Chinese Puzzle

YES, MR. PRESIDENT

The President of the United States sat in the large soft chair, his shoeless feet resting on a green hassock before him, his eyes riveted on predawn Washington.

His closest advisor was summing up in his professional manner: "It would not do to minimize what has happened. The dead man was, after all, a personal emissary from the Premier. But the Premier's visit to this country is still on. For one thing, the emissary was not poisoned over American territory."

"The people who poisoned him, who could they have been? We have absolutely no clues from our intelligence. The Russians? Taiwan? Who? And I don't want history, Professor, I want information. Hard today information on how the Chinese security system could be breached."
"That is unavailable as yet."

"All right. damnit, then I've decided."

The advisor looked up querulously. "Yes?"

"That's it! I can't tell you anymore."

Then he was alone, as every leader of every nation had always been when the difficult decisions had to be made. He lifted the receiver of a phone he had used only once since he had been inaugurated. The President said: "Hello. Sorry to wake you. I need his services ... it is a grave crisis ... I want to talk to him... tell him to stand by for immediate service ... understand, it's just an alert. Not a commitment."

But Remo Williams knew otherwise. Alert. Commitment. Hell — with him in the picture it was past the point of no return. It was them or us!