Golden Buddha (Oregon Files 1)

“Who?” the sergeant asked.

“I don’t know who,” Po said, “but I intend to find out.”

Po waved the sergeant away, then walked over to Rhee and motioned for him to move a few feet away so they could talk in private. Once he explained what the sergeant had told him, Rhee had only one thing to say.

“Seal the port,” Rhee said. “No one in or out.”

AS soon as Kasim helped Meadows and Jones aboard the Zodiac, Murphy slit the rubber raft with a knife. The raft drifted away and began to sink. At the same time, Seng and Huxley helped Hornsby aboard and the three of them wrestled the Golden Buddha aboard their Zodiac. Murphy idled his boat close just as they had finished stowing the golden icon amidships.

“I just spoke to Hanley,” he said to Seng. “The Oregon is almost to the outer buoy. We are supposed to rendezvous with them in open water.”

Kasim raised his hand for quiet as the radio barked. He listened intently over his earpiece.

“Got it,” he said.

“That was the Oregon again,” he said. “They just intercepted a transmission from the police to the port authorities. They have ordered the port sealed—no one in or out. The police and port authority boats have been given orders to fire on any craft that refuses to comply.”

“Shh…,” Seng said.

The sound of a ship under power came across the water.

“They’re coming,” Seng said.

CAPTAIN Smith walked the pilot to the ladder leading down and bid him farewell. The pilot climbed down the ladder, then stepped across to the pilot boat, which quickly backed away from the Oregon. Smith watched the pilot boat accelerate away into the rain.

The pilot boat was still visible when it began to slow and turn.

Cabrillo reached for a tiny radio at his belt and flicked it on. “Max,” he said quickly, “what’s happening?”

“The authorities have ordered the port sealed,” Hanley said. “The pilot’s been ordered to bring us back to port.”

Cabrillo sprinted across the deck as he spoke. “Full steam ahead,” he shouted. “I’ll be in the control room in a few minutes.”

RHEE was in his office. The port’s night manager was on the other end of the phone line.

“They won’t stop?” he asked.

“The pilot boat can’t reach them,” the port manager noted. “The pilot that guided them out mentioned that the vessel was in terrible shape—maybe their radios are faulty.”

“Have the pilot boat outrun them and deliver the message in person.”

“I already ordered that,” the manager said in exasperation. “But the ship keeps gaining speed—the pilot boat can’t seem to catch up with her.”

“I thought you said the ship was a rust bucket,” Rhee said.

“She’s a fast rust bucket,” the manager noted. “Our pilot boats can do over thirty knots.”

“Damn,” Rhee said. “How long until the ship reaches international waters?”

“Not long,” the manager admitted.

“Get me the navy,” Rhee shouted to Po, who reached for another telephone.

“What do you want us to do?” the port manager asked.

“Nothing,” Rhee said. “You’ve already done enough.”

He slammed down the telephone and took the one in Po’s hand. The second in command of the Chinese navy detachment in Macau was on the line.