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."All you're giving us is speculation," he said."You don't knowwhat's going to happen in the next two minutes, let alone the next half hour.And you certainly can't predict the behavior of our test subjects even if thesynthetic's effect does level off as you suggest."Sternovsky put his hands to his head and pulled at his comb-over, making itstick straight up."You're not listening!" he cried."There is no door, noPage 87ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmllock on this ward that will hold them.""I think we've heard enough," Fillmore said."No, you haven't," the biochemist countered."God forgive us for what we'vedone to them, but these test subjects are no longer human beings.If you don'teuthanize them now, and quickly, while they are still in a stuporous state,they will wake up and kill us all."Fillmore had always figured Sternovsky for a whiner.There was something weakin the eyes and the dark circles that surrounded them.But the expression henow wore clearly declared he had reached his limit.No amount of browbeatingwould bring him back into line."I'm canceling your contract, as of thisinstant," the elder Fing said."Turn in your security badge at the deskdownstairs and be off the grounds in two hours or I'll have you arrested.""That suits me fine," Sternovsky said."Just remember I told you so when theshit hits the fan." The lanky researcher, his hair still alarmingly upright,stormed off and out the bank-vault door.The Fings and their U.S.attorney watched the man go."Could he make trouble for us, patent-wise, somewhere down the line?"Koch-Roche asked."A brilliant biochemist," Fillmore said, "but he has absolutely no businesssense.The agreement he signed with Family Fing surrendered all commercialrights to the product.""He actually signed something like that?""The contract was written in Chinese.""Don't tell me," the lawyer said."He used a translator that yourecommended."Fillmore smiled.Suddenly, the steady, sloppy sounds of sucking ceased."They've stopped eating," one of the orderlies cried."They've all stoppedeating.Look!" Fillmore half turned to follow the man's pointing finger.Thevideo monitors behind the nurses' station counter all showed movement.Thetest subjects had dropped their feeding tubes and, one by one, were rising totheir feet.Chapter 30Remo had no complaint about the directions he'd been given by the bilingualcar-rental clerk at the airport.After an hour and a half of driving on atwo-lane road that ran straight as a string through miles of openfarmland-pancake flat, diked and about half of it flooded for the cultivationof rice-the lights of Family Fing Pharmaceuticals had come into view.In thedistance, he could see the white towers of the plant complex rising up out ofthe blackness of the plain.The feeling of dread he got every time he lookedat them was very intense.Up until this point, he and Chiun had had the luxury of confronting thehormone-altered killers one at a time.The last one, old Ludlow Baculum, hadnearly had Remo's guts for garters, and would have succeeded if Chiun had notintervened at the last second.In the area of sheer physical power, Remo hadnever encountered foes quite like these.The idea that he would have toconfront them en masse, and very soon, sent a chill down the back of hisneck.Chiun sat in the passenger seat, apparently unconcerned about what dangermight lurk in the white complex ahead.Under the glow of the map light, he wasflipping through the fax Dr.Smith had sent them along with their planetickets in L.A.As well as the particulars of the layout of the pharmaceuticalcomplex, he'd included photos of all the prime players he'd identified.It wasthis group of faces that the Master was so intently studying."Sheesh, haven't you memorized those stupid mug shots by now?" Remo askedhim.When Chiun looked up from the series of black-and-white pictures, he wore anexpression that Remo knew all too well: the mask of Masterly disappointment.Which immediately put the pupil on the defensive."What?" Remo said."What?"Page 88ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"How do you intend to find our targets?" Chiun asked."By their noses? Orperhaps their ears?""How about the happy confluence of same?" Remo said."It's called a face.Everybody's got one."Chiun heaved a sigh before he continued, in lecture mode."The truly skilledassassin looks deeper than the superficial," he said."He looks inside, fortendencies, for relationships.Only in this way can he anticipate what the manhe hunts will do in a given situation, and use that knowledge to be waiting,ready to strike at exactly the right moment.""You can tell that from a picture? A bad picture at that?""All this can be seen in the position of the brow in relation to the nasalmeridian.The circular flow of energy around the eyes.And in other ways.""Such as?""Take this one," Chiun said, tapping at the top page with the tip of arazor-sharp fingernail."Here we have a man of about seventy years, whopretends to be much younger.He is willful.He is vain.He is greedy andruthless.A typical Chinese.""Did the width of his nose give him away?""No," Chiun said."It was his name-Fing.But that is not important.What isimportant is what the picture tells me of his true nature.This is a man whowill not fight his own battle unless he is cornered.This is a man who caresnothing for the lives of others, not even those of his own flesh and blood
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