〃What？〃
〃I like being called names by shitfaces like you。 Because it justifies all the painful things I'm going to do to you。 And these turds that hover around you； like flies around a pig's ass。〃
Ratchett clutched in awesome excitement at his organ。
〃I don't want to have to look at your ugly pimpled face anymore or hear that belching that you call words。 Now step forward； shit。 Step forward one inch； and I'm going to fix you so that you'll never walk again without the pain reminding you of me。 e on。 Just one inch。〃
The leader laughed。 But his followers didn't。 They waited； and their silence shouted at him； and accused him； and finally； in frustration； he stepped forward； just one inch； and then he moved himself into something very fast that seemed to plunge a knife into his kneecap； and then there was a wrench； and then the sky； and then that awful tearing； and he was staring at the sky and it became dark； then black； then nothing。
Remo worked the others rather lightly。 The right hand fingernails took care of an eyeball each on chain and knife at the right end of the line。
The elbow took care of chain at the left； and Remo was pleased when it neatly smashed the nose like a dried cracker； without slipping off toward the potentially…fatal upper lip。 The edge of his left hand cracked like a baseball bat against the forehead of lug wrench； second from the left； and he dropped in a heap。
This wouldn't do。 Five of them were down； and Remo still hadn't moved from the spot。 All that was left was knife and chain in the middle。
If Remo had raised his arms and shouted 〃boo；〃 they would have fun。 But Remo needed them。 He didn't want it to look too easy。 He backed up a step； encouraging knife and chain to charge。 He moved around between the two of them； lunging； blocking； making it all look…very hard； and then suddenly he didn't give a shit who was watching； and he busted an ear drum on each one of them。
So there they were； seven of them groaning on the gravel。 Ratchett spent； Brewster； who had e to the door； on the verge of a scream of gratitude； and Remo holding his head。 Remo was holding his head because he had collected some blood from one of the seven and he put it on his head to show a wound。 Then； still bent over； he forced his mind onto his blood vessels…out； in； circulation…very strong thoughts of fire； oppression； sweltering sun taking his fluids； and was finally able to work up a sweat。
〃I love you。 I love you；〃 yelled Ratchett。 Then he ran inside； presumably； Remo thought； to change his pants。
〃That ode's still bovid；〃 Brewster called through his broken nose。 〃Kick hib or sobthid。〃
〃You kick him；〃 Remo said。
〃I deed a doctor；〃 Brewster said and vanished indoors。
With the exception of their leader whose knee cap had turned suddenly to jelly； the cyclists were capable of driving away。 They carried Mr。 Six…Foot…Six。
Then something very surprising happened。 The staff of Brewster Forum…the faces in the pictures； the new intellectuals…crowded around Remo like school children； congratulating him。 There was Ferrante。 And Schulter。 There was even the forum's chess instructor； who said something about 〃a game some time。〃
But Remo wasn't paying attention。 He was looking for one who wasn't there； the black…haired beauty who had vanished into the last cottage as soon as the fight ended。
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was noon； and as he did every day； Remo checked Dial…a…Prayer in Chicago。 The Reverend Sminstershoop was still in Psalms。
Genesis would have begun a get…ready countdown。 Ec…clesiastes would have given Remo a day to …finish his assignment。 Deuteronomy meant all plans out the window； wipe out the place and split。
But Psalms just meant another day at peak readiness。 Yea； though he walked through the valley of death； he could not relax； let the tension drain； recoup his powers。 He feared only the evil of diminishing every day。 Already； if he were to risk the cat fall； he knew he would not just make a sound； he would probably get a concussion。
So he spoke a number into the tape recording。 The number was of his telephone booth with the area code placed last； the traditional way of destroying as many links as possible； even if those links were to your own people； monitoring ining phone calls for people they did not know。
And he hung up； not by returning the receiver； but by leaning his phone arm down on the cradle。 He kept it there five minutes while chattering away to no one。 On the first buzz before the bell engaged in the first ring； Remo released the cradle。
〃It's me；〃 he said； that being enough identification。 At one time he had a number； but he could never remember it； and Smith finally told him to forget it。 〃Look； I spoke with everyone but the woman here。 And I don't believe the pictures。 Were the photos possibly phonys？〃
〃No。 We got the original negatives。 We matched the grains right from the beginning。 Why do you ask？〃
〃I just wanted to be helpful。〃
〃Don't be helpful。 The photos aren't your primary purpose there。 Have you arranged for。。。 for whatever might be necessary？〃 Even on a scrambled phone that could not be tapped； Smith was cautious。
〃That's all done；〃 Remo said。 〃This is a togetherness joint。 Every night； all the boys gather around the recreation room。 Give me five minutes and I can rig the air…conditioning to do the job。〃
〃How about individuals？〃
〃No problem there； either。 I can talk them all to death。〃
〃Is that supposed to be funny？ What the hell is the matter with you。 You're getting。。。 unstable。〃
Remo knew that was the second worst word in Smith's vocabulary。 Worst was 〃inpetent。〃
〃I want to go off peak。〃
〃No。〃
〃Why not？〃
〃Because you're on a job。〃
〃I'm losing my edge。〃
〃Don't give me that gymnasium talk。 Edge this； peak that。 Just stay in shape。〃
〃I'm slipping。〃
〃You'll do。〃
〃I'm going slowly crazy。〃
〃You always were。〃
〃I think I'm getting inpetent。〃
〃Would one day help？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃One day might be all right。 Yes。 Take it if you need it。 But don't make it a big day。 We don't know what the sister agencies might e up with； and when you might have to move。〃
〃Okay。〃 Remo changed the subject before Smith had a chance to change his mind。 〃Did you get the package I sent you？ The wallets？〃
〃Yes。 We're working on them； but they're difficult to trace。 By the way。。。…。〃
〃No more 'by the ways'。〃
〃By the way；〃 Smith persisted。 〃Have you found out what they do there？ I mean。。。 their little plan？〃
〃You wouldn't understand it if I told you；〃 Remo said； hanging up。 He was already halfway toward being an intellectual； the main ingredient being to have someone around to be a non…intellectual。
Maybe that's what the forum was all about。 An elaborate hustle。 Remo didn't believe that any of the scientists at Brewster Forum； up to and including its founder； could have produced a plan to conquer a phone booth。 Not one of the scientists had given even a hint of doing any kind of work the government might possibly think was important。 And Remo had talked to all of them； except for the dark…haired beauty； Dr。 Deborah Hirshbloom。
Strangely enough； he already liked them。 Very smart； Remo。 Now all you have to do is to fall in love with Dr。 Deborah Hirshbloom。 That would really be smart。
Perhaps if he had been trained to work up a hate。 Professional football players do it。 Why not him？ Because； sweetheart； you were taught to work up a nothing。 Start hating and that's the next best thing to loving for making you inpetent。 Shit； next thing you know； you'll be a human being。 And then look where all that wonderful money would go。 Down the drain。 All that money that was spent to make you the wonderful nothing you are。 A man who can hold his arm extended； absolutely motionless； not one shake； for fifty…three minutes。 Let's hear it for the geniuses who run this country。 Let's hear it for CURE。 Hush。 Hush。 Hush。
Staying at peak does wonders for the mental processes。 Yes； Remo； talk to yourself。 Let's hear it for CURE。 Hush。 Hush。 Hush。
You've heard of the right hand not knowing what the left is doing。 Well； our cuticles don't know what our knuckles are doing。 Let's hear it for CURE。 Hush。 Hush。 Hush