“The actual Golden Buddha is currently in an underground storm 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 façade?”

“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.”

IN 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 Siberia is the busiest airport in the world. The Russians are ferrying in military 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 glass. “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 mass 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 damn 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.

24

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.

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