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.Have you ever sent a videotape overnight with these people? You'll be lucky to see it within four days.And those three-day priority mail packages? Five to seven days minimum.Unless it's across town, then add an extra weekend.They don't even try to move mail across town on deadline.""Come on, Little Father.Let's look into this.""Take this in?" Tamayo asked, hefting her shoulder bag."My undercover camera's inside.Oh, and my concealed mike.Turn around while I unhook my audio bra rig.""Forget it," said Remo, brushing past her.There was a uniformed security guard at the door, and he took up a position blocking the lobby, hand on holstered side arm.He might have been guarding Fort Knox from his cold expression."We're on break," the guard said flatly."You're not," Remo responded.Page 63ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"I'm on duty.""How would you like to be on break?" asked Remo."I must ask you to turn around and wait until the doors open again," the guard said stonily."They're open.See," said Remo, whose hands blurred toward the guard's gun belt, took hold and spun him around.The gun belt broke at its weakest link-the buckle-and the guard went spinning down the steps to land in a sprawl.Remo shut the door in his face.Tamayo's face, too.She dropped to one knee and, ripping open her blouse like Clark Kent turning into Superman, said,"Look directly at my cleavage and tell me why this facility is on lock down."GIRDING HIS PLUMMY SKIRTS, the Master of Sinanju put on a stern face and said,"We must prepare ourselves to enter the domain of the disgruntled.""I don't think we're going to have any problem," said Remo.They pushed open the inner doors to the service area and were surprised at the color.The walls were all a very bright pink."Someone should talk to the painter," Remo grunted, looking around."Looks like Zsa Zsa Gabor's bedroom."The teller windows were empty.But from the back, the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee wafted, and they heard a low, musical humming floating out."Sounds like a coffee commercial filming back there," said Remo.Looking around, he spotted the door that said Manager."Let's see the guy in charge."The manager was working the telephone when they barged in.He looked up like a schoolboy who had been surprised picking his nose."Who are you?" he demanded."Postal inspector," said Remo."In a T-shirt?""Undercover.This is my partner, who's in deep cover."Chiun bowed, saying, "The Japanese display my picture in all of their postal offices."The manager sat back down."The PG send you?""Could be," said Remo, who had no idea who the PG was."I think I've got everything under control here.They're on emergency sanity-maintainance coffee break now.""They sounded pretty happy about it.""Were they.singing?""Sounded like humming to me.""My God.It works.I've got to see this."They followed the postal manager to the back room, where canvas mail sacks were stretched on old metal frames, mail sat in pink pigeonholes and the entire sorting staff of the Oklahoma city post office lounged about drinking coffee and singing Barry Manilow songs."They always this chipper?" asked Remo."It's the Prozac in the coffee," the manager confided."It kicked in like an adrenaline rush.""You spiked their coffee?""I did not.This is USPS-issue coffee rations, laid in for psychological contingencies on orders from the PG himself." He lowered his voice."Never thought I'd have to deploy it, though.""What's it doing to them?""Prozac raises the serotonin levels.""What's serotonin?" asked Remo."Some kind of soothing chemical produced in the brain, as I hear it.I'm exempt from drinking the stuff.Someone's gotta keep a clear head."Evidently they were overheard, because one of the postal workers started to improvise a little ditty."Serotonin, Serotonin, Dormez-vous, Dormez-vous?"The others joined in."Sonnez tes matines!Sonnez les matines!Mailman mood.Page 64ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlMailman mood."As they launched into their second chorus, Remo pulled out the blank FBI picture of Yusef Gamal and said, "We need you to fill in the blanks on this guy.""You got the hat right.In fact, it's perfect.""Thanks," Remo said dryly."What about the face?""Joe only worked here about a year, all told.I don't remember the color of his eyes.Not sure about his hair.He had a pretty ordinary mouth, too.""In other words, nada.""Well, he did have what you'd call a pronounced beak.Not like this one here, though.""Like a falcon or an eagle?" squeaked Chiun."More like a camel, actually.It wasn't sharp.It was more bulbous."From a sleeve of his kimono, the Master of Sinanju extracted a folded sheet of paper, unfolded it delicately and held it up to the postal manager's eyes."Such as this?" he asked."You know, I never noticed the resemblance before, but that's a right good one.Except for skin color.He was pretty white.""What's this?" asked Remo, stepping around.Chiun directed the fluttering sheet of colored paper toward him.It was a cigarette ad, Remo saw.He blinked.Then blinked again."He looked like Joe Camel?" Remo blurted."Yes.More or less.""What do you mean, more or less?""More the nose, less everything else.""You had a postal worker named Joe Camel who looked like the cigarette character Joe Camel, and when the FBI asked you and your people to describe him all you came up with was a cap?""The PG asked us to cooperate as narrowly as possible.""Let me ask you something.Did this Joe Camel look Middle Eastern or talk with an accent?""Sure, he talked funny.He was from New Jersey.They all talk funny out that way.""But did he look Middle Eastern?""No, he looked Jewish.But so do a lot of folks from Jersey.""Spoken like an Okie from Muskogee," said Remo."What happens when they find Camel?""Not my concern.They always find these canceled stamps with a gun in their mouths.My job is to keep the others from going berserk."Remo eyed the still-singing postal workers.They were doing a barbershop-quartet rendition of "Please, Mr
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