"Even if it were true, NATO will not stand idly by," the president added. "You would be wise to surrender now."

"NATO?" scoffed Schatz. "NATO is nothing without the United States and Great Britain," he said dismissively. "At the moment England has its own problems with which to contend. As for the United States, it would perhaps have been wise if your predecessor had allowed the Americans to ?y over your country on their Libyan bombing raid. Since that time it has been dif?cult for the giant in North America to rouse itself to French causes."

The president agreed privately that the words had some validity. The current president's party had not been in power at the time. If it had been up to him, French planes would have joined their American allies in the bombing of the terrorist Arab state.

"We will see," the president said simply.

The radio on the stage suddenly crackled to life.

Schatz abandoned the president, marching back across the ?oor to the dais.

Behind him the president of France heard a soft voice.

"You would be advised not to incite him," Kluge whispered in English. His accent was distinctly British. "He is unstable."

The president was surprised. He had thought Kluge to be a subordinate who had lost favor with the n.a.z.i leader.

"You do not work for him?" the president whispered.

Kluge managed a sour laugh. "Hardly," he said. "I was sent to help by your good friends across the channel. Have you heard of Source?"

The president didn't have time to admit that he had. All at once Nils Schatz thundered loudly from atop the dais.

"This is an outrage!" he screamed. The radio operator cowered beneath him. "How many are dead?"

"We do not know yet," the radio man said. "Two trucks have been located on Rue de Clichy. Their drivers are both dead. One gruesomely."

"How?" Schatz demanded.

"His head was crushed beneath his own helmet, Fuhrer." He hesitated a moment. "I received news of similar deaths at one of our checkpoints earlier in the evening. Forgive me, Fuhrer, but I a.s.sumed these men who are working for us were inebriated. After all, what force could collapse a skull this way?" Schatz's mouth had become an angry, bloodless line. He spun away from the radio operator, looking down on Kluge.

On the ?oor Adolf Kluge's expression remained bland. He knew what must be going through the old man's crazed mind.

Sinanju. They were on their way.

It was his folly that had brought him to this. Kluge wasn't about to risk exposure by telling the self-t.i.tled fuhrer this in front of half the French government. Sitting cross-legged behind the French president, Adolf Kluge remained mute.

Schatz turned his wild-eyed attention from Kluge to the French president. He was silent for a long moment, reeling in place. Pale blue veins throbbed frantically beneath the dry skin at his temples.

So agitated did he appear, Kluge actually thought he might drop dead on the spot. Sadly it was not to be.

Finally, Nils Schatz spoke."Your people will be taught a lesson for this-" from the stage he aimed his cane at the president "-for this ...this ...outrage!" He screamed himself hoa.r.s.e, wheeling around to his skinhead attendants.

"Collect one hundred prisoners for every murdered soldier! I will give them a demonstration of our might at the primary target.

When they see it destroyed, the world will know not to tri?e with the Fourth Reich!"

He pushed away young hands that wished to help him down from the stage. Waving his cane like a bare ?agpole, Nils Schatz stormed from the room.

His insane shouting echoed down the empty corridors of the Palais de l'Elysee.

Chapter 30.

As they drove up in their borrowed truck, Remo was surprised to ?nd that someone had moved the line of concrete barriers that had been placed before the gates of the presidential palace. They were resting now to one side of the road. The bulldozer that had pushed them there sat quietly beside them. Huge tears had been made in the road, sc.r.a.ped up by the heavy concrete slabs.

"Maybe someone already took care of things," Remo suggested from the driver's seat.

A hail of bullets against the front of the truck a second later told them otherwise.

Smith was crouched down in the rear of the truck. Chiun had been riding shotgun. When the men on the grounds of the palace opened ?re, Chiun sprang from the truck and raced up the path that led inside the huge mansion. Remo paused only long enough to advise Smith to keep out of sight before he joined the Master of Sinanju outside the vehicle.

There were a few more bursts of automatic-weapons ?re from inside the grounds. Soon these fell silent.

After a minute Remo returned to the side of the truck.

"Coast is clear, Smitty," he called.

Smith got up from the ?oor and climbed into the cab. Remo helped him down to the ground.

At the front of the truck they met up with Chiun. "How does the emperor wish to proceed?" he asked.

"The fastest route inside," Smith stressed.

"Of course," Chiun said. "But it is customary at this time to do either one of two things. You may wish to rule from this place- which, as palaces go, is not without its charm. Or you may opt to sack the priceless artifacts from within and burn the building to its foundation."

"Neither," Smith said urgently. "We are not here as conquerors."

"Be advised, Emperor," Chiun said slyly, "the French are known the world over for the courtesies they extend to those who plunder and enslave. It is the only time they shine as a people."

"No, Chiun," Smith said ?rmly. He sidestepped the Master of Sinanju and ducked through the gates. Remo shrugged and trailed Smith inside.

Chiun shook his head in disapproving bewilderment.

"Americans," he muttered to himself. He wandered inside the palace grounds after Remo and Smith.

THEY HAD COME a few dozen yards up the drive when Smith literally stumbled across the ?rst body. Remo grabbed him before the CURE director toppled to the ground.

Smith looked down at the dead skinhead. Presumably he was one of those who had ?red on them upon their arrival. The young man's head appeared to have shriveled up beneath his helmet. An indented smiley face had been pressed into the drab metal exterior.There were two others lying nearby who had been similarly dispatched.

"That is unnecessary," Smith said, looking down at the helmet with a displeased expression.

"Hey, I don't tell you how to do your job," Remo remarked, defensively. He walked past Smith. They encountered no more resistance between the spot where the bodies lay and the palace.

"Hang back, Smitty."

Remo approached the door ?rst. The Master of Sinanju came up from behind, standing protectively next to the CURE director.

