"Destroyer 040 - Dangerous Games.pdb" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Remo)

Dr. Harold W. Smith did not like to meet in public places. That was his position. Remo's position was that if Smith wanted to meet with him and Chum, he would have to meet where Remo told him to.
And so, because he knew that Remo was quite capable of disappearing for three months without even a word, Dr. Smith found himself hi a cable car high above the pedestrian walkways of the Bronx Zoo, trying to explain the latest problem to his two assassins.
"Really, Remo. The Bronx Zoo?" Smith complained.
"I like zoos," Remo said. "I haven't been to a zoo in a long time."
Chiun leaned close to Smith. "He is hoping to find some relatives, Emperor," he whispered loudly in Smith's ear.
"I heard that," Remo snarled.
Chiun looked up with an expression of bland innocence.
"And stop calling him emperor," Remo said.
Chiun seemed surprised. For thousands of years the Masters of Sinanju had contracted out their services to emperors, czars and kings of the world, and he thought it only fitting to refer to Smith as Emperor Smith. He said to Smith, "Ignore him. He is testy because everybody in the monkey house looks
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exactly like him and he can't pick one relative from the next."
Smith pointed at the only other occupant of the cable car, a man asleep at the far end, sprawled across the seats. Remo and Chiun could tell he was stone drunk, because for them the fumes of his inebriation hung like thick fog in the car.
"He's out of it," Remo said. "Don't worry about it. So I'm supposed to babysit the entire Olympic team?"
"Foolish child," Chiun said quickly. "The emperor would not ask you to perform such an impossible task. This assignment seems most reasonable."
Remo looked at him suspiciously. He knew that Chiun generally thought that Smith was a lunatic because Smith resisted all Chiun's offers to eliminate the president of the United States and make Smith ruler-for-life.
And then Remo understood.
"Don't let him soft-soap you, Smitty. He wants to get over to Moscow for the Olympics so he can win a gold medal and go on television and get rich doing endorsements."
"Chiun?" Smith asked, leaning back and looking at the frail, aged Korean.
"Why not?" Remo asked. "He can win any event he enters. All of them, for that matter. So can I."
"For once you speak the truth, housefly," Chiun said. "He is right, Emperor."
"Well, Remo, you'll get a chance to prove it," Smith said. "The people in Moscow are being just about what you'd expect. Stubborn. They don't want any American security people in Russia. They figure they'll be CIA agents spying on them."
"We could send the whole CIA and they'd be lucky to find the Olympic Stadium," Remo said.
"If you want us to get secrets," Chiun started to tell Smith.
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"I appreciate the offer, Master," said Smith. "I really do. Perhaps another tune. Rerao, you'll have to travel with the team as an athlete. But you'll have to work your way on through competition."
"You've got to be kidding," Remo said.
"This is wonderful," Chiun said. "If I can't go for the gold myself, who better than my own son?" He leaned close to Smith again. "He's not really my son because he's funny-colored, but I just say that to make him feel good." He leaned back. "Of course, I will travel with him."
"Of course," Smith said. "You can travel as his trainer."
"Perfect," said Chiun.
"This is a pain," Remo said.
"It will work out fine," Smith said. "Are you sure he's asleep down there?" He pointed again to the drunk at the end of the car.
"Out for the night," Remo said.
"What events shall we compete in?" Chiun asked Remo.
"I don't care. Pick one."
"You could win all the track events easily," Chiun said.
"Yeah," Remo said. "What've we got? The dashes, the hurdles, the 800 meter, the 1500, the mile, two-mile. There's the marathon, and . . . let's see, things like shotput, and pole vault, high jump, long jump. Aaaah, there's a lot of them."
"And gymnastics," Chiun reminded.
"Horse, parallel bars, rings, balance beam . . ."
"And be careful not to set any new world records at these qualifying contests," Chiun said. "That's not where the endorsement money comes from. Save the world records for the Olympics."
"Yes, Little Father."
"You can't possibly compete in all those events," Smith said, trying to regain control of the discussion.
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"The brilliance of the Emperor," Chiun said. "Of course he is right, Remo. If you competed in every event, you would win every event, and so there would be no need to send an Olympic team."
"So? Then I wouldn't have to babysit them."
Smith shook his head in disbelief. "You're not babysitting. Go to Moscow, find out where the threat comes from, and eliminate it."
"And win gold medals," Chiun said.
"Maybe they give one out for stupid assignments," Remo said. He looked at their faces and threw up his hands. "All right, all right. Pick an event. Not a marathon or anything like that. Something that doesn't take a lot of time. I just want to get in there and get out of there is all."
"We will let an impartial party decide what medal you should win," Chiun said. He stood up and walked to the sleeping drunk, touching him quickly on the shoulder. The man did not stir. Chiun called out twice, softly. "Wake up. Wake up." The man did not move. Chiun took the man's right earlobe between thumb and forefinger and squeezed.
"Yeow," the man yelled, jerking awake. He looked around in surprise, and saw Chiun standing in front of him, resplendent in a heavily brocaded yellow daytime robe.
"I must be dreaming," the derelict said. He rubbed his ear. But if he was dreaming, why did his ear hurt so much?