"Let me summon some help."

"We like to take care of our equipment ourselves," Cabrillo said.

"We just need some carts."

Ross nodded and turned to one of the caterers.

"This is the leader of the band," she said. "He needs to borrow a few of the carts you use to move the tables."

The man nodded and motioned to Cabrillo. "Right this way."

Mark Murphy stood on the bandstand and surveyed the surroundings.

Three large tents were erected, forming a Y with the band at the far end. The bandstand was slightly elevated from the ground, and to the rear the back of the tent had slits that opened to provide access.

Electrical cables to power their speakers and lights stretched out under the tent. He sat his guitar down and poked through the slit in the back.

Forty feet behind the rear of the tent was part of the wall that formed the boundary of the house. To the right side of the Y portion of the tent, some thirty yards away, was the rear wall of the mansion and the doors leading to the kitchens and inside. He began to walk the perimeter of the tent.

At the front, or top, of the Y were the entrances for the guests. In the opening between the legs of the Y there was a portable fountain and a small wooden platform that was currently empty. Murphy continued around the other side, examining the way the tents were fastened to the ground. There were large metal stakes on the edges with guy wires running farther out onto the lawn, where they were staked into the earth.

He stared up. Long metal poles, two per each section of the three separate tents, poked through the tops. He found a slit in the tent and walked over to one of the poles. The bases sat on plastic holders.

Murphy figured it wouldn't take much to bring it all down.

146.

Ho was making his way back to the mansion when he stopped in his tracks.

Several longhaired men were approaching the tent, but that didn't concern him. What did concern him was the lady that was following.

Ho pivoted on his heel and walked over.

"I'm Stanley Ho," he said, smiling. "I'm your host."

"I'm Candace," Julia Huxley said.

Ho's eyes were riveted on Huxley's ample a.s.sets. "I find this hard to believe," Ho said, "but I don't remember meeting you before."

"I'm with the band," Candace said, smiling wickedly. "At least I came with them."

"Performer?" Ho asked.

"In many ways," Candace said, smiling.

Ho was beginning to get the feeling that if he played his cards right, he might get lucky.

"I need to go inside and greet my guests," Ho said quickly as he saw Iselda approaching from the corner of his eye. "Perhaps we could talk later."

He turned and moved toward the back door of the mansion.

"Mr. Ho," Ross shouted after him, "I think we have the placement figured out."

"Just take care of it," Ho said over his shoulder.

Ross pa.s.sed by Huxley. "s.l.u.t," she whispered.

"Lesbian," Huxley replied.

MAXHANLEY WAS sitting in a leather chair in the command center of the Oregon.

"Okay, people," he said to the trio of operators that remained, "we're a go. Display from the tree," Hanley ordered.

The image from the tiny camera in the tree filled one of the screens in the control room. Hanley could see Cabrillo rolling a cart containing 147 several long speaker boxes across the lawn. Ross had just pa.s.sed Huxley and was now turning to go back toward the tent. Murphy popped out from the side of one of the tents. As if on cue, he turned to the tree and smiled.

"Larry," Hanley said, "all okay."

Larry King was the Corporation member hiding in the tree. He adjusted his sniper rifle and then pushed the tiny microphone over his voice box and answered.

"How's the picture, boss?"

"Looks good," Hanley said. "You holding up?"

King had been forced to take his position above the party sometime just after 3 a.m. He'd been in his perch over twelve hours already. There was a good chance he'd need to remain there almost that long again.

"I did six days once in Indonesia," King said. "This is a piece of cake."

"Have you dialed in your fields of fire?" Hanley asked, already knowing the answer.

"About a thousand times, boss," King said, swatting away a fly on his arm.

King was a U.S. Army-trained sniper. If Hanley gave the order, he could lob a dozen shots onto the grounds in about as long as it took to sneeze. Hanley hoped it wouldn't come down to that--but if one of the crew was in trouble and there was no other choice, King was the great equalizer.

"Stand by, Larry," Hanley said. "We'll call you if we need you."

"Affirmative," King said as he continued to scan the grounds through his scope.

"Try the inside of the tent," Hanley ordered.

An image filled the screen from a camera that was inserted in the body of Cabrillo's electric keyboard. The image was slightly off.

"Juan," Hanley said.

Cabrillo was pushing the cart around the side of the tent, but he could hear through his tiny earpiece.

148.

"You'll need to adjust your keyboard slightly to the right. We're

missing a little of the left side of the tent."

Cabrillo made a slight nod to confirm.

"Go to the van," Hanley ordered.

Another picture flicked onto a separate screen that was split in half.

The cameras had been attached to the van's folding mirrors. They were showing a pretty good view of most of the front of the house. Lincoln was removing a box from the back of the van.

"Frankie," Hanley said.

Franklin Lincoln moved out of the back of the van and stared into one of the rearview mirrors as if he were fixing his hair.

"Try to leave the van where it is," Hanley said. "You guys got lucky and placed it where we have a good field of view."

Lincoln made an okay sign at the mirror.

"Okay, men," Hanley said to the operators, "we're the eyes and ears, so be alert."

UH.

WINSTON SPENSER WALKED into the mansion, snagged a gla.s.s of champagne from a pa.s.sing waiter, and slurped down half of the flute before approaching the receiving line. Stanley Ho was beaming and shaking hands with each guest that pa.s.sed. Ahead of Spenser were an Australian couple who were just being greeted, and directly in front of him was the local Portuguese consular agent. Spenser waited patiently, finishing the first gla.s.s of champagne and summoning the waiter for another, then took his place in front of Ho.

