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His kneeling legs went slack.
Then all movement ceased, and the Master of Sinanju realized he was holding up
inert flesh.
"Dead?" Remo asked.
Chiun nodded. "His wicked heart could not stand the strain, he has dropped his
body."
Chiun released Colonel William Bragg's head. It swayed forward with sickening
slowness. Bragg hit the rug with his face. His body curled like a hunched red
question mark.
Down the corridor, the humming elevator doors released a cacophony of shouting
voices.
"The cops," Remo said. "I gotta go."
" I am going with you," Chiun said.
"No, you gotta keep Nostrum going. Just leave me out of it. I'll be at the
hotel. Check with me after this is over."
And Remo drifted back into the trading room. He stepped out through a
shattered window and used the molding between windows to get him to the roof.
There he walked to the back of the building, where the alley below was empty
of official vehicles.
Remo began his spiderlike descent to the ground, his face hard.
Chapter 18
Dr. Harold W. Smith was monitoring the stock market when three things happened
simultaneously.
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His secretary buzzed him.
The first bulletin telling of the massacres at Nostrum, Ink, flashed on his
computer.
And the news of P. M. Looncraft's successful takeover of the Global
Communications Conglomerate appeared beside the first bulletin.
For a rare moment, Smith sat paralyzed, uncertain what to deal with first.
His eyes on the screen, he fumbled for his intercom.
"Yes?" he snapped harshly.
"Mr. Winthrop calling. Again."
"I've no time right now. Tell him I'll call him back."
"Yes, sir."
Smith's widening eyes followed the twin bulletins. As an electronic facsimile
of the New York Stock Exchange broadtape marched across the top of the screen,
two text windows below it scrolled out news digests.
Smith tried to read them both simultaneously. As a consequence, he had the
momentary impression that P.M. Looncraft had massacred the stockholders of
Global Communications Conglomerate.
Smith squeezed his eyes tightly, striking a key that froze the Looncraft
bulletin. He recalled the Nostrum digest from the top, and started over.
According to the bulletin, there had been a massacre on the trading floor of
Nostrum, Ink, resulting in casualties. The assailants had all been killed
during the attack, which the New York police were blaming on disgruntled
investors wiped out by Dark Friday. The CEO of Nostrum was answering
questions, but was unable to shed any more light on the attack.
Smith exhaled a sigh of relief. That meant Chiun had not been harmed. There
was no mention of Remo. Another relief. No mention meant that Remo was neither
dead nor being questioned. That was all Smith needed. He had long ago
programmed his computers to flag any news reports of anyone named Remo,
regardless of last name. Five minutes per day were spent scanning news reports
of newsworthy Remos from coast to coast, but it was worth it.
At the end of the digest, there was a curious addendum. It was a single
sentence: "Police could not explain why the assailants were dressed in
pre-Revolutionary military uniforms."
Smith blinked. "Pre-Revolutionary?" he muttered to himself. "Which revolution?
Russian? Chinese? Filipino?"
That was one of the problems of relying on news digests. Important details
were often squeezed out by the automatic digest program.
The report on the Global acquisition was even more astonishing. According to
it, P. M. Looncraft had announced an eighty-dollar-per-share buy-out offer for
Global Communications Conglomerate. He had obtained financing from the
Lippincott Mercantile Bank. And within an hour of the public announcement,
arrangements had been made to obtain large blocks of GLB owned by Crown
Acquisitions, Limited, and the infamous DeGoone Slickens. The financial world
was abuzz, the report concluded, with the speed with which Looncraft had
obtained Slickens' holdings, because it gave him the edge he needed to absorb
Global.
"This is very odd," Harold Smith told himself.
The intercom buzzed again.
"Yes?" Smith said distractedly.
"It's Mr. Winthrop again. He says it's urgent."
"Urgent? Ask him his business."
Smith recalled the Looncraft bulletin once again and went through it. His
secretary's voice interrupted once more.
"He says it's personal and private, but won't say any more."
"Take his number," Smith snapped. "I'll get back to him. "
"Yes, Dr. Smith."
By the time Dr. Smith finished rereading the Looncraft bulletin, he had
already forgotten about Winthrop's call.
Hours later, he still had not returned it, as other bulletins came to his
attention. P. M. Looncraft had moved quickly to take control of GLB, promising
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that new programming would begin at once, and would consist of significant
blocks of foreign programming designed to broaden America's cultural horizons.
Existing news programs would continue as before, Looncraft had assured Global
News Network subscribers.
On the Nostrum massacre, the first identifications were coming in on the dead.
The assailants who had been positively identified included a Connecticut
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