Emerald Buddha

Chapter 58

Drake reclined in his Herman Miller Aeron chair and eyed the blue Pacific stretching to the horizon. Spencer shifted on the sofa and gave an exasperated sigh.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Allie’s voice on the speakerphone sounded equally impatient. “Positive. There’s no such thing as the Myanmar Archaeological Committee, and the government is stonewalling us. There’s no official statement about the find, no return calls, nothing. It’s been the same thing for, what, coming up on three weeks?”

“My contact at the State Department said we’re screwed through official channels,” Spencer said. “As to the general, apparently the Myanmar dictatorship isn’t big on publishing the names of its ranking officers. Or anything else, for that matter, so that’s another dead end.”

“There has to be something else we can try. What they’re doing is criminal,” Drake griped.

“The good news is we bought another lot of icons and coins, this time through a dealer in Hong Kong,” Allie said. “That makes the third lot so far. They’re really wasting no time, are they?”

“I can’t believe there isn’t a way to shut it down. It’s not theirs to sell,” Spencer said.

“Possession is nine-tenths, apparently,” Drake offered. “The Cambodian Government has filed formal complaints with everyone that will listen, but it’s had no effect. Oh, it also expressed its continued gratitude for our generosity.” Drake and Allie had been taking turns buying the temple treasure when it appeared at private auctions and gifting it to the Cambodian people. So far, the lots had run a couple of million dollars, and they’d set aside five apiece to restore the treasure to the rightful heirs of the Khmer Empire. It wouldn’t begin to buy everything, but the hope was that it would go a long way into shaming the Cambodian bureaucracy into creating a fund to finish the job.

“Still no word on the Buddha?” Allie asked.

“Nope. Silent as the grave.”

“A relic of that significance won’t stay hidden forever. When it comes on the market, we’ll hear about it. I’ve got all the usual suspects putting out word of our interest.”

Their foray into the world of illegal antiquities had been eye-opening. There was a thriving market for illicit statues, parchments, and relics of all shapes and sizes, from Sumerian to Aztec to Greek and Roman — wherever there was big money looking to be deployed, mansions to furnish, friends to impress, there was demand for the rarest of the rare: one-of-a-kind artifacts unavailable to the great unwashed. A network of specialized outlets ringed the world, and live auctions were conducted by invitation only — or, in some cases, items were just sold outright when a match between buyer and seller could be arranged.

Allie and Drake had established contacts in that black market through legitimate art and antique houses, and had let it be known that they wanted first right of refusal for any of the Khmer items. They’d believed it might take a year for the initial buys, and had been surprised by how rapidly the general — or the Myanmar government — had been selling off the temple contents.

“But as of now, I’m hosed on any chance of a finder’s fee,” Spencer grumbled.

“Yeah, looks that way. That’s how the ball bounces. We’ll make it up on the next one,” Drake said, ignoring Spencer’s eye roll.

“How’s your financial quagmire going, Spencer? Getting it all figured out?” Allie asked.

“The hedge fund says they can account for every penny, but so far they haven’t delivered anything in writing,” Spencer said glumly.

“And no money?” Allie said.

“Nada.”

“That sucks.”

“Tell me about it. I’m accepting donations. I’ll paint your house, whatever you want.”

Drake laughed. “He’s got a cardboard sign: will work for spare millions.”

“You should consider televangelism, Spencer. You’d be good at it,” Allie said.

“Get a tent and take it on the road,” Drake agreed. Spencer gave him the finger and Drake picked up the handset, taking the call off speaker. He walked out onto the deck and shielded his eyes from the sun with his free hand. “How much longer are you going to stay in Texas?”

“The depositions should be done within another week or so.”

They’d spent three days in Bangkok, waiting for new passports to be issued by the embassy, during which time Allie had been badgered by her attorneys, who insisted she needed to be back immediately to deal with the lawsuits. The return to civilization had been jarring, and she’d grown distant almost immediately as her energy had gone into multi-hour conference calls to discuss strategy and new hurdles.

Joe had returned to his village a millionaire, taking the seven figures they’d offered him as thanks over the chance at more from the treasure. He’d been in the region long enough to understand the odds of ever seeing anything more in payout, and had taken the bird in the hand. His parting words had been typically cheerful.

“Dude, you ever want someone to hang with on another one of these, you know where to find me. Hut’s always open for business. Stay positive.”

“I’m not sure we can afford any more wisdom, Joe.”

“Some things are priceless.”

Drake spotted Kyra inside her house and waved. She returned the wave and gave him a ‘hang loose’ hand sign. “What’s that?” he said, distracted and not catching Allie’s last sentence.

“I said, hopefully I won’t have to be here until these go to trial, although my team says I’d be smarter to settle. That’s all these parasites want, a few bucks. Their attorneys are banking on me caving just to get them off my back.”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad idea,” Drake said.

“Over my dead body. I’ll spend my last dime fighting them — I’m not going to reward anyone for trying to take advantage of me.”

“Sounds like your lawyers have job security for a long time, then.”

“Maybe the suits will go away when their guys figure out there’s going to be no easy payday.”

“Hope’s always good.” Drake paused. “Have you thought about what we discussed? Moving out here for a while, seeing how you like it?”

“Of course. It’s on my mind a lot.”

“Spencer’s got a condo in Malibu now. We could all be neighbors.”

“What happened to his house?”

“Construction. Place is falling apart. They’re ripping out the foundation piece by piece. He got robbed. It’s unlivable, and he says he can’t stand to look at it anymore.”

“Poor Spencer.”

“I can’t believe you’re feeling sorry for a guy with a Lambo and a private jet.”

“Don’t forget the boat.”

“Right.” Drake had to laugh. “So are you going to come out?”

Allie sighed. “Yes.”

“When?”

“No more than two weeks from now.”

“That’s awesome,” Drake said, trying to keep the excitement to a minimum. “You want me to start looking for a place?”

“I’d rather pick my own. I can stay on your couch or something while I look, can’t I?”

“Of course.”

After a few more minutes, Allie signed off, and Drake went back inside. Spencer grinned at him from the sofa.

“What was that all about?”

“She’s going to be here in a few weeks. Said she’d give California a try.”

“Sweet. Do you get to keep Kyra on the side?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Just asking.”

“When are you going to get the car out of my garage?”

“Still waiting for parts. Damned thing won’t even start now.”

“Handmade,” Drake reminded him.

“Italian. I understand they can be temperamental.”

“And expensive.”

Spencer reached for his soda can and shrugged. “You don’t say.”

“I know what will cheer you up. Boat ride!”

“It’s in the yard.”

“Take the plane up and buzz around?”

“On charter this week.”

Drake thought for a few seconds and then smiled. “Then there’s only one thing left.”

They both smiled and cried out at the same time.

“Pizza!”