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where he had unravelled the strings according to instructions taught him years before。
Under a half…page biography of Dr。 Abram Schulter； M。D。； Ph。D。； fellow of the American College of Surgeons； Diplomate of the American Neurological Society； Nobel Laureate； pioneer in brain surgery； was a photograph of Doctor Schulter in action。
He was nude； a frail man with a big； happy grin； fornicating with a dark haired girl。 Strapped to his back； and just as obviously mounting him； was a toy giraffe； the large furry type children like to pretend they are riding。
Doctor Schulter was smiling as if he had realized something very funny。 Perhaps； thought Remo； that he loved the giraffe more。
The two other pictures showed Doctor Schulter：
A） mounting the toy with the girl mounting him；
B） mounted by the toy which was mounted by the girl。
The biography continued： 〃Doctor Schulter。 Foremost authority on brain waves。 Married 20 years； two children； active in Professional Societies； American Art Association； National Disturbed Children Foundation。 No serious political connections。 Top security clearance。〃
Then Remo went though the other pictures and biographies。
Dr。 Anthony J。 Ferrante； an expert in bio…feedback； whatever the hell that was； stood in a karate shirt minus the karate pants。 He did not need the pants to protect his modesty because there was a girl in the camera's way。 On her knees。 Apparently the same girl who had been teaching the neurosurgeon the secrets of the giraffe was now demonstrating a different kind of secret to Dr。 Ferrante。 Doctor Ferrante was demonstrating to the camera a karate blow。 His face was dark and intent。 Karate； thought Remo； can be serious business。
Dr。 Robert Boyle； a bio…cycle analyst； liked the plain old missionary position。 This was not surprising since Doctor Boyle was a Jesuit priest。
Dr。 Nils Brewster； … distinguished head of Brewster Forum and author of the famous 〃Dynamics of Peace； the study of aggression and containment；〃 discovered a new level of containment。 He was dressed in chains。
Dr。 James Ratchett； biochemist； was dressed formally。 In a top hat； black cape and bare front。 He was being whipped by the black…haired girl who appeared in all the pictures。 Two other photos showed Ratchett making it with the girl。 He had dropped the cape and still visible across his back were the angry pouting welts of the whip。
But on Doctor Ratchett's biography was a hand…written note。 It was Smith's handwriting。
〃Dr。 Ratchett is a notorious homosexual。〃
Remo went through the photographs three times。 The chuckles had dwindled to boredom by the end of the first round。 The girl was the same in each picture。 Remo regretted his only cursory knowledge of photography； but the pictures looked extremely well lighted and posed； as though a fine fashion photographer had played the scene for drama…highlights； explosive beams； shadows。
These were the great minds America would rather see dead than。。。。 Than what？ Smith had said he did not know than what？
Remo set the photos out in rows on the brown tile ？motel sink。 He opened his eyes wide； then splashed his eyes along the rows of photographs； blinking rapidly； turning his eyes％ and brain into a giant stroboscopic system； registering every detail； every shadow indelibly on his brain。 He performed the exercise twice； to be sure he had missed nothing。 Done。 He had been peaked too long。 Ordinarily； once would have been enough。
Smith's words repeated themselves to Remo as he dropped the pictures into the motel washbasin； holding a last typewritten sheet which was a transcription of a conversation。 Smith had told him：
〃All we know is something is wrong。 We can't； under any circumstances； allow these people's efforts to be used by any other power。 We don't even know yet if whoever is producing these pictures is international or criminal。 We just don't know。 We do know that we want these scientists' abilities to be denied at a moment's notice to whoever is doing whatever the hell is going on there。 That means they must be eliminated on mand。 And that means you must set them up。〃
And other words came back to Remo： 〃Stupidity is a function of mankind； ignorance the beginning of wisdom； wisdom the knowledge of ignorance。〃 That was Chiun； his instructor。
Chiun always had a bit of wisdom that didn't seem to mean anything； until one day you needed it。〃 Now it meant something。
He had been kept at peak alert for three months while CURE attempted to figure out what it was protecting； and with the first sign that it was in danger； they sent in their weapon to be able to destroy it on mand。
〃Brilliant；〃 Remo said to himself； running water into the sink。 He watched the photographs bee white； then separate； then dissolve and turn the water in the sink to milk。 〃Brilliant。〃
And he played with an idea he played with almost every month。 Running。 He could never be a cop again； he had no past。 But he might be able to get into the Teamsters or even into a job where no one cared about the past。 Maybe a salesman。 Maybe open a store somewhere after clipping CURE for a bundle。 A store。 … A wife。 A family。 A home。
And then one day he would lift a car off a person； or settle a dispute in a bar and do it just a mite too well； and CURE would find him。 And that would be that； because by then there would be another just like him and if that person came delivering the mail or the milk； Remo would be dead。 If a thinking man wants to get you badly enough； he will get you。 How few people realized their vulnerability。。。 well； why should they？ No one was after them。
And so the pictures were now liquid and Remo Williams pulled the plug and let them go down the drain where they would wash into sewers and then rivers； and then never be seen again。 Lucky fucking pictures。
Remo read the transcript。 〃A conversation between A and B two years ago。 B is another agency； same' team。 A is the head of XXX。〃
Even in a water seal envelope； CURE took precautions to break links。