They could see Remo pause on one side of the staircase that led into the palace. He tipped his head oddly, looking over the side railing into a small landscaped garden beyond.

Abandoning the stairs, Remo slipped over the railing and disappeared from sight.

"What b.u.t.ter?y does he chase now?"

Perturbed, Chiun led Smith to the base of the stairway. They skirted it, going around the far side. The smell of death hit them immediately.

Smith saw dozens of bodies lying in a tangled bunch amid the roses and rhododendrons. They were French soldiers. The men who until yesterday had successfully guarded the palace.

Remo crouched at the edge of the pile of corpses. He was looking down at a particularly mangled body. The face was unrecognizable. It had been smashed repeatedly with a ?erce glee that was clearly unnecessary. The ?rst few blows had done the job. Most of these wounds had been in?icted after death.

When he stepped around Remo, Smith was surprised to see that it was the body of a woman. Remo looked up, face hard.

"You knew her?" Smith asked.

"I borrowed her phone a couple of times," Remo said tightly.

Smith understood immediately. "We must stop him before he kills again," he said softly.

Remo glanced back at the corpse. Nodding, he got to his feet. They left the body of Helene Marie-Simone in the small garden and continued inside.

ADOLF KLUGE SPOKE in German. Lest any of the French of?cials present understood the language, he pitched his voice low.

"You realize now that this operation is doomed to failure," he whispered.

The old radio operator glanced at the pair of skinhead guards near the door. Swallowing, he looked back at Kluge.

"We did not know it would come to this, Herr Kluge," he admitted sadly. "He promised glory."

"The time for glory has pa.s.sed, old friend," Kluge said. "The best we can hope for now is simply to survive."

He could see that he almost had the man on his side. Schatz had left ten minutes before. Kluge had been working hard to get the old n.a.z.i radio operator to see the futility of this insane campaign.

"I did it all for the fatherland," the old man said. His bloodshot eyes were moist.

"I'm sure you think that," Kluge replied. "But I a.s.sure you that you have done more harm here than good. Please help me to undo some of that damage. While there is still time."

The old man cast a glance at the pair of skinhead guards who were standing over near the dais. Each of them held a Gewehr a.s.sault ri?e. Proud of their rather limited role in the neo-n.a.z.i occupation, they stood at attention. They stared blankly ahead. Kluge suspected they were on some sort of drug.The old radioman had made up his mind. Turning away from the soldiers, he unclipped the single silver snapper on his hip holster.

He was about to reach for the gun in order to turn it over to Adolf Kluge when he was distracted by the sound of gun?re down the corridor.

The soldiers at the stage immediately grew alert, spinning toward the open door.

Kluge would never have a better chance.

He ripped the gun from the old n.a.z.i's holster, twisting the man around and using him as a human shield. To the French it looked as if his long secret conversation with the radioman had caused the old soldier to drop his guard.

"Get down!" Kluge yelled in French to the diplomats seated on the ?oor.

As the men and women ?ung themselves to the carpeted aisle, ?ngers interlocked above their heads, Adolf Kluge opened ?re on the pair of n.a.z.is at the front of the stage.

He took two shots at the nearest skinhead. The ?rst bullet caught the man in the rear of his left shoulder. He tried to turn on his attacker, but only made it halfway around when the second bullet caught him with a violent thwack in the temple. He toppled over, bouncing ?rst off the stage and then crumpling to the ?oor.

The second skinhead managed to get off a couple of shots from his ri?e.

Kluge felt a few rounds pound against the body of the old man. The n.a.z.i groaned no louder than if he had just awakened from a nightmare. He grew limp in Kluge's arm.

Another shot.

A single bullet ripped through Kluge's bicep. Lip curling in pain and anger, he ?ung the body of the dead n.a.z.i to the ?oor, at the same time tossing the gun from his injured arm to his good left hand. He caught the weapon and squeezed the trigger once.

The bullet snapped into the chest of the skinhead. The force of impact was so great, the man swirled around toward the stage, ?inging his gun to the ?oor. He sprawled across the stage, arms thrown wide. He didn't move again.

Ignoring his bleeding arm, Kluge turned on the gathered diplomats, including the president of France.

"Stay there," Kluge instructed.

The politicians weren't about to move. They looked on in fear as Kluge moved swiftly across the auditorium. On the way he gathered up one of the discarded ri?es.

Kluge propped his back against the wall inside the open door. He took a deep breath. Thus steadied, he jerked his body around, sticking the muzzle of the gun experimentally into the hallway.

Instantly a hand that extended into a thick wrist reached into the room from the corridor.

"I'll take that," Remo said, coming into view.

He pulled the ri?e from Kluge's hands, taking it in his own. Holding the barrel in one hand and the stock in the other, Remo brought the middle of the gun down across one knee. The ri?e snapped obediently in two neat halves. Remo tossed them away.

"All clear," Remo called behind him.

As Remo ambled into the room, Smith came in from the corridor in the company of Chiun. Smith immediately spied the computer that Schatz had had moved up on the stage after the death of Fritz. Leaving the others, he hurried up the steps, sliding in before the screen.

On the ?oor Kluge suppressed his surprise at seeing for the ?rst time the man he knew to be the Master of Sinanju. When he saw Adolf Kluge, Chiun's eyes narrowed.

"You do this?" Remo asked, nodding to the bodies lying around the room."I did what was necessary," Kluge said. With dif?culty he pulled his attention away from Chiun. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his bleeding arm.

"You're English," Remo said, noting Kluge's accent.

The head of IV nodded in response. "And you are American presumably," Kluge said.

"That's the ?rst thing about me everyone seems to notice lately."

"I presume the palace is secure?"

"It looks that way," Remo told Kluge. "There were only a couple of guys outside and a couple more inside. It looks like everyone else bugged out before we got here."