a a- *

197.

"Good luck, Mr. Chairman," Hanley said.

"Cabrillo out."

INSIDE THE CHEVROLET SUV, Juan Cabrillo adjusted his radio and called the Oregon. "Where are we at, Max?"

There was a slight lag as the scrambled signal was rearranged and delivered.

"The Ross team took a casualty," Hanley said. "He's being worked on in the clinic."

"Report to me as soon as you know more," Cabrillo said. "What else?"

"The temple team has made it to the catacombs, as planned."

"I saw the smoke," Cabrillo said. "No injuries?"

"None," Hanley said. "So far so good. They are initiating the extraction."

"What about the others?"

"Most everyone staying in town has reported in," Hanley said.

"King made it back to the boat and is going to direct offensive actions until Murphy returns."

"Target three?"

"The 737 landed a few moments ago," Hanley reported. "They should be going through customs as we speak."

"Our man is still with them?"

"Awaiting instructions."

"What else?"

"The second leg of the journey is almost ready to activate," Hanley said. "The way it looks so far, we can deliver the package on time."

"Good," Cabrillo said. "We're almost at the airport."

Hanley stared at the flashing blip on one of the monitors. "I've gol you made, Juan."

"Now all I have to do is collect on our side deal," Cabrillo said, "and we can be on our way."

MEADOWS, JONES AND Hornsby looked like three tourists on an Arizona mine tour.

They were wearing silver hard hats made from pressed metal, with small battery-operated lamps that spewed beams of light from the front.

Hornsby was holding a blueprint that showed the underground drainage systems. The map looked like the tentacles of an octopus. Jones stared overhead as the first drops of water from the rain above filtered down through an aged tile drainpipe in the wall.

"Did the operations plans factor in possible rain?" he asked.

"As long as there isn't a prolonged shower," Hornsby noted, "we should be okay."

"What if there is?" Jones asked.

"That's not good," Hornsby admitted.

"So we should get moving," Meadows said.

"Exactly," Hornsby said. "But let's not worry too much--the plan states we can have six hours or so of continuous rain before the drains reach chest-high level."

"We can be out of here by then," Jones said.

"That's the plan," Hornsby agreed.

The Golden Buddha was resting on the wooden ramp. When Hornsby had entered the storm drain through a side tunnel earlier that evening, he had brought along a bag that contained four rubber-tired wheels that attached to the ramp. It was a crude arrangement, but it would allow the three men to wheel the heavy object along the tunnels.

A pair of olive drab ditty bags was atop the crate containing the Golden Buddha; these contained emergency supplies and weapons. The entire affair stood at nearly chest height.

"Here's where I came in," Hornsby said. "It's a shame we can't leave the same way--it's only about two hundred yards to the grate.

198.

199.

The problem is, when we emerge, we're right in the middle of town and the police should be everywhere by now."

Meadows looked to where Hornsby's finger was pointing. "So which way did the control room route us?"

Hornsby traced the route with his finger.

"That's a long way," Jones noted.

"A couple of miles," Hornsby agreed. "But we come out in a secluded spot alongside the Inner Port, where we can be extracted."

Meadows wiped the edge of his hard hat to dispel a few drops of water, then walked around behind the Golden Buddha. "You've got the map, Horn Dog," he said. "Why don't you pull the front strap and navigate. Me and Jonesy will push from the rear."

Slowly, the three men began trudging along the storm sewer. Outside, the rain grew in intensity. Within the hour, it was a full-fledged monsoon.

LINDA ROSS WALKED into the Oregon's control room. Max Hanley was pouring a cup of coffee from a pot on a side table. His face was lined with tension and Ross could see he was stressed.

"Reinholt's rebounding," she said quietly. "It looked worse than it was. If we keep any infections at bay, he should pull through."

"Will there be any lasting damage?" Hanley asked as he motioned to the coffee and Ross walked over and poured a cup.

"The top of his ear is gone," Ross said. "He'll need plastic surgery to make that right."

"How's his att.i.tude?"

"He came out of the stupor once and asked where he was," Ross said. "When I told him he was on the Oregon, he seemed happy."

