Golden Buddha Part 18

"It's something I need to show you, not tell you," Candace purred, "but it takes some time. Once the band starts the next set and my boyfriend is busy, I'd feel a lot safer."

"Safer is good," Ho said.

INSIDE THE TENT, the waiters were clearing away the appetizers.

Then they began to pour the punch from crystal pitchers into small gla.s.s cups at each setting. Most of the guests had returned to their seats by the time Ho walked through the center of the tent toward the stage.

Snagging a cup of punch from a pa.s.sing waiter, he continued toward the stage.

Mark Murphy was setting the last of the charges around the perimeter of the grounds and tent. He pocketed a small remote trigger, then walked around to the rear of the stage. Juan Cabrillo was standing off to one side of the stage, staring at the crowd. Crabtree had her large purse on the floor next to her and she moved her foot to make sure it was at her feet. Kasim, Lincoln and Halpert stood off to one side, awaiting their cues. At the front of the tent, the trio from Redman Security paced nervously.

Ho walked over to Cabrillo. "Is the P.A. system on?"

"Just a second," Cabrillo said as he flicked a switch. "Okay, sir."

Ho tapped the microphone to see that it was working.

THE MONK WALKED out from the dining room, then stopped in his tracks. There was a banner with Arabic writing stretched across the alcove where the Golden Buddha had been placed--but the ma.s.sive golden icon was nowhere to be seen. He raced back to the dining room to alert the others. A dozen monks in yellow robes entered160.

the main temple. After appraising the situation, the head of the monks walked into the office and lifted up the telephone.

"Why don't they make dollies with brakes?" one of the motorcyclists said as he dug in his heels to slow the descent down the hill outside the temple.

The other man was in front of the dolly, trying to slow Buddha down, but the loose soil was not allowing him much purchase and he was sliding downhill fast.

"Drop it down and dig in the rear," he whispered.

With more of a slide than a controlled descent, they reached the bottom of the hill. Once they had regained control of the dolly, they quickly wheeled it over to the motorcycle sidecar and cut the straps.

The man at the front lowered the door on the sidecar.

"Let's get him in," he said.

At just that instant, a gong on the grounds of the temple started sounding.

"d.a.m.n," the first man said as the two wrestled the chunk of metal into the sidecar, "I figured we'd at least be out of the parking lot before someone caught on."

"I'll strap him down," the second man said. "You start your engine."

The man climbed aboard the motorcycle and pushed the starter. The engine roared to life. The second man finished with securing the Buddha and walked over to his motorcycle and started the engine. Looking up the hill, he caught a glimpse of several monks starting down, and he beeped his horn. The first man turned his head and, upon seeing the monks stumbling down the hill, reached for the clutch, then toed the motorcycle into gear. He twisted the throttle and began driving out of the parking lot.

"A.

GAIN," HO SAID, "thank you all for coming. Before I make a .toast, let's give a round of applause to the Minutemen." 1 161.

The crowd clapped.

"Now," Ho said, "if you will all raise your gla.s.ses."

He paused.

"To peace and prosperity on this holy day," he said. "Let us all remember the sacrifices the few have made so that the many may find peace."

Ho tipped the gla.s.s cup to his lips and took a drink. The crowd followed suit.

"The dinner will be served now," Ho said, "and in a second the band will begin again."

THE POTION IS in," Hanley said to everyone listening, "we move in five minutes."

Sometimes, if you know where to look, a person can realize that life is a well-orchestrated ballet. If one is in tune, seemingly unrelated events begin to reveal themselves. If there were someone high above the party, what he would see right now would be two distinctly different groups.

The people from the Corporation began to move like pieces on a chessboard, while those who were part of the party seemed to act as a single unit.

Sung Rhee tried to focus his eyes, but the view of the inside of the tent was ebbing and flowing. Specks of blue dotted the far edges of his peripheral vision. Then he saw what he thought was a yellow-and-red weasel out of the corner of his eye, but when he moved his head, it was gone. At just that instant, his cellular telephone rang.

"Rhee."

"I can barely hear you, sir," one of his detectives said.

Rhee stared at the tiny telephone. He was holding it a foot from his mouth, as if unable to gauge distances. He tried to move it to the proper place, but he slammed it into his temple.

"How's that?" he asked.

"Better. Sir, we just received a call from the head abbot at the162 .

A-Ma Temple. They report that a pair of men has just stolen a large golden Buddha they had on display."

Rhee thought for a second. The Buddha was right outside the tent.

"That's all right," Rhee said, "I saw our friend earlier."

"What are you talking about, sir?"

Rhee stared at the floral arrangement in the center of the table. The head of a tiny horse appeared and spoke in a British accent. Take me for a ride, it said.

"Listen, you," Rhee said, "my horse is here."

"Sir," the detective said, "I'm coming over there right away."

Rhee dropped the telephone and turned to the person next to him.

"See my horse?"

The person was a troll and he was speaking in a language Rhee could not understand.

OVER THE ROAR of the motorcycle engine, a siren came from just over the hill. The two men shut off the engines and listened. The sound neither grew louder nor diminished.

"Good," the first man said, "they're stuck in traffic, just like we planned."

"Let's do it," the second man said.

