“I’m just worried—if any of the guests happen to be guitar players, they’ll know we’re faking it,” Cabrillo said.
“I rigged the guitar with tiny LED lights that are only visible with special glasses,” Nixon said, smiling. “They’re color-coded for the player’s fingers. All he has to do is place his fingers where the light shows and he should be okay.”
Nixon handed Cabrillo the guitar and a pair of blackframed sunglasses. He slid the strap over his neck and Nixon plugged the guitar into the power source.
“It goes thumb purple, index finger red, then down the fingers, yellow, blue and green,” Nixon said. “Same on the frets. Hold a second and I’ll start the computer.”
Cabrillo slipped on the glasses and waited. Once the lights lit up, he pushed his fingers on the illuminated strings. A crude rendition of the “Star Spangled Banner” filled the Magic Shop.
“We won’t win any Grammys,” Cabrillo said when the lights went dark, “but it should get us past any casual scrutiny.”
Hanley walked over to a bench and removed a clear glass bottle containing a pale blue liquid. “There’s one other thing to consider,” he said, smiling. “This stuff came straight from the labs at Fort Dietrich, Maryland. Once we slip some of this into the punch bowl, this party will be kicking.”
“There’s no long-term effects, right?” Cabrillo asked.
“No,” Hanley said, “only short-term. It seems that after a few drops of this elixir, you’ll have the time of your life.”
12
“THE sample checks out,” the software billionaire said over the telephone.
Spenser had dispensed with the voice-alteration equipment, but his words were tinged with a fear that made his upper-crust accent less polished than perplexed.
“Then you are interested?” he said.
“Sure,” the software billionaire said, “but I’ve decided that I want to make the transfer myself. I have the feeling you’re about as trustworthy as a hooker with a crack habit.”
Spenser frowned. His plan of thievery and deceit was unraveling. The costs he had already incurred made a quick sale his only salvation—there was no time to line up another buyer. He was in the worst possible place. He was a seller who needed to sell—with a buyer who was calling the shots.
“Then you need to come here and take delivery,” Spenser said.
“Where’s here?”
“Macau,” Spenser said.
The software billionaire stared at a calendar on his desk. “I’ll be there the evening of Good Friday.”
“I’ll want cash or bearer bonds then,” Spenser said. “No more bank transfer.”
“Fair enough, but don’t try anything, I’m bringing reinforcements.”
“You bring the money,” Spenser said, “and you get the Buddha.”
The billionaire disconnected and Spenser sat quietly for a moment.
He didn’t have long to go.
“MONICA’S a guest,” Cabrillo said as he glanced at the sheet of notes. “For this operation, she’s a minor member of the Danish royal family.”
“It’s all so common,” Crabtree said with a Scandinavian accent.
“You’ll need to fake a speech impediment with that accent,” Hanley said. “Stop by the Magic Shop and we’ll make you a mouth guard that will add a lisp.”
“Great,” Crabtree said, “I get to play a lisping lady-in-waiting.”
“It could be worse,” Cabrillo said. “Linda’s replacing the chain-smoking Portuguese party planner, Iselda.”
“Excellent,” Linda Ross said, laughing. “I finally quit smoking a few years ago and now the Corporation is going to get me hooked again.”
“By the way,” Hanley said, “we think Iselda also practices an alternative lifestyle.”
“So I’m a chain-smoking Portuguese lesbian party planner,” Ross said. “At least it’s not as bad as when I was a German transsexual dominatrix.”
“I remember that,” Murphy said. “You looked like Madeline Kahn in that Mel Brooks film.”
“I remember you being kind of turned on,” Ross said.
“We were going to use Julia, but we couldn’t, for the obvious reason,” Cabrillo noted.
Julia Huxley, the
“You’d just better perfect your Pamela Anderson-Lee-whoever look,” Hanley said.
“I get to play a slut?” Huxley said happily.
“Girlfriend of one of the band members,” Cabrillo noted.
“Same thing,” Huxley said eagerly. “Can Max do me some fake tattoos?”
