Golden Buddha Part 42

Gurt, a mid-fifties blond-haired man with a crew cut and a gold tooth in front, smiled.

"Murphy," he said, flas.h.i.+ng the tooth, "I thought this might be something you'd be involved in. It had the smell of a Corporation operation."

The men continued visiting while Seng flipped through the information Gannon had ama.s.sed. Five minutes later, he called everyone to sit in the rows of folding wooden chairs arranged in front of the boards.

The pilots ambled over and took seats behind the Corporation crew.

Seng glanced at the a.s.sembled group before speaking.

"For those of you who don't know me," he said easily, "my name is Eddie, Seng. Please call me Seng and not Eddie so there is no confusion.

I will be commander in charge of this operation until the time that our chairman, Juan Cabrillo, arrives in the theater."

The group nodded.

"The breakdown of flight operation will be as follows. Six of the helicopters will be tasked with offensive operations, one for the chairman when he arrives, one for medical. We will draw the a.s.signments out of a hat on who is a.s.signed to what, to be fair. Each of the helicopters will carry one member of our team, and the pilots will be required to fly this person anywhere he requests. Gentlemen, we will I 344.

potentially be under fire and in harm's way for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. If this is not what you signed up for, let me know now so you can be replaced. If not, I want you to understand that as pilots you will be answering to the team member aboard. If you hesitate or refuse to comply with a request, you will be replaced by one of our team that is qualified in helicopter operations, and you will forfeit your second half payment. Any questions?"

Gurt raised his hand. "When do we receive our first half?"

"Ah ... a real pilot," Seng said, "The answer is, as soon as we are finished here. Everyone okay with that?"

Heads nodded.

"If you have personal property or letters to loved ones or wish us to transfer the funds to another party if something happens to you,"

Seng noted, "please see either Gannon or Crabtree."

Gannon and Crabtree raised their hands.

"Now, are there any other business matters before I explain the operation?"

The hangar was silent.

"Good, then," Seng said. "Here's the plan."

THE GULFSTREAM G550 was at forty-one thousand feet racing toward Moscow as Cabrillo talked over a secure satellite telephone to the Oregon. "Go over them again," he said as he scrawled notes on a yellow pad. "Okay, I've got them."

The line was silent as Cabrillo studied the list.

"And Halpert set up the main corporate ent.i.ty in Andorra."

"Correct," Hanley said.

"Lucky break," Cabrillo said, "but then, by looking at this list, the Dalai Lama is a lucky one too. If this had been scheduled last year, I don't know if we could have pulled it off."

"Isn't that the truth?" Hanley said.

"Here's how I see it," Cabrillo said. "Of the fifteen members of the I 345.

United Nations Security Council, we have three of the five permanent members: the United States, the United Kingdom and Russia. China is obviously not going to vote our way, and France is currently trying to sell whatever they can to the Chinese, so they'll probably vote with them so as not to upset any deals they have in progress. The remaining ten will be tricky--we need to pull six out of the ten to give us the nine we need for the resolution. Let me go over it with you. Afghanistan we're not going to get--even with the U.S. involvement a few years ago, there are still too many pockets of anti-Buddhist revolutionaries for their leaders to risk voting with us. Sweden is and will always be pacifistic, at least at the start, as will Canada. Cuba receives too much aid from China to risk voting our way, not to mention they almost always vote the opposite of the U.S."

"Sounds about right," Hanley said.

"That leaves us Brunei, Laos, Qatar, Andorra, Kiribati and Tuvalu."

"Correct," Hanley said.

"It's blind luck that we have two tiny South Pacific nations on the Security Council at the same time," Cabrillo said.

"It's like a couple of years ago, when Cameroon and Guinea were both members at the same time," Hanley said. "It happens."

"Each country in the United Nations has one vote," Cabrillo said, "but this is the first time I really considered the impact."

"Same here," Hanley said.

Cabrillo thought for a moment. "I know the emir of Qatar," he said. "If we offer him a favor later, he'll order his people to vote the way we want. What have we got coming up?"

Hanley thought for a moment. "Nothing right now, but that can change. The last time he went in with us, he made something like eighty million. If we call in the past favor and dangle something ahead, you got the vote."

"You're right," Cabrillo said. "I'll take care of dealing with him."

"Good," Hanley said. "Laos should be easy. They're Buddhist, and the general wants his car."

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"Offer him several," Cabrillo said.

"Where are we funding this from?" Hanley asked.

"We're going to try to use around half of the hundred million windfall for everything."

"Easy come easy go," Hanley said. "Brunei should be ours. The country is fifteen percent Buddhist and the sultan can't risk alienating his const.i.tuents."

"Plus we saved his brother's life a couple of years ago," Cabrillo added.

"Andorra," Hanley said, "what about them?"

"Good thing Halpert set up the new company there," Cabrillo said.

"What's their GDP?"

Hanley scanned through an almanac and found the information.

"It's around one point two billion."

"Once the oil comes online," Cabrillo noted, "we'll be bringing another twenty percent to the table. If someone explains that to their amba.s.sador, he'd be stupid not to see his way to giving us their vote.