"Winston," Ho said, smiling, "it's good to see you, but you're a little late--the insurance adjuster was already here."

"Sorry," Spenser said, "I was running late."

Spenser tried to keep moving along, but Ho reached out and took him by the arm.

"That's all right," Ho said. "It seems your timing is perfect."

Ho pointed to the staircase.150.

Spenser's stomach did a backflip. The Golden Buddha, strapped to a dolly like a patient in a mental ward, was descending the stairs, being helped down by the guards from Redman Security.

"I've decided to display my newest treasure," Ho said, "so all the guests can share in the glory. Don't worry, I'll let everyone who asks know who helped me handle the acquisition."

A thousand thoughts raced through Spenser's mind. None of them were good.

"Sir . . . ," Spenser began to say. But the line was moving along and Ho was already preparing to greet the next guest. "I don't think . . ."

"I'll talk to you when we are outside," Ho said quietly as he turned to shake a couple's hands.

AT THE REAR door," Hanley said, pointing to a screen.

He flipped a switch on the communication console, then spoke into a microphone.

"Juan, the Buddha is being wheeled outside."

On one of the screens, Cabrillo could be seen inside the tent checking the connection to his keyboard. He raised his head and made a signal that he understood. Ross walked over to the front of the tents as the Buddha was wheeled up, then supervised the placement near the fountain.

The target of all the planning and preparation was now in plain sight.

CHIEF INSPECTOR OF the Macau Constabulary Sung Rhe< watched="" the="" statue="" from="" his="" place="" on="" the="" lawn="" near="" the="" rear="" door="" of="" the="" mansion.="" rhee="" had="" known="" stanley="" ho="" since="" before="" he'd="" become="" wealthy.="" he="" was="" an="" acquaintance,="" not="" a="" friend.="" the="" first="" ship="" ho="" had="" owned,="" the="" start="" of="" his="" shipping="" fortune,="" had="" been="" a="" constant="" thorn="" in="" rhee's="">

151.

The chief inspector had been a mere detective at that time, a.s.signed to vice and smuggling, and he had become convinced Ho was moving drugs with the ship. Rhee had just never been able to catch him in the act. Ho's fortune had grown fast, and the chief inspector knew what that usually denoted--the problem was that as the shipowner's fortune had swelled, so had his power. Twice in the past decade Rhee had been ordered away from Ho's activities when he was close to ama.s.sing enough evidence to bring charges. Now Rhee was beginning to understand that as Ho legitimized his holdings, he probably never would pay the price for his past shady dealings.

Rhee had been invited to the party in an unofficial capacity--window dressing for the guests.

Like the mayor, the amba.s.sadors of various countries, and the minor royalty who were present, Rhee was here today to add to the theme of legitimacy Ho so desperately craved.

He was a prop--but that didn't make the police officer inside him take leave. He stared at the chunk of gold and tried to decide how, if it was up to him, he would steal it. Rhee stared around the grounds, trying to imagine an escape route. The wall surrounding the grounds almost insisted on a departure through the main gate. The fact that the object was being placed out in the open actually helped the security. It would almost certainly always be in view of someone. He glanced around again, then shook his head slightly.

Rhee concluded theft was not a problem and went inside for some shrimp puffs.

A DARK GREEN Mercedes-Benz limousine pulled up to the gate and the driver was waved through. Tom Reyes, the driver, swung around on the circular driveway and positioned the pa.s.senger door near the front door of the mansion. He then climbed out and opened the door to the rear compartment and helped the occupant out.

Once Crabtree was standing alongside the limousine, Reyes raced to152.

the front door and said to the butler, "This is Princess Aalborg of Denmark."

The butler stood aside as she swept into the foyer in a rustle of satin and lace, then walked toward Ho, who was now standing alone.

"Princess Aalborg," Reyes announced from two steps behind.

Ho bent over and lightly kissed the proffered hand, then raised his head and smiled. "I'm honored to have you visit my humble home."

"Charmed," Monica Crabtree said in a bizarre accent.

Ho snapped his fingers and a waiter instantly appeared. "May I offer you a libation?"

"Champagne with a strawberry would be nice," Crabtree said.

Ho motioned to the waiter, who scurried off.

"Jeeves," Crabtree said to the driver, "I'll be fine now--you may take your leave."

Reyes backed away a distance, then turned and walked toward the front door. Moving the limousine away from the front of the mansion, Reyes parked in a spot near the garage and climbed out. Then he walked around to the front of the limousine, tilted back his cap and lit a cigarette.

"Monica is safely inside," Hanley reported to Cabrillo.

TWILIGHT FELL OVER the grounds with a light breeze that brought the smell of the sea. A few miles away, at the staging area for the parade, the engines of the lead floats came to life. The marching band that was the first group to walk the route began to a.s.semble in orderly rows, awaiting the signal to begin. Macau began to settle in for the night, and in the high-rises in the city center and along the waterfront, lights began to flicker on. Out to sea, the navigation lights of the ships approaching port began to be visible, and the scattering of airplanes both inbound and outbound appeared as light specks in the distant sky-All of the guests had arrived and the front lawn of the mansion looked like a luxury car dealership. There were Jaguars and BMWs, *

153.

single Lamborghini, a pair of Ferraris. Twelve limousines, a lone armored Humvee and an old Rolls-Royce crowded the lawn. On the wall along the road, the security cameras swept back and forth, but no more cars approached and the guard tired of watching the monitor.

So no one noticed when a pair of motorcycles drove slowly past.