with my interrogation. Got that?"

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  The SP took a tentative step forward.

  Chiun turned to Remo. "Remo."

  "Gotcha, Little Father," Remo said, flashing an A-okay sign.

  Remo stepped back and took the surprised guard by one wrist. He pivoted in place, sending the man slip-sliding out of the control room. Remo shut the door after him. The guard could be heard beating on the thick metal with his truncheon and blowing his whistle furiously.

  "Go ahead, Little Father," Remo said calmly.

  The Master of Sinanju stepped up to the trembling officers.

  "Do not be afraid," he murmured. "I wish merely to speak with you. Will you answer one, possibly two, simple questions from a harmless old man?"

  The pair hesitated, looking to Robin Green.

  Robin shrugged. "Go ahead."

  "Here," Chiun said, extending clawlike fingers. "Take my infirm old hand, if it will reassure you."

  When the pair took Chiun's hand in theirs, they suddenly fell to their knees, faces twisting, their bodies writhing in agony.

  "Speak now!" Chiun urged them. "Only the truth will stop the pain."

  "I don't know anything! Really!" Auton howled.

  McCrone shrilled that she knew nothing either.

  Auton pointed out that they were locked in this control room. If either of them had lifted the module, it would still be here.

  Chiun released their hands. He faced Robin Green and tucked his hands together solemnly.

  "They speak the truth," he announced.

  "Nonsense," she retorted.

  "Check out their story, then," Remo suggested. "Have the place searched."

  "I'll need the guard."

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  Remo released the door and the guard crashed in, his sidearm out and wavering between Remo and Chiun.

  "Oh, put that away," Robin said in an annoyed tone.

  When the SP hesitated, Remo relieved him of his helmet. He clamped it over th
e automatic and manipulated the helmet with swift finger strokes. The helmet rapidly compressed into a mashed ball that enveloped the guard's hand and weapon. The SP looked at it stupidly.

  "How did you do that?" Robin Green wanted to know.

  "Do what?" Remo asked casually.

  "Oh, never mind," Robin said exasperatedly. She ordered the SP to go get his hand attended to.

  The SP retreated from the room. Other SP's came, summoned by the first one's whistle. Robin ordered them to take apart every square inch of the room until they found the missing module.

  After a three-hour search, no module turned up.

  "I give up," Robin Green said morosely.

  "Good," Chiun said. "Now it is my turn. Remo, the trunk."

  "Over there, Little Father."

  Chiun bent over his trunk and unlocked it with a brass key. He flung the lid back and came away with his hands full of what seemed to Remo like ceremonial objects.

  As they watched in openmouthed amazement, the Master of Sinanju began to set crude candles at every corner of the control room. He lit them. Then he took three jars of colored fluids to the center of the room.

  He poured a pinkish fluid in a dish in the middle of the floor and ignited it with one of the candles. Then he poured a blue fluid in a circle around the burning dish.

  Robin Green held her nose against the stench that resulted. Remo simply keyed his breathing down so

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  that his nostrils filtered out the most disagreeable aspects of the smell.

  "What on earth is he doing?" Robin asked Remo.

  "Silence," Chiun commanded.

  Then the Masters of Sinanju took up two bamboo sticks that were decorated with varicolored feathers and topped with silver bells. He began to stalk around the burning bowl and his voice rose from its usual squeaky pitch to a quavering howl that reminded Remo of a lovesick alley cat.

  It reminded Robin Green of something entirely different.

  "What is he doing?" she asked tartly. "A rain dance?"

  Remo, who knew Korean, listened for a moment and offered what he called a loose translation.

  "It sounds like he's saying something to the effect of 'Begone, spirits of the outer void. Return from whence you came. Leave this ridiculous missile and the unsavory steaks and garments to the living. There is nothing here for you.' Unquote."

  "An exorcism!" Robin shrieked. "He's performing an exorcism on a nuclear facility! Oh, I'm not seeing this! I'm not hearing this."

  "Hey," Remo said. "I said it was a loose translation. I might have gotten a few of the words wrong."

  "Well, I'm putting a stop to this right now."

  Robin Green started forward. Remo caught her by the waist.

  "Uh-uh," he said. "Seriously."

  "Let me go, you big goof. I have authority here."

  "You may have authority, but not over him. Look."

  The Master of Sinanju was now in a frenzy of motion. He ran from wall to wall, literally bouncing off them. Whenever he bounced, he struck the wall with one of the bamboo rods. He leapt into the air, twirling like a dervish. The silver bells jingled like sleigh bells. Chiun seemed to be using the rods to describe invisible circles in the air.

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  "There was a time when he was addicted to soap operas," Remo explained. "Nobody, but nobody, ever interfered with his daily viewing. A couple of times people did. I always had to dispose of the bodies."

  "Bodies! Him?"

  "Parts of bodies, actually. They looked like they had walked into a baling machine or something."

  "Him?" Robin repeated incredulously.

  "Trust me."

  "That's ridiculous! He can't weigh more then ninety pounds."

  "A black widow spider weighs even less."

  "Well, I don't care. This is chickenshit. And it's got to stop."

  At the sound of Robin's shouted words, Chiun suddenly stopped in his tracks.

  "Thank you for reminding me," he said, going to the trunk. He returned with two jars of a dark ashy substance. He handed one to Robin.

