Golden Buddha

and sliding into the armchair.

“He will be in Moscow late this evening,” the ambassador said.

“Good,” Putin said. “I welcome the chance to hear him out.”

The ambassador finished the small glass of vodka and waved away Putin’s attempt to refill it. “Now,” he said, “how much hassle are you getting from the Chinese?”

“Enough,” the Russian president admitted, “but not more than we can handle.”

“If you need to,” the ambassador asked, “are you ready to go in?”

Putin pointed to a folder of papers on the table. “There is the plan. In less than twenty-four hours, we can cross the Tarim Basin in a lightning-fast raid and reach the border of Tibet.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” the ambassador said.

“If I have to order that approach,” Putin said, “I want your president on paper supporting that move. There is no other way.”

“We don’t think you’ll need to do that,” the ambassador said. “It won’t go that far.”

“Just know,” Putin said, “if we stand up—he does too.”

“I’ll let him know,” the ambassador said.

“THEY appeared out of nowhere,” the head of Chinese state security said.

Chinese president Hu Jintao stared at the man with barely concealed contempt.

“Five hundred Buddhist monks just materialized out of the mist in People’s Park in downtown Beijing?” Jintao said. “That’s some magic.”

The man sat mute. There was nothing to say.

“And they are chanting and calling for Tibetan freedom?”

“Yes, sir,” the man from state security said.

“When was the last time we were faced with a Tibetan protest?” Jintao asked.

“In Beijing?” the man said. “It’s been over a decade—and then it was tiny and easily dispersed.”

“And this one?”

“It’s growing by the minute,” the man admitted.

“I’ve got a massive Russian war exercise on the border with Mongolia, Tibetan separatists in downtown Beijing, and I’m not sure what’s going on in Macau province. This spring is not coming up with fresh-smelling flowers.”

“Do you want me to order troops to disperse the protesters?” the head of state security asked.

“Absolutely not,” Jintao said. “Our world standing still has not been repaired from Tiananmen Square, and that was in 1989. We take action against peaceful Buddhist monks, the repercussions will reverberate for decades.”

“Then do nothing?”

“For now,” Jintao said, “until we figure out what is happening.”

“WHERE are we at on this thing?” the president of the United States asked.

“Off the record, sir?” the Director of Central Intelligence asked.

“I did not sneak you into the White House through the underground tunnel so that I could discuss it tonight on Larry King, Director. Yes, completely off the record.”

“It’s progressing perfectly,” the DCI noted. “And we are shielded behind an armor of deniability that couldn’t be penetrated with an antitank round.”

“How soon before you need me to do my thing?” the president asked.

“Tomorrow,” the DCI said, “if all goes according to plan.”

“Then,” the president said, rising, “you make sure it does.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” the DCI said as the president walked through the door and down the hall to a state dinner that was already in progress.

THEOregon was flying across the water. The schedule called for the ship to stop in Ho Chi Minh City. Once there, the operatives that would be needed in Tibet would be off-loaded and flown in a C-130 northwest to Bhutan. Then the Oregon would continue on, passing Singapore. Traversing the Strait of Malacca, the vessel would race north into the Bay of Bengal, arriving off Bangladesh on Easter Day.

That was the closest to Tibet that the Oregon would ever be.

No one in the Corporation enjoyed it when the Oregon and her battery of electronics and firepower were far from the operation. The ship was the lifeline to the crew, their home away from home, their anchor in the stormy sea of intrigue where they operated.

Ross and Kasim were doing their best to smooth the difficulty.

“I’ve tested the satellite uplink,” Kasim said. “The Oregon will have command-and- control capability. Everyone will be reachable either by radio or secure telephone.”

Ross glanced up from her computer screen. “I’m programming the drones. We have two. That’s less than I would like, but they’re just so damn expensive.”

“Who will fly them?” Kasim asked.