They started their engines and roared away.

DETECTIVE LING PO was screaming into the radio as he raced toward the mansion. He was a half mile away when the traffic ground to a stop.

"Can anyone reach the temple?" he shouted.

The units reported in one at a time. Only the car along the Inner Port Road was making any progress.

"We have a pair of men on motorcycles that have stolen a large gold Buddha," he said as he beeped his horn. "Has anyone seen them pa.s.s?"

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The reports were negative.

Po steered his squad car onto the sidewalk and, blaring his horn, continued on.

THE BAND WAS performing the Thin Lizzie song "The Boys Are Back in Town."

On the Oregon, Hanley was watching the monitors in alarm. They had expected some unusual behavior once the potion was administered, but what he was seeing was chaos. A crowd of guests in tuxedos and evening dresses had suddenly filled the dance floor, and several of the ladies were shedding their clothes.

Stanley Ho was walking through the tent in a daze. He was feeling strange, but he had no idea why. Spotting Candace across the tent, he began to make his way toward her.

"Okay, everyone, we go in sixty seconds," Hanley ordered.

"I hear sirens," King reported, "and they are growing closer."

"Monica," Hanley said, "are you hearing?"

Crabtree turned to where she knew the camera was in the keyboard and winked.

"Now," Hanley said.

Crabtree bit down on a packet she had taken from her purse and slipped it inside her mouth. Ho was a few feet away and she stumbled toward him with foam seeping from the edges of her mouth. She grabbed him around his neck and held tight.

"Go ahead, Murph," Hanley ordered.

Murphy slipped his hand inside his pocket and hit the trigger. Almost instantly there was a series of explosions like fireworks. The outside lights and those inside the tent went dark.

"We're a go for switch," Hanley said.

At exactly that instant, Barrett and Pryor slid one of the speaker boxes off the cart and opened a back door. A gold-painted plaster Buddha replica slipped onto the ground. At the same time, Reinholt flipped164 .

the edge of the tent over the Buddha on display. Several potted plants placed in the Y inside the tent s.h.i.+elded the guards from anyone who might be watching.

"All dark on the western front," King said as he scanned the ground through the pale green light of a night scope.

"Anyone moving?" Hanley asked.

King swept across the grounds, then down the hillside.

"There's an unmarked police car with a portable light on the roof proceeding along Avenida Republica. He's three hundred and fifty yards distant."

"Can you hit at that distance?" Hanley asked.

"Oh ye of little faith," King said. "It's a car, not a bug. I doubt I can hit the driver's nose, but you never know."

"Just a tire, Larry," Hanley said.

"Hold on," King said.

Supporting the rifle on a branch, he regulated his breathing, then waited until the police car was in his field of fire. He was in an almost Zen state of concentration. When the target appeared, it was as if it were in slow motion. King squeezed the trigger, then willed the bullet to run true. Inside the rifle, the firing pin hit the sh.e.l.l primer and sparked, the gunpowder burned and propelled the sh.e.l.l out of the cartridge and sent it spinning through the rifling inside the barrel. Leaving the end of the barrel and pa.s.sing through the noise suppressor, the slug started down the hill in a straight line toward the target.

"s.h.i.+t," Po said as his front tire shredded. He slowed down and climbed out of the squad car, leaving the door open. Looking back onto the sidewalk, he tried to see what he had hit. There was nothing visible, but that didn't mean anything. He stared up the hill to his intended destination, then decided the hill was too steep to climb. Po slid back into the driver's seat and reached for the radio.

"Target has stopped and he's calling for help," King said.

"Good job," Hanley said.

Hanley was watching the monitors, but without lights there was 165 little to see. He stared at his watch, then glanced at the schedule of actions. Thirty seconds pa.s.sed. King continued to scan the grounds. A few of the kitchen workers had popped out from inside and were cl.u.s.tered around the rear door. He swiveled his scope to the front of the house and noticed that the front gate to the driveway had opened automatically when the power was cut. Ten seconds.

"Have you sighted the charge on the fireworks display?" Hanley asked.

"Got it," King said.

"Protect your eyes after the shot," Hanley said.

"I'll switch back to regular sights," King agreed.

"We go in five, four, three, two, one."

King squeezed the trigger and hit the explosive packet Murphy had laid in place hours earlier. The fireworks exploded with a roar. Roman candles streaked skyward and the large mortarlike devices began to spew forth in belches. There was shrieking and thumping sounds as the fireworks began to discharge. King rubbed his eyes and stared at the now-lit-up scene.

Three flickers from a flashlight at the front of the tent caught his attention.

"I have a signal the switch has been made," King noted.

"Signal the helicopter," Hanley said to one of the operators.

"She's having a seizure," Ho shouted.

Monica Crabtree hung on to Ho's neck and rolled her eyes back in her head. A doctor Ho knew was dancing on one of the tables nearby, but he didn't respond to Ho's request to come over. At just that instant, Barrett walked over.

"This woman is sick," Ho said.

The guard grabbed Crabtree and slid her to the ground. The inside of the tent was chaos, the music was blaring, but in the dim light no one noticed the band had left the stage. Ho's head was spinning and he vvas having trouble concentrating. The guard placed his lips over Crabtree's.

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