Golden Buddha (Oregon Files 1)

“Then you need to come here and take delivery,” Spenser said.

“Where’s here?”

“Macau,” Spenser said.

The software billionaire stared at a calendar on his desk. “I’ll be there the evening of Good Friday.”

“I’ll want cash or bearer bonds then,” Spenser said. “No more bank transfer.”

“Fair enough, but don’t try anything, I’m bringing reinforcements.”

“You bring the money,” Spenser said, “and you get the Buddha.”

The billionaire disconnected and Spenser sat quietly for a moment.

He didn’t have long to go.

“MONICA’S a guest,” Cabrillo said as he glanced at the sheet of notes. “For this operation, she’s a minor member of the Danish royal family.”

“It’s all so common,” Crabtree said with a Scandinavian accent.

“You’ll need to fake a speech impediment with that accent,” Hanley said. “Stop by the Magic Shop and we’ll make you a mouth guard that will add a lisp.”

“Great,” Crabtree said, “I get to play a lisping lady-in-waiting.”

“It could be worse,” Cabrillo said. “Linda’s replacing the chain-smoking Portuguese party planner, Iselda.”

“Excellent,” Linda Ross said, laughing. “I finally quit smoking a few years ago and now the Corporation is going to get me hooked again.”

“By the way,” Hanley said, “we think Iselda also practices an alternative lifestyle.”

“So I’m a chain-smoking Portuguese lesbian party planner,” Ross said. “At least it’s not as bad as when I was a German transsexual dominatrix.”

“I remember that,” Murphy said. “You looked like Madeline Kahn in that Mel Brooks film.”

“I remember you being kind of turned on,” Ross said.

“We were going to use Julia, but we couldn’t, for the obvious reason,” Cabrillo noted.

Julia Huxley, the Oregon’s medical officer, grinned. “I always knew growing up that these big boobs would pay off.”

“You’d just better perfect your Pamela Anderson-Lee-whoever look,” Hanley said.

“I get to play a slut?” Huxley said happily.

“Girlfriend of one of the band members,” Cabrillo noted.

“Same thing,” Huxley said eagerly. “Can Max do me some fake tattoos?”

“Be glad to,” Hanley said. “We might even fake some piercings, if you like.”

“And now to the band,” Cabrillo said. “I’m playing keyboards—a lot of songs don’t feature keyboards, so that will give me time to sneak away. Murphy’s lead guitar, Kasim is our drummer, and the soul man Franklin is on bass.”

“Oh, yeah,” Lincoln said. “The pulsing beat runs through me.”

“And the singer?” Huxley asked.

“That would be Mr. Halpert,” Cabrillo said.