Brain Storm

27

Harold W. Smith trudged wearily up the stairs to his bedroom. He had taken his shoes off at the door and carried them, so as not to wake his wife so late. Only when he entered the room did he remember that Maude had gone out of town to visit their daughter.

She had been telling him for weeks. Like so much of his life that did not revolve around his work, Smith had simply forgotten.

He removed his jacket and tie and lay down atop the bedcovers.

He was so drained he didn't have the energy to put on his pajamas.

He lay there for a few long seconds, in dress shirt and pants, staring at the shadows of the room.

It had been a grueling, grueling week.

He had denied his body sleep for so long, he began to see things in the room around him. Strange black shapes flitted out from the corners as car headlights dragged through the room and across the walls. A patch of darkness seemed to coalesce. It was a bizarre vision. He saw the face of Captain Josef Menk fade up out of the shadows. It was an eerie image in a week of foolish daydreams. His exhausted mind was playing tricks on him.

Suddenly Menk spoke: "You destroyed everything."

Smith was immediately alert. The voice was real.

It was in his room. He sat up in bed.

"You did it to yourself," he said crisply.

"No!" It was Lothar Holz who stepped out into the room. "It was you! You started this downward spiral! You ruined my life." His eyes glared hate-fully at Smith, and Smith fully saw the family resemblance.

"I refuse to be blamed for your personal failings."

Holz took another step. "At the lab, you spoke of Usedom."

Smith's nod was nearly imperceptible.

"You are the one. You killed Josef Menk."

"I did what I had to do," Smith said coldly.

"You killed my grandfather!"

"Your grandfather was a murderer."

"No! No!" His eyes were wild. "My grandfather was a great man!"

With no warning, Holz lunged for Smith.

At the last minute, a long-nailed hand swiped down from out of the shadows.

It met Holz in the abdomen, knocking him away from Smith. He fell against the wall beneath the window.

The Master of Sinanju stepped out of the shadows, talons raised protectively.

He positioned himself between Smith and Holz.

Remo seemed to fade in, as well. He moved away from Chiun, toward Lothar Holz.

Holz stood, shuddering. The spastic contortions his muscles were making made it difficult for him to focus. He saw Remo moving toward him. He braced himself for an attack.

"I would stay back if I were you. I have all your programming," Holz bragged, sneering. He tapped his forehead. "It is all up here."

Remo's face was unchanged. "Then it's time I crashed your system," he said, flatly.

Holz flew at Remo, hands flashing frenetically. He threw everything he had in one assault. Every Sinanju move the computer link had loaded into his mind. Holz went for the complex, but Remo opted for the elementary. When the PlattDeutsche vice president was within arm's reach, the broad side of Remo's hand cracked down against Holz's temple.

Holz felt the pressure in his skull. The new eyes Sinanju had given him were still quick enough to see the hand pull away. The pain in his brain joined the crescendo of agony that had been building in his spine, and in a white-hot moment of pure torture every pain receptor along his entire nervous system fired in perfect, harmonic torment.

The intense, horrific, excruciating anguish he suffered seemed to last an eternity. In reality, it was only a matter of seconds.

Lothar Holz was dead before he hit the floor.

Smith stepped over from his bed. "Your suspicion was correct," he said to Chiun. The Master of Sinanju bowed slightly.

"How did you know it wasn't him back at the warehouse?" Remo asked, glancing away from the body.

"Because I use my eyes for seeing," Chiun said blandly. "I do not yet know what it is you do with yours." He clapped his hands. "Come, Remo. Remove this refuse from the emperor's bedchambers.

We go." With that, Chiun marched boldly out the door and down the stairs.

Remo stared after him for a few seconds. Finally he turned to Smith. "You'd think I would have wanted them to rewrite his program just a little," he said, grinning broadly.

With a reluctant sigh, he hefted the body of Lothar Holz up onto his shoulders and followed the Master of Sinanju out the door.

Document Outline

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Warren Murphy - Destroyer 112 - Brain Drain