Remo grunted and turned the rented car away from the waterfront, back toward their motel in Jersey City. He dropped Chiun off at their rooms, then drove back to the honky-tonk block in Bay City where the Rocco Nobile Improvement Association was headquartered.

Remo parked and walked casually up the street, turning into the doorway of the Roaring Twenties Lounge. One portion of its front window was un-painted, in the form of a heart. Inside the cutout were fly-specked pictures of female impersonators who appeared in the club's show every Saturday night. The pictures were yellowed with age and the corners were pulling away from the red velvet back on which they had been taped.

Inside, Remo stepped to the dark bar and ordered a Scotch on the rocks with a glass of water side.

He paid a dollar fifty from a five-dollar bill and when he got his change, tried to sip the water. The water in Bay City came from the Jersey City water system, pumped through century-old pipes that leaked out water and sucked up dirt. The water tasted as if it had been filtered through used kitty litter.

Remo smelled it and only pretended to sip it.

A young woman with a platinum wig and a short tight red dress slid onto the stool next to him.

"Buy a girl a drink?" she asked.

"Why? Don't you have any money?" Remo turned to look at her, his dark eyes drilling into hers. She leaned closer to him on her chair.

"I'll buy you one," she said. She waved at the bartender and fished a twenty-dollar bill from her sequined red handbag.

The bartender stood in front of them.

"Usual?" he asked the blonde. She nodded. "And you?" he asked Remo.

"Got any bottled water?" Remo asked.

"No."

"I'll coast with this one," Remo said. The bartender brought back a light tan mixture in a glass, put it in front of the blonde and reached for Remo's money.

"No," Remo said. "She's buying."

"That right, Jonelle?" the bartender said.

"Right, right," the blonde said.

The bartender glared at Remo, then said to the girl, "All right. This one's on the house."

Jonelle put her left hand on her drink and her right hand on Remo's thigh. He took the hand off his thigh and put it back on her own leg.

"How's business?" he asked.

"So-so."

"I would have said this town was the pits for a working girl," Remo said. "Who could afford you?"

"I was hoping you could," Jonelle said.

"Maybe we can work something out," Remo said. He pretended to sip his water and put his left hand onto the base of her neck. Next to the long muscle running down the right side of her neck, he found a bunch of nerves and tapped on them rapidly with his fingertips.

"Ooooooh," she said. "What are you doing?"

"Nice name, Jonelle," he said.

"Not my real name," the girl said. "Ooooooh," she exclaimed again. Her breath was coming faster.

"No?" Remo said. "I'm surprised. You look like a Jonelle I used to know. You were telling me about business."

"Getting better the last few weeks," she said. "More people in town. Maybe the new mayor's got something to do with it."

"The mayor have a piece of you?" Remo asked.

"Ooooooh. I don't know. My boyfriend is kind of close to him."

"For boyfriend, read pimp?" Remo asked.

"Ooooooh. You might say that."

Remo transferred his hand to the left side of her neck. He felt her throat tingle as if she were being massaged with a trickle charge of electricity.

"Who's your boyfriend?" Remo asked.

A heavy hand fell over his hand. Jonelle winced as the hand squeezed. Remo turned to see a large man with bushy red hair and an open-necked sports shirt standing behind them.

"I am," the man said. He tried to squeeze harder with his hand, but he found his hand off the girl's neck and back at his side.

Jonelle got up from the bar and walked quickly away.

"Any more questions?" the pimp asked Remo.

"Yeah," Remo said. "You ever drink this water?"

"What kinda question is that?" the pimp asked.

"Never mind," Remo said. "I'll try something easier. Do you pay off the mayor for protection?"

"I think that's one question too many, pal," the big man said.

"And one answer too few," Remo said. He reached out and took the pimp's right wrist in his left hand and dragged him to the bar. The pain felt like a saw cutting through his flesh and bone and the pimp gasped and allowed himself to be placed on the stool. "That's easy," Remo said in his ear. "Smile. People are watching us."

The pimp looked around and forced an agonized smile toward the other end of the bar. He looked back when Remo tightened the hold on his wrist.

"Question by me: Do you pay the mayor for protection? Answer by you: I think that's one question too many, pal. Now, we try again. Do you pay the mayor for protection?" Remo squeezed to signal the end of the question.

"Yes, yes, yes," the pimp gasped.

"Do all the pimps?"

"If they want to keep operating."

Remo released the man's wrist. "Thank you and good day," he said.

Before leaving the bar, he picked up Jonelle's change and carried it to the booth at the end of the bar where she was sitting. He put a fresh hundred dollar bill on top of it before giving it back to her. She looked at the money, then up at him.

"Some other time?" she said.

"Count on it," Remo said.

Back at his hotel room, Remo called Smith.

"I'm in Bay City," he said.

"And?" Smith asked.

"The mob's coming in," Remo said. "This new mayor, Rocco something, looks like he's giving the town away to the goons."

"I see," Smith said blandly.

Remo was surprised at Smith's lack of reaction.

"Yeah. It looks like he's getting a rake-off on the numbers and he's got a piece of the hooker action in town. And the joint is crawling with guys that look like they belong in a laundry at San Quentin."

"Good," said Smith.

"Good?" Remo said. "What's good? You want me to hit this Rocco what's-his-face?"

"No," Smith said quickly. "No. Don't do that. Leave things alone. You and Chiun should just go on vacation. You've been working hard lately."

"Wait a minute," Remo said. "You're telling us to go on vacation because we've been working hard?"

"Forget I said that," Smith said. "But you might as well go away for a few days until I need you."

"Thank you, Smitty. I'm almost ready to believe you're human."

"Don't get carried away," Smith said. "And going on vacation doesn't mean that you have to try to spend all the government's money in one day."

After Remo hung up, he looked at Chiun, who was staring through the motel window at the large backup of rush hour traffic along the Jersey City highway.

"I don't understand Smitty," Remo said.

"What is to understand? The man is a lunatic. He was always a lunatic," Chiun said. "He wants us to go away?"

"On vacation."

Chiun shook his head. The small white puffs of hair at his temples shook gently.

"No," Chiun said. "That is what he said. But what he wants is for us merely to leave this place."

"I don't need much encouragement," Remo said.

Chiun looked up, his face suddenly exuberant "They say..."

"I know. They say Persia is nice this time of year and the melons are in full bloom or whatever melons are full of. Well, forget it. We're not going to Persia."

"Where are we going?" Chiun asked.

"We're going fishing," Remo said.

"Pfaaaaah," said Chiun.