"Propulsion engineers always seem more comfortable on board ship," Hanley said.

"How's the rest of the operation going?" Ross asked.

"The actual Golden Buddha is currently in an underground storm i sewer," Hanley said, pointing to a monitor. "That team is making its way to the waterfront."

"I thought the Buddha was lifted out by helicopter," Ross said.

"That was the fake," Hanley said.

"But. . .," Ross started to say.

"It was on a need-to-know basis," Hanley said. "Remember when the chairman arrived by seaplane?"

"Sure," Ross said. "When we were under way at sea."

"He had just returned from the art auction where the icon was sold.

The Corporation jumped in then--we arranged the shipment to Macau.

Gunderson was the pilot. Then a couple of our men met the plane with an armored car--we thought we'd just grab it then. The art dealer had other plans, however. He was planning to screw the owner with a fake, so we just went along with his plan, knowing all the while where the true artifact was hiding."

"So all the efforts at the party were a facade?"

"It was designed to throw off the authorities and confuse the picture,"

Hanley said. "Meanwhile, if all goes well, Cabrillo will complete the art dealer's sale and the Corporation will pocket the proceeds."

"So Reinholt was shot for no reason," Ross said.

"There were a hundred million reasons Reinholt was wounded,"

Hanley said. "A hundred million and one, if you count the fact that we confused the Macau police and made the art dealer the prime suspect."

"So the art dealer is the patsy," Ross said.

"He's our Oswald," Hanley agreed.

"Diabolical," said Ross.

"It's not over yet," Hanley said quietly. "We still need the payoff.

And to get out of here."

I.

N BEIJING, THE foreign secretary, the head of the Chinese army and President Hu Jintao were staring at satellite photographs.

"As of yesterday," the foreign secretary said, "Novosibirsk in Siberia200 .

is the busiest airport in the world. The Russians are ferrying in military 1 supplies at an alarming rate. Cargo planes are landing at the rate of one every few minutes."

Hu Jintao was examining a photograph with a magnifying gla.s.s.

"Tanks, personnel carriers, attack helicopters are already on the ground."

The head of the Chinese army handed Jintao a photograph. "The amount of supplies already on the ground can support nearly forty thousand ground troops, and more is arriving every minute."

"I've already contacted Legchog Zhuren in Tibet," Jintao said.

"He's mobilized his forces and they are starting toward the northern border."

"How many men are under his control?" the foreign secretary asked.

"He has twenty thousand combat and support troops in Tibet," the head of the Chinese army answered.

"Then it's already two to one," the foreign secretary noted.

Jintao pushed the photographs aside. "To maintain control inside Tibet, we have sponsored ma.s.s immigration from the other regions of China over the years. Zhuren has mobilized the Chinese citizens in Tibet and drafted them into the army. That gives us nearly twenty thousand more that are of the right age to serve. Some have already left Lhasa for the march north--we are trying to train them as they travel."

"The Russians have crack troops," the head of the Chinese army said. "Our recently recruited farmers and shopkeepers will be wiped out."

"That's if the Russians cross the border," the foreign secretary noted. "They are still claiming through diplomatic channels that this is just an exercise."

"That's a d.a.m.n big exercise," Jintao said quietly.

He sat back in his chair to think. The last thing he wanted was to face off with the Russians--but he could not back down from the threat, either.

L.

THE BOEING 737 was still undergoing customs inspection when Cabrillo and the others arrived at their rented hangar. Spenser had started to come out of his stupor a few minutes before. Adams opened the rear door of the white SUV, then waved smelling salts under his nose. Spenser shook his head several times, then cracked open his eyes.

Adams helped him to his feet just outside the door of the Chevrolet.

Spenser stood on the floor of the hangar on wobbly legs and tried to remember what had happened.

"Come here," Adams said, leading him over to a chair alongside a Workbench and seating him.

With the help of Kevin Nixon, Cabrillo was erecting the folding ramp to unload the fake speaker case holding the faux Buddha. Nixon had arrived at the hangar several hours earlier and had been busy ever since.

"Is everything ready?" Cabrillo asked.

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