Money talks--plus this is the right thing to do, anyway."

"I agree," Hanley said.

"That just leaves the little guys," Cabrillo said. "Kiribati and Tuvalu."

"Kiribati's GDP is sixty million," Hanley said. "Tuvalu's is even less. It's something like eight million split up over ten thousand citizens.

Put two to a room, and one of the major Las Vegas hotels could house the entire country."

Cabrillo was silent for a moment.

"Call Lowden in Colorado and have him start buying cars for the general. Next, send Halpert to Andorra to explain the impact our company will have on their economy. I'll take care of the emir of Qatar and the sultan of Brunei."

"And the little guys?"

"Truitt's free, isn't he?" asked Cabrillo.

"Yes, he is."

"Get him on a jet with a stack of bearer bonds."

"You want him to buy the votes?" Hanley asked "Exactly."

347.

349.

THE STORM THAT brought the torrential rains to Macau had turned into spring snow by the time it crossed Russia. Had it not been night, Cabrillo would have seen that Moscow was covered in a wet blanket of white that rounded the edges of buildings and quieted the sounds. Peering from the windows of the Gulfstream as the pilots shut down the engines, he could see a trio of black Zil limousines with police escorts front and rear. Holding a fax that had arrived from Overholt only minutes before, he slid the doc.u.ment into the file and then unbuckled his seat belt and rose. The copilot was unlatching the door as he walked forward.

"Do you men need anything?" Cabrillo asked.

"I think we're okay, boss," the copilot said. "We'll just refuel and await your return."

Cabrillo nodded and waited as the step was lowered. "Wish me luck," he said as he stepped down onto the snow-covered tarmac.

A tall man in a thick, dark blue wool coat was standing a few feet from the Gulfstream. His head was covered by a fur Cossack cap and his breath made puffs of mist as he exhaled. He approached Cabrillo while removing a glove and offered his hand. Cabrillo shook it, then the man motioned to the middle limousine.

"I'm Sergei Makelikov," the man said as the driver opened the door, "special a.s.sistant to President Putin."

Cabrillo followed the man into the rear of the limousine. "Juan Cabrillo, chairman of the Corporation."

The door was closed, and a few seconds later the police cars started away from the Gulfstream followed by the trio of limousines. "The president is very interested in hearing what you have to say," Makelikov noted. "May I offer you a drink, perhaps vodka, or some coffee?"

"Coffee, please," Cabrillo said.

Makelikov reached for a silver-plated thermal carafe and poured the contents into a red mug with the crest of the Russian republic on the side. He handed it to Cabrillo.

"How was your flight?"

The streets were deserted at this late hour. The procession roared down the road toward central Moscow, followed by a cloud of snowflakes.

Cabrillo sipped the coffee.

"No problems," Cabrillo said, smiling.

"Cuban cigar?" Makelikov asked.

"Don't mind if I do," Cabrillo said as he selected one from the box Makelikov held.

Tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the end with a tool from inside the box, Cabrillo leaned over for a light from Makelikov. "We'll be there shortly," the Russian noted. "In the meantime, perhaps you would like to hear some music."

He motioned to a CD player and a stack of discs. They were all jazz.

"I see you know my taste in music," Cabrillo said.

"We know a lot about you," Makelikov said easily, "and that is why President Putin is staying up late to see you."

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Cabrillo nodded and smiled. "Great cigar."

Makelikov lit one and puffed. "It is, isn't it?"

Cabrillo slid a CD into the player and the men relaxed and listened.

Fourteen minutes later the procession slid to a stop in front of a row of town houses near Gorky Park. Makelikov waited until the driver opened the door, then he stepped out onto the snow-covered sidewalk.

"One of the president's hideaways," he said as Cabrillo climbed out.

"We can talk here in private."

The two men headed up the walkway to the steps and climbed up to the door, where Makelikov nodded at a Russian army sergeant. He saluted and swung the door open. Makelikov and Cabrillo walked inside.

"Mr. President," Makelikov said loudly, "your visitor has arrived."

"I'm in the living room," a voice said from a room to the right.

"Let me take your coat," Makelikov said, helping Cabrillo out of his overcoat. "Go on in--I'll join you in a few minutes."

Cabrillo walked into the living room. The room was fitted and furnished like the library of an expensive gentleman's club. Dark wood paneling, the walls were covered with paintings of hunting scenes and birds. Along the right wall was a fireplace containing a roaring wood fire. A pair of high-backed red leather chairs framed the fireplace, with a couch just behind them closer to the door. A thick red carpet atop the inlaid wood floors led almost to the fireplace hearth. Two bra.s.s lamps on each side of the couch cast pools of light in the otherwise dark room. President Putin's back was to Cabrillo as he stoked the fire. Finis.h.i.+ng, he stood up and turned.

"Mr. Cabrillo," he said, smiling, "come in and have a seat."

Cabrillo slid into the red leather chair to the left of the fireplace, while Putin took the right.

"Back when I was with the KGB, I had quite a file on you," Putin said.

"And me you," Cabrillo said in Russian.