"Destroyer 078 - Blue Smoke and Mirrors.pdb" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Remo)

"Steaks. Blue jeans. Nonmilitary items such as those. The jeans disappeared from a secure building. The
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steaks from a locked and watched freezer in that same building. It is impossible."
"We did not do it," Chiun said quickly.
"Master of Sinanju?" Smith said.
"When people whisper of the impossible, the name Sinanju always comes to mind first."
"I think I detect a commercial coming on," Remo groaned.
"Hush," Chiun admonished. He addressed Smith in deferential tones. "What you describe is not impossible. I could accomplish such things. Remo, too, on one of his more alert days."
"Thanks a lot," Remo said, folding his bare arms.
"But we did not. I assure you."
Smith nodded. "There's more. We have a witness to one of the thefts. An Air Force OSI agent named Robin Green. She saw the thief's feet-or what we presume are his boots. He wore what she describes as shining white boots."
"What else?"
"I am afraid that's all we have."
"Not very observant, is she?" Remo remarked.
"She was hiding under a bed at the time. When she got out, there was no one there. But in her official report she insists that she saw something disappear through a solid wall."
Remo's bored expression grew interested. "Is that so?"
"She . . . um . . . insisted it was a car battery."
"Stuff disappearing from locked rooms. Things flying through walls. It doesn't sound logical," Remo said.
"Yet these thefts have continued with impunity," Smith went on. "It's as if the thief has no fear of capture. He's never been clearly observed. He might as well be a ghost."
Remo grinned. "Well, we know that's out. We don't believe in ghosts, do we, Little Father?"
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When the Master of Sinanju didn't reply, Remo turned and saw Chiun's grave face.
"Do we?" Remo repeated.
"We do," Chiun said flatly. His face was tight.
"Well, I don't," Remo snapped. "There are no such things as ghosts."
"How can you say that?" Chiun asked tartly. "You who have beheld the Great Wang with your own eyes."
"Great Wang?" Smith said blankly.
"It's not like it sounds," Remo said quickly. "Wang was the greatest Master in Sinanju history. He died a long time ago. But I met him once."
"Yes," Chiun said imperiously. "All Masters since Wang are not considered to have achieved full Master-hood until the spirit of Wang appears before them."
"Really, Remo?" Smith said, his voice level with interest. "You saw a ghost?"
"I never thought of him as a ghost," Remo replied uneasily. "It happened back during that business with the Russian superhypnotist, Rabinowitz. Remember? He had you going too."
Smith swallowed. "Yes," he said, wincing. The Russian could make himself appear to be a trusted person. To Smith, he had appeared in the form of his first-grade teacher, and Smith had accepted this even though Miss Ashford had been dead for years. It had been very embarassing.
"Wang appeared before me," Remo was saying. "I talked to him. We had a conversation. But he wasn't a ghost. He wasn't white, didn't wear a sheet or rattle chains. He was just a fat little guy with a happy face. It was kinda like having my long-lost Korean uncle drop by for a visit. He had a great sense of humor, as I recall."
"Really?"
"Yes, really," Remo barked. "Don't look at me like that, Smitty. I can't explain it, but it happened."
"I can," Chiun said sternly. "The spirits of past
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Masters of Sinanju live on after their bodies. Sometimes they return to earth to communicate. Wang has been very conscientious about that. I saw him when I reached my peak. Remo has seen him. And Remo's pupil, if he ever fulfills his duty and sires a proper son, will see Wang. It is the way of Sinanju."
Smith blinked owlishly behind his rimless eyeglasses.
"I don't know what to say," he said at last. "I do not credit the existence of ghosts. Yet these incidents at Grand Forks defy explanation. Why would a ghost haunt a nuclear-missile grid? Why would he steal such a bizarre assortment of items?"
"Maybe it's a poltergeist," Remo said with a chuckle. "Do we believe in those, Little Father?"
"Possibly," Chiun said vaguely. "I am only acquainted with the habits of Korean spirits."
Smith cleared his throat. "The President wants you both to go to North Dakota immediately. Whether a human agency is at work or not, we feel only your abilities can solve this problem." Smith extracted a sheaf of thin papers from his gray coat and placed them on the table. "This is a copy of the official OSI report on the incidents, as well as precise instructions for entering the facility. Please commit them to memory and eat them."
Remo and Chiun looked up from the paper with blank expressions. Remo fingered the thin top sheet.
"Rice paper," Smith explained. "The ink is vegetable-based."
"No chance," Remo said.
"I will see that Remo chews them thoroughly before swallowing," the Master of Sinanju assured Harold Smith as he got up to leave.
"No freaking chance," Remo repeated.
On his way out the door, Smith remembered something.
"Oh, the sugar. I would have a hard time explaining this visit to my wife if I returned empty-handed."