  "Since you are obviously familiar with this ritual, you may help," he said. "Dip your finger into the jar and anoint first your forehead, then every thing else in this room that is green. For they like green and use it to empower themselves."

  "Green?" Robin croaked.

  "Yes. Be certain to do your forehead first. It will protect you. Even if you are not truly green, but only named so."

  "What is this" stuff?" Robin asked, bringing a smudge of it to her nostrils.

  "It is the chicken stuff of which you spoke, of course," said Chiun, who then marched off and began smearing ash over every green status light and indicator on the twin consoles.

  Robin Green's eyes widened in horror. "Chicken . . . ? He can't mean that this . . . This isn't... I mean ..."

  "Search me," Remo said. "Guano isn't my area of

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  expertise. But maybe you'd better do as he says. You're starting to look a little green around the gills."

  Robin didn't reply. Her expression was dazed.

  At length Chiun finished his ministrations to the launch-control room.

  "All done, Chiun?"

  "No. I must do the missile too. I will do all the missiles so that the wicked ghost causes no accidental launchings."

  "There are ten missiles attached to this LCF alone," Robin Green pointed out. "And fifteen LCF's in the grid. That's one hundred and fifty missile silos."

  "I will start with this one. If necessary, I will do others."

  "Better humor him," Remo said quickly. "The sooner we're done, the sooner we can get on with the real investigation."

  "This is madness. But all right. Just let go of me."

  "Huh?"

  "You've still got your arms wrapped around my waist, buster. Or haven't you noticed?"

  "Oh! Sorry," Remo said, his face reddening. "I just didn't want you to get hurt." He released her.

  An hour later, the Master of Sinanju stepped back from the silo hatch to Fox-4. He surveyed the hatch from every angle. The entire surface was covered with arcane Korean symbols, daubed on in dried chicken guano. He had placed one of the feathered rods to the north of the silo and the other to the south. They tinkled in the breeze like wind chimes.

  "Finally," he intoned, addressing a ring of security police, whom he had set to beating on their helmets because it frightened off certain kinds of spirits, "I declare this absurd contraption proof against spirits, demons, and other inhabitants of the outer void. You may all go about your business normally."

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  "I don't believe this," Robin Green groaned. "I'm going to be drummed out of OSI for this."

  "Hey, who you gonna call?" Remo joked. When Robin Green gave him the benefit of the stoniest expression Remo had seen since visiting Mount Rush-more, Remo added, "But seriously, now that Chiun is satisfied, we can really go after this guy."

  "How?"

  "We know he likes steaks. Let's put a hook in one. Maybe he'll take the bait again."

  "I already tried that. You know what happened."

  "Did you ever wait for him inside the freezer?"

  "No. I didn't dare. No one on the LCF knew I was OSI. If I got locked in, I could have frozen to death before anyone realized I was missing."

  "I guarantee that I won't let that happen," Remo said, smiling broadly.

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  OSI Special Agent Robin Green shivered behind a hanging side of beef.

  She clutched the white blanket around her more tightly. The blanket was white to help her blend in with the color of the butcher paper in which the assortment of pork chops, ribs, and other meats that occupied the upper shelves at the rear of the freezer were wrapped. She perched on the lowest shelf.

  "I swear," she muttered, "after tonight, I'm never going to eat meat again."

  "Did you say something?" Remo asked, sticking his head into the freezer. The overhead light came on automatically.

  "Shut that do
or!" she scolded. "I was only talking to myself."

  "Oops! Sorry," Remo said, shutting the door. The freezer went dark again.

  How the hell did he hear me through that door? Robin thought. I spoke under my breath.

  But that wasn't the most amazing thing she had seen Remo, or even Chiun, for that matter, do in the few hours she had known them.

  If they were GAO, then Robin Green was PTA. But they had been cleared by the highest authorities. Robin had attempted to backtrack their clearance. The base commander at Grand Forks had informed her that it

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  came from the Pentagon. When she attempted to trace the specific office or service branch, she was informed that their clearance didn't originate in the Pentagon. The Pentagon was only a convenient conduit.

  The last Robin Green had heard, the Pentagon was not an arm of the General Accounting Office. Hell, they were mortal enemies in the yearly battle of the budgets.

  It didn't figure. But there they were, T-shirts, feathered wands, and everything.

  As Robin's eyes readjusted to the darkness, she shifted again. Her head struck the shelf directly above, knocking over a rack of ribs. She looked to see if the displaced ribs exposed her to view. They didn't. She pulled the blanket about her more tightly.

  When she looked up, the air was filled with a soft white glow, and even under her blanket she felt the hair on her arms rise like a million saluting insect antennae.

  It was there. Right in the freezer. It glowed. Its back was to her. From head to toe it was a blurry white, like a fuzzy blanket with a light under it. Except that all over its body, golden veins showed. They swam with light. It was as if this thing had veins on the outside of its skin through which light instead of blood coursed. And on its back was slung a napsacklike thing, also white. It was open at the top, with two cables coming out of it like tentacles. They looped up to connectors in its shoulders.

  It was manlike, Robin saw. It had two humanoid legs and two arms-although she couldn't quite see the arms clearly. It was bent over the steak rack. The back of its head was as smooth and white as an egg. Hairless, it lacked those golden veins.

  Robin Green knew the white thing had not entered by the freezer door. It could not have gotten past Remo and Chiun. And even if it had, the light would have gone on automatically. And it had not.