“So far, the odds are looking pretty good for the aliens,” Remo said. The Master of Sinanju and Master Emeritus had returned to Folcroft to brief Smith on their findings, which were meager. “No trace of any kind of an explosive,” said Remo. “Didn’t see any poop in the water, either. Well, no more than usual. I mean, the river does flow out of Lake Michigan.”
Smith pursed his lips and steepled his fingers. “The Mississippi flows out of Minnesota,” he said. “Lake Michigan empties into the Des Plaines River, which leads to the Illinois River, which empties into the Mississippi River several hundred miles south of the Black Hawk Bridge crossing.”
“Backflush?” Remo asked hopefully.
Smith chose not to reply. “The media reports favor the algae theory,” he said, changing the subject. “And the Environmental Protection Agency analysis reports confirm this,” he added, picking up a sheaf of papers from his desk as a visual aid.
“Bulldooky! Smitty, something definitely busted up the support pylons on London Bridge, but I’m telling you, the debris was just as strong as concrete is supposed to be,” Remo said. He tossed over the small chunk of concrete he had pocketed from the collapse site. “Run your own analysis!”
Smith took up the chunk, and wrapped his brittle fingers around it.
Dust poured between his fingers onto the desk.
Remo cut his eyes at Chiun. “Okay, when did you start teaching Smitty Sinanju on the side?”
“I will send this off for analysis, as you suggested,” Smith said, brushing the concrete crumbs from his palms. “If this is a natural event, there’s no need for CURE’s involvement. All we know for now is that the concrete broke apart and caused the bridge to fall.”
“This is not necessarily the case,” Chiun piped up. “There remains the possibility that the bridge came apart first, and the falling pieces broke the artificial stone beneath it.”
“You’re saying the concrete was busted up because the bridge fell on it?” Remo rolled his eyes. “The gray aliens sound more likely.”
“Green!” Chiun hissed. “And why is it so unlikely that the river crossing might have come apart on its own? It was built by whites, after all.”
“The castle of the strong man is as but a grass hut in a hurricane if that which anchors it is insecure,” Remo quoted in Korean.
Chiun’s eyes widened just a bit from their natural slits of vellum. “He does listen,” he exclaimed brightly. “Nonetheless, you cannot prove that one event happened before the other.”
“I have to agree with Remo, Master Chiun,” Smith said. “It’s unlikely something attacked the bridge from the top down without anyone seeing anything.”
“Unless it was the nutty professor’s flying saucer hitting it with a ray gun.”
Before Smith could reply, a chirping tone emitted from Remo’s pocket. His steel gray eyes grew hard and his lips pressed into an expression that slipped all they way from their natural state of having sucked a lemon to one of an intake of pure alum. “That is a classified number, Remo,” he said coldly.
“Probably just a telemarketer,” Remo said. “I stayed in a resort I don’t remember and qualify for a free trip. Either that, or it’s important information on lowering my credit card interest rates.” He pulled out the phone and looked at the number, then glared at Chiun. “Or it could be a blonde Internet heart-throb,” he said. Remo tapped the answer button. “Hello, Ted.”
“Hey, Remo. It’s Ted,” said Ted. “Oh wait. How did you know it was me?”
“Caller ID,” Remo said, staring daggers at Chiun, who smiled beatifically as he pretended to make a fuss over the sleeves of his kimono. Smith remained resolutely silent, but his expression spoke volumes.
“Oh! Right,” he laughed. He awkwardly struggled for words while Remo waited for him to invite him to the prom. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that Hilda found some weird algae at that bridge wreck. Looks like that was the real culprit.”
Across the connection at a volume only Remo and Chiun could make out, Hilda murmured, “It’s not the algae.” Chiun smiled broadly and nodded.
“It’s not the algae?” Remo asked into the phone.
“No, no,” Ted replied. “I said it is algae. The sample is full of it.”
Smith mouthed. “What is he saying?”
“He said you’re full of it,” Remo whispered, covering the receiver with his hand.
Again, a little louder, they heard Hilda meekly counter, “It’s not the algae.”
“I’m getting mixed signals here,” Remo said.
“Sorry,” Ted said. “I’m a little nervous. I really called to see if you and I might, you know, go out sometime and —”
Chiun held up a finger. “And now,” he whispered.
“It's not the fucking algae!” Hilda shouted, this time loud enough for even Smith to overhear.
“The mouse has found her roar,” Chiun with pride.
Smith drew a finger quickly across his neck.
“What was that? You’re breaking up.” Remo crushed the phone in his grip, broken pieces falling to the ground.
“Now that is what it looks like when something is broken apart,” Chiun said, indicating the bits of plastic and copper.
“I will issue you a new phone,” Smith said. “Meanwhile, I presume you can plug this hole?”
“I think that’s what Ted’s hoping for,” Remo said. “He’s not a risk. He’s just looking for love in all the wrong places.”
“We cannot be sure.”
“Smitty, I’m just a cute butt to him.”
“And merely a butt to the rest of us, heh heh,” Chiun said gleefully.
Smith scowled. “Fix it.”
“Fine,” Remo relented. “But maybe you can find it somewhere in that piece of flint you call a heart to check on something. The deputy at Black Hawk is working a missing persons case, a lineman who was fixing stuff on site before it all fell down. It could be related, or it could be nothing.”
Smith’s fingers tapped away at the keyboard hidden under his desktop. “None of the Iowa utilities are reporting any absenteeism, and no one has filed a report on any missing males.” He made a few more taps, a concerned look crossing his face. “But this is troubling,” he said. He looked up at Remo. “According to all the latest surveys, there are no utility lines of any kind hanging or buried at the site of the Black Hawk bridge.”
Remo gave a low whistle. “Sounds like a suspect to me,” he said.
“I still think the cause is environmental,” said Smith. “But we won’t rule anything out just yet. I’ll see what else might be found on this mystery lineman. Meanwhile, you and Chiun —”
Smith’s thought was interrupted as he looked down at the display of the CURE computer monitor mounted beneath the clear surface of his desk.
“We’ve lost another bridge.”