Golden Buddha Part 14

"Yes," Ho said, pausing at the door to his office to scan a card that unlocked the door. "From Brazil and hand fitted without nails or screws."

Ho opened the door and stepped aside.

"How lovely," Truitt said. He stared across the office to where the Golden Buddha sat. "But nowhere near as lovely as this."

Truitt walked over to the Buddha, followed by Ho.

"Magnificent," Truitt said easily. "May I touch it?"

"Please," Ho said.

The insurance adjuster was acting just as Ho had hoped. Equal parts respect and sublimation. There was a good chance the appraisal would 134 135.

be in his favor. If it was not to his liking, Ho was sure he could bully < the="" agent="" into="">

Truitt rubbed his hand over the face of Buddha, then stared into the jeweled eyes. "Might I ask some about the history?"

"He's from the thirteenth century and from Indochina," Ho said.

Truitt opened a small leather clutch he had been holding and removed a jeweler's eyepiece. He placed it over one eye and examined the stones. "Exquisite."

Ho watched as the adjuster examined the Buddha from head to toe.

The man seemed competent, so he decided to ask him about the secret storage compartment. "I had a historian dig into it a little and he mentioned that some of these pieces contained an inner chamber."

"The part of Buddha where there is no ego," Truitt said quickly, "the void."

"Then you are familiar with the idea?" Ho said.

"Oh, yes," Truitt said. He was glad the Corporation had seen fit to provide him with a report on ancient Asian art. The "void" had been part of the study.

"I can't seem to find one on this piece."

"Let's look closer," Truitt said.

The two men spent the next twenty minutes carefully examining the object, but no secret compartment was found. Truitt decided to use the revelation to his favor.

"Shall we sit for a bit?" he asked Ho.

The men took seats around Ho's desk.

"What value do you have in mind," Truitt said, "that you would like our company to underwrite?"

"I was thinking in the neighborhood of two hundred million," Ho said.

"That's an expensive neighborhood," Truitt said, smiling.

Leaning forward, he spilled the contents of his leather clutch on the floor. Scooping down to pick up the contents, he attached a small bug to the bottom of Ho's desk.

"Silly me," he said after the bug was attached and the bag placed back on his lap.

"What do you think is the value?" Ho asked.

"The absence of the secret compartment actually adds to the rarity of the piece," Truitt lied. "It places the age at least a few decades before what I had estimated. The voids date from the twelfth century and later.

You may have something here that defies accurate pricing."

Ho smiled his feral smile. He loved it when he bested someone in a deal, and he was beginning to think he'd outsmarted some of the wisest art collectors in the world. At first, the $200 million he'd paid had seemed like a king's ransom--now it was looking like he'd bought cheap.

"What are you saying?" he asked.

"I could easily insure it for twice what you are seeking," Truitt said, "but of course the premiums would reflect the increased value."

This was going better than Truitt could have hoped--greed had removed Ho's doubt in his ident.i.ty. He had come a stranger, but now he was a friend bearing gifts. Cons only work when the mark wants to believe. Ho wanted to believe.

"But. . . ," Ho said slowly, "if I insured it for more, banks would loan on the increased value."

"Yes," Truitt said, "banks tend to follow our lead."

Ho nodded slowly. "Why don't you figure the premiums on four hundred million."

"I would, of course, need to contact our main office for the quotes,"

Truitt said, "but I can easily attest to the value."

Ho sat back in his chair. The realization that he owned a truly priceless work of art was sinking into his soul. Now his ego needed stroking. A stroking that only other rich people could give him.

"I'm having a party today," he said.

"I saw the preparations," Truitt said, smiling.

"You, of course, are invited," Ho said, "but I was thinking of displaying the artifact to my guests. I would feel more comfortable if I had J 136.

a rider covering the piece until I receive the actual quote. Just something to cover today."

"You are, of course, thinking of displaying it downstairs," Truitt said.

Ho wasn't, but he was now.

"Yes," Ho said. "Perhaps out on the grounds?"

Truitt nodded. "Let me make a quick call."

Ho pointed to his telephone, but Truitt whipped out a cell phone and hit the speed dial.