〃A） What we're doing is taking traditional parts to make a new sum。 An interdisciplinary approach to an old situation； the dynamics of conflict。
〃B） You're trying to find out why people have conflicts with other people； correct？
〃A） In a way； perhaps。 You see； man as an animal has conquered the world。 Conquered other animals。 With ease； as a matter of fact； even though today individual man isn't sure of it。 With that out of the way； man has turned to the only challenge left。 Conquering other men。 The history of war shows that。 Well； why should some men conquer and some be conquered？ What are the dynamics of that？ That's our problem。 If you knew； you could defeat any army in the world today with a smaller army。 You might say a simple little plan to conquer the world； which I'm sure some politician cr militarist would just delight in。 But you see the plan is really irrelevant； because conquest is meaningless until you define conqueror aria〃 conquered。
〃B） You have a plan to conquer the world？
〃A） Oh gracious； don't tell me you're one of those。 If someone told you he unlocked the atom； would you run out right away to try to use it in a lightbulb or a bomb？
〃B） This little plan to conquer the world？ Have you achieved it？
〃A） What difference does it make9 It's only a minor byproduct of our basic work here at XXX。
〃B） Would you explain that minor function？
〃A） No； not now。 Only when we're ready； and then as part of the full corpus of our work。 Otherwise； you can imagine the sort of people we'd have running around here； I'd close the forum first。〃
End of Transcript。
Remo filled the basin with water again and let the transcript go the way of the pictures； first to whiteness； then particles； then dissolve。
That answered one of the why's。 A was Nils Brewster； head of the Brewster Forum which had its hands on 〃a little plan to conquer the world。〃 Brewster would stop everything if he thought the military or the government was moving in。 That explained why the forum had been a CURE function。 Probably because better than any other group in the world； CURE could watch something or someone without anyone knowing…neither those under surveillance nor those doing the surveillance。
And then the photographs turned up。 And that indicated that some other force was involved somehow。 Moving in。 And the United States could not allow this little plan to conquer the world to go to someone else。 And therefore everyone involved； everyone who might know； must die…if it proved necessary。
Remo pulled the plug in the sink and the milky water disappeared。 Maybe a sports store in Des Moines； thought Remo； or a bar in Troy； Ohio。 That woman in the cab would give him a remendation。 The bar would be nice。 Until a customer put a bullet hi his head； then took money from the cash register to make it seem like a robbery。
CHAPTER SEVEN
Remo didn't believe it。
He had driven past a sign that read 〃Brewster Forum；〃 into a lovely little village； then through the village； then past a blank sign which he read in his rear…view mirror as 〃Brewster Forum。〃
He turned around on a gravel road and drove the rented car back。 Plush little homes； some with sweeping green lawns； others hidden by shrubs； manicured sidewalks and roads； tennis courts； a golf course with only one foursome and a circle of small； quaint cottages。
The August sun blessed the rolling Virginia terrain。 A man in blue Bermuda shorts and an old gray shirt pedaled slowly along the asphalt； puffing a pipe rhythmically。 He was a small； thin man； with a kind and； thoughtful face which Remo recognized in a flash。 The man with the giraffe。 Remo braked the car。
〃Sir；〃 he called out to Dr。 Abram Schulter。
The man on the bicycle seemed startled and stopped； almost capsizing himself。 He was the only other person on the street。 He looked at Remo； then pointed to himself。
〃Me？〃 asked the foremost neurosurgeon in the world。
〃Yes；〃 said Remo； 〃I'm looking for Brewster Forum。〃
〃Ah； yes。 Of course。 Why else would you be here？ Yes。 Natural。 Very natural。〃
〃Is this Brewster Forum？
〃Yes。 Did you miss the signs？〃 〃
〃No。〃
〃Then what would lead you to believe this is not Brewster Forum？〃
〃Well； I expected some fences or something。〃
〃Whatever for？〃
Remo could not answer that question。 What was he to say？ Because you're doing something so top secret that you are going to die before your country will let your work go to anyone else？〃
Not even a fence。 What was probably the highest priority secret project in the nation and not even a fence。
〃Well； to keep people out；〃 Remo answered。
〃Out of what？；〃 pleasantly asked the son of a bitch who liked to screw toy giraffes。
〃Out of this place；〃 said Remo； barely pleasant。
〃Why would we want to keep anyone out？〃
〃I don't know；〃 Remo had to say。
〃Then why should we have a fence？〃
Remo had to shrug。
〃That's an interesting question you asked； son；〃 said Doctor Schulter。 〃Why does man continuously seek to set boundaries？ Is it to keep people out or just to identify who should be kept out？〃
In a vein of nastiness which Remo knew he should not allow himself； he snarled。 〃The latter； of course。 It's obvious to anyone who plants tomatoes。〃 And he drove off； leaving the man to puzzle； with the pipe now working furiously in his mouth。
Remo drove back to the cluster of cottages； parking near a fieldstone walk that led to a larger white building with green shutters； shaded by large oaks。 The newness of the buildings indicated they had been built for proximity to the towering trees。
Remo followed the fieldstones to the door of the building and knocked。 He could see a gravel driveway fifty yards away that led into the circle of cottages but he preferred the walk； a luxury he allowed himself only rarely。 Just doing something because he felt like it。 Almost like a human being。
The brass knocker was made in a peace symbol design； a circle with the outline of a phantom bomber inside it。 At least that was what it had always looked like to the man who was now Remo Pelham； sent to replace Peter McCarthy。
The door opened and down around the doorknob was a little girl with pigtails； round pink cheeks； a smile and dancing eyes。
〃Hello；〃 she said。 〃My