"Destroyer 035 - Last Call.pdb" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Remo)

The store owner nodded.
"Let the earpiece cool for a few minutes," Remo said. He walked to where the old Oriental continued to flick through magazines with his fingernails.
"I have looked through all these magazines," Chiun said, glancing up at Remo. The Oriental was aged, with white wisps of hair flitting out from his dried yellow skin. He was barely five feet tall and probably had never seen the fat side of one hundred pounds. "There is not one story in any of them that was written by a Korean. It is no wonder that I cannot sell my books and stories."
"You can't sell your books and stories because you don't write your books and stories," Remo said. "You sit there staring at a piece of paper for hours and then you complain that I'm stopping you from writing because I'm breathing too heavy."
"You are," said Chiun.
"When I'm out in a boat in the middle of the sound?" asked Remo.
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"I can hear your asthmatic snorting halfway across the country," Chiun said. "Come. It is almost time."
"You going back there again today?" "I will go there every day for as long as it takes," Chiun said. "I can get nowhere with all your publishers prejudiced against Koreans, but that will not stop me from writing a movie. I have heard about your Hollywood blacklist. Well, if they have a blacklist to make sure that blacks get work, they can start a yellow list and I can get work."
"That's not what they mean by blacklist," Remo said, but Chiun was already out the door heading toward their car, which was parked illegally along the curbside of the busy Boston Post Road.
Remo shrugged, took his morning quota of papers, and tossed a five-dollar bill on the counter. Without waiting for change, he joined Chiun in the car.
"This is a natural for Paul Newman and Robert Redford," Chiun said. "It is just what they need to make them stars."
"I know I'm never going to read it or see it, so I suppose you better tell me about it. Otherwise, I'll never have any peace," Remo said.
"Fine. There is the world's foremost assassin, the head of an ancient house of assassins."
"You," Remo said. "Chiun, reigning Master of the House of Sinanju."
"Shush. Anyway, this poor man finds himself, against his will, working in the United States because he needs gold to feed the poor and the suf-
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fering of his small Korean village. But do they let him practice his noble art in the United States? No. They make him become a trainer, to try to teach the secrets of Sinanju to a fat, slothful meat-eater."
"Me," Remo said. "Remo Williams." "They found this poor meat-eater working as a policeman and they fixed it up so that he went to an electrical chair but it didn't work because nothing in America works except me. So instead of being killed, he was saved so he could go to work as an assassin for a secret organization which is supposed to fight crime in America. This organization is called CURE and is headed by a total imbecile."
"Smitty," Remo said. "Dr. Harold W. Smith." "And the story tells of the many misadventures of this meat-eater and the many tragedies that befall him as he bumbles and stumbles his way through life and how the Master, unappreciated and unloved, always manages to save him at great risk to his own valued person, until one day the Master's contributions are finally recognized by a grateful nation, because even stupid countries can be grateful, and America showers him with gold and diamonds and he returns home to his native village to live out his few remaining days in peace and dignity, loved by all, because he is so gentle."
"That takes care of you," Remo said. "What happens to me? The meat-eater?"
"Actually, I have not worked out all the minor details of the movie yet," Chiun said.
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"And for this you want Paul Newman and Robert Bedford?"
"Absolutely," Chiun said. "This is socko for Newman and Bedford."
"Who plays who ?" asked Remo.
"Newman will play the Master," Chiun said. "We can do something about those funny pale eyes of his to make them look right."
"I see. And Redford plays me."
Chiun turned in his seat and looked at Remo as if his disciple had begun speaking in tongues.
"Redford will play the head of this super-secret organization who you think resembles Smith," Chiun said.
"Then who plays me? Remo asked.
"You know, Remo, when they make a movie, they hire a woman and they call her the casting director, and she is in charge of finding actors to play all the small, unimportant parts."
"A bit part ? That's me ?"
"Exactly," Chiun said.
"You got Newman and Redford starring as you and Smith and I'm a bit part?"
"That is correct."
"I hope you meet Newman and Redford," Remo said. "I just hope you do."
"I will. That is why I go to this restaurant, because I hear they eat lunch there when they are in town," Chiun said.
"I hope you meet them. I really do."
"Thank you, Remo," Chiun said.
"I really hope you meet them," Remo said.
Chiun looked at him with curiosity. "Your feelings are hurt, aren't they?"
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"Why shouldn't they be? You got two stars playing you and Smith. And me, I'm a bit part."
"We'll get somebody good. Somebody who looks like you."
"Yeah? Who?"
"Sidney Greenstreet. I saw him in a movie on television and he was very good."
"He's dead. And besides, he weighed three hundred pounds."
"Peter Ustinov," Chuin said.
"He doesn't talk like me. His accent's wrong."