"Samuelson here."

"Richard, you're a magnificent b.a.s.t.a.r.d," the voice said. "We have been listening for the last few minutes over the bug. Nice work."

"I need a quote on a one-day rider to Mr. Ho's policy to cover a piece of art valued at four hundred million until we can come up with an accurate figure for long-term coverage."

"La de dah, de dah. All right then," the operator on the Oregon said, "let me make up a number for you. How about twenty thousand dollars? Or whatever you decide. But I'd take the fee in cash if I was you. Then we can have a party after this is over."

"I see," Truitt said, nodding, "so we will require increased security.

Hold on a minute."

Truitt placed his hand over the telephone.

Back on the Oregon, the operator turned to Hanley.

"Truitt's red-hot today," he said. "I had not even thought of that angle."

Ho was waiting for the adjuster to speak.

"The fee for the rider for the day will be eighteen thousand five hundred U.S. But my company is insisting on increased security. Luckily, we have a local firm we use--my office will contact them and have some men out here within the hour, if that's okay with you."

"Does the fee include the security detail?" Ho asked.

Truitt thought for a second, but decided not to push.

I.

137.

"The fee includes three security guards, but we will want the fee in cash," Truitt said seriously.

Ho stood up and walked over to his safe. "Sounds reasonable," he said.

Truitt smiled--the offer was anything but reasonable, but Ho had no way to know that.

"I'll tell them," Truitt said.

Ho began spinning the dial to his safe.

"We have an agreement," he said to the operator on the Oregon, "but we'll need the security people here as soon as possible."

"d.a.m.n, you're good," the operator said.

"Yes, I am," Truitt said quietly, then disconnected.

Ho returned with two wrapped stacks of dollars. Each strip read $10,000. Removing fifteen of the hundred-dollar bills from one of the stacks, he handed Truitt the rest. Sliding the stacks of money into his leather clutch, he smiled at Ho.

"Do you have a sheet of paper?"

"What for?" Ho asked.

"I need to write you a receipt," Truitt said.

HANLEY REACHED FOR the telephone and dialed Cabrillo. "d.i.c.k Truitt just got us three more men inside the compound, acting as security guards."

"Excellent," Cabrillo said, "and there was no problem with the appraisal?"

"He handled it like the pro he is," Hanley said.

"Have we got security guard uniforms in the Magic Shop?"

"Absolutely," Hanley said. "I'll just call Nixon and have him blast off a jazzy patch on the embroidery machine."

"Get on it," Cabrillo said quickly, "so we can extract Truitt."

"Truitt's been invited to the party," Hanley said, "unless you want Oie to order him out."

"Have him wait until the fake security team arrives," Cabrillo said.

"That way he can verify their ident.i.ty to Ho. Then have him stick around--I have another job for him."

"Done," Hanley said.

Cabrillo disconnected and Hanley dialed the Magic Shop.

"Kevin," he said, "I need three security guard uniforms with the appropriate badges."

"Name?"

Hanley thought for a moment before answering.

"Make them Redman Security Services."

"As in Redford and Newman?"

"You got it," Hanley said, "The Sting."

"It will take me twenty minutes or so to make the badges," Nixon said, "but send the three operatives down right away. I can fit the uniforms while the patches are forming."

"They will be there shortly," Hanley said in closing.

Hanley glanced at a clipboard in the control room. Most of the Corporation stockholders were already a.s.signed to functions of operations, extraction or backup. His remaining choices were an a.s.sistant chef, Rick Barrett; a propulsion engineer named Sam Pryor; and a middle-aged man who worked in the armory, Gunther Reinholt. None had ever worked on the operations end. But beggars can't be choosers "Get me Reinholt, Pryor and Barrett," Hanley said to one of the communications operators, "and have them meet me in the Magic Shop."

The operator began paging the men.

DON'T WORRY," MURPHY said to Halpert, "it just smells like marijuana."

Murphy was waving what looked like an incense stick near the members of the band when Cabrillo walked into the conference room-"Smells like a Grateful Dead concert in here," he said.

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Murphy walked closer and let the smoke waft over the chairman.