Golden Buddha

The thirteenth member was Cabrillo. He would arrive after he finished his pair of meetings.

To the untrained, the mission looked like suicide: a dozen or so against a force that was close to two thousand. Odds of one hundred and fifty-plus to one. It looked like a bloodbath in the making. A trained observer, however, would be praying for the Chinese troops. First, one had to consider the Dungkar, the shadowy underground Chinese opposition thought to number in the thousands in Lhasa. When unleashed, the Dungkarwould burn with a fever that only comes when fighting an enemy on home soil. Second was the element of surprise. The Chinese were not pla

That was where the Corporation excelled.

Already, most of the Chinese forces inside Tibet were heading north in a helter-skelter deployment that had left little time for pla

Right now in Tibet, the army was a jigsaw puzzle without a design.

KASIM walked from the truck and approached the C-130 radio operator. “What have you got from inside?” he asked.

“We have another plane circling out of sight of the Chinese deployment, capturing their signals and bouncing them here,” the operator said. “Right now, most of the communications pertain to laying fuel dumps on the road north. The tanks are outru

“Have you heard from the tail?” Kasim asked.

The operator, a Chinese American formerly employed by the Defense Intelligence Agency and now attached to the CIA proprietary airline supplying the C-130, sca

“They’re making good time,” Kasim noted. “At this speed, they will pass through Amdo before eleven P.M. and then another two hours or so and they will make the border with Tsinghai Province.”

The operator stared at a classified satellite photograph and compared it with a detailed Defense Mapping Agency map. “The pass at Basatongwula Shan will slow them some; it’s riddled with steep mountains and tight turns. The altitude is almost sixty-one hundred meters.”

“Twenty thousand feet,” Kasim said. “That’s high. The border’s about two hundred fifty miles from Lhasa,” Kasim noted, “and our reports state these are the older Type Fifty-nine tanks. That gives them a range of two hundred seventy miles on a tank of diesel, or about a hundred more if they have the external fuel tanks mounted.”

The operator nodded. “I’ve been watching the progress. The Type Fifty-nine on a road can top out around fifty kilometers an hour or thirty-plus miles an hour. Normally, however, they cruise at something like twenty miles an hour.”

“What are you saying?” Kasim asked.

The operator smiled and reached for a pack of cigarettes. He tapped one from the pack, lit it with a Zippo lighter, then took a drag. Blowing out the smoke, he answered.

“What I’m saying is that these boys are ru

“So when they reach there sometime around breakfast Easter day,” Kasim said, “they will be four hundred miles from Lhasa, with a twenty-thousand-foot pass in between them and us.”

“Sounds about right,” the operator said.

“Thanks for the help,” Kasim said.

A line of Vietnamese air force airmen carried the last of the crates aboard the C-130. Hanley stood off to the side, talking to the Vietnamese general in charge of the arrangements. Kasim watched as Hanley handed the man an envelope, then the two shared a laugh. Hanley shook the general’s hand, then walked over to the C-130.

“Mr. Hanley,” Kasim said, “I have a plan.”

THE Gulfstream G550 carrying Cabrillo and the Golden Buddha landed at Amritsar, India, and Cabrillo and the icon were flown in a helicopter the rest of the way to Little Lhasa, near Dharamsala in the northern Himachal Pradesh region of northern India.

The aide quickly ushered him in to his meeting with the Dalai Lama.

“Your Holiness,” Cabrillo said as he entered and bowed his head slightly.

The Dalai Lama stood silently, staring at Cabrillo for a full minute. Then he smiled.

“You are a good man,” he said at last. “Langston told me—but I needed to be sure for myself.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cabrillo said. “These are the papers that we recovered from inside the Buddha,” he said, handing them to the Dalai Lama’s aide. “I’ll need them transcribed before my meeting with the Russians.”

“Copy them and translate them into English,” the Dalai Lama ordered his aide. “Mr. Cabrillo will need to leave again shortly.”

The Dalai Lama motioned to a long couch, where Overholt was already seated. Cabrillo sat on the end and the Dalai Lama slipped between the two men. “So explain the plan,” he said.

“I believe the Russians will support your bid to regain your country. They will offer the muscle to deter the Chinese from making an assault once we gain control of Lhasa, in return for the rights to develop what you claim those documents represent: the vast oil reserves of the Himalayas.”

“Their location’s known only to us,” said the Dalai Lama. “In those documents. So—your president got them to the border by offering them the aid package,” the Dalai Lama said, “but to fight, they need more.”

“Exactly,” Cabrillo said.

“And you?” the Dalai Lama asked. “Your company? What were you hired to do?”

“We were hired to steal the Golden Buddha and to pave the way for your return. Once you are back inside Tibet, our obligation would, by the contract wording, end.”

“So I would be left—how do you say it?—high and dry,” the Dalai Lama said.

“Hard to say,” Cabrillo admitted, “and this has bothered me and my associates.”

“Why?” the Dalai Lama said. “Are you not mercenaries? Once your obligation is over, don’t you just blend into the night?”

Cabrillo thought for a minute how to answer this question. He paused and thought as the Dalai Lama waited. “It’s a little more complex than that, Your Holiness. If we did what we did just for money, we would have all retired by now. It’s more involved than that. In the past, most of us worked for one government agency or another, and we were compelled by Congress, or public opinion, to do things we knew or felt were wrong. We don’t do those things anymore. We were formed to make a profit, that’s for sure, but as much as we like the money, we are also cognizant of the chances that arise for us to somehow right the wrongs of others.”

“You are speaking of Karma,” the Dalai Lama said. “Something I am most aware of.”

Cabrillo nodded. “We have decided that to leave you alone to fight the Chinese would be wrong. The solution came to us when we realized the significance of the papers inside the Golden Buddha.”

“And I assume your company will profit from such a deal?” the Dalai Lama asked.

“Is that bad?” Cabrillo asked.

“Not necessarily,” the Dalai Lama said, “but explain more.”

Ten minutes later, Cabrillo was finished.

“I’m impressed,” the Dalai Lama said, “now let me explain mine.”