“It’s going to take me thirty or forty-five minutes,” the scientist said, already growing weary of the billionaire’s rude manner. “Why don’t you head to the cafeteria and grab something to drink?”
“Do they have Chai tea?” the billionaire said.
“No,” the scientist said wearily, “but there’s a Starbucks on the commons that does.”
After giving him directions to the Starbucks, he waited until the man walked out and closed the door to the laboratory.
“Idiot,” the scientist said.
Then he walked over to a small kiln and slid the metal plate holding the shaving of gold inside. After it melted, he placed the sample inside a computer-powered sampler that would give a breakdown of the percentages of the other metals present. By comparing the ratios with known ores already mined, the scientist could determine the general area where the gold had been mined.
As he waited for the machine to perform its magic, the scientist read a skiing magazine. Twenty minutes later, the machine stopped.
THE president of the United States was sitting in an Adirondack chair behind the main house at Camp David, Maryland. The president of Russia sat across from him, a wooden table separating the two.
Though not visible, $2 billion in foreign aid was on the table.
“How does it sound, Vlad?” the president asked.
“You know I’ve never been a big fan of the Chinese,” the Russian president said, “but the foreign aid is only a bandage. My country’s factories need orders for our economy to mend itself.”
The president nodded. “The biggest-ticket items in my budget are always the military planes and ships. The Taiwanese have got a shopping list a mile long. What if I could steer some of that business your way?”
The Russian president smiled. “You are a crafty one,” he said. “You’ve managed to give me what my country needs while at the same time pitting us against the Chinese, who as you well know make an enemy of anyone who befriends Taiwan.”
The president rose from the chair and stretched. “Now, Vlad,” he said, “isn’t that the nucleus of negotiation—to give both sides what they want?”
“I think,” the Russian president said, rising, “we may just have a deal.”
“Good, then,” the president said, motioning toward the dining hall. “What do you say we go see what kind of pie the chef has in the oven?”
“THE gold was mined somewhere in the area of Burma,” the scientist said when the billionaire returned, clutching a paper cup of tea.
“Can you be more specific?”
“South of the twenty-degrees latitude line, which means southern Vietnam, Laos, Thailand or Burma. I can try to pin it down more, but it will take time.”
The billionaire sipped the tea, then shook his head back and forth. “Don’t bother, you said the magic word.”
The billionaire started toward the door while at the same time removing a cellular telephone from his belt. “Bring the car around,” he said to the driver. Then he disconnected and reached for the door.
“Do you want your gold back?” the scientist shouted across the laboratory.
“Keep it,” the billionaire shouted. “I’ve got a lot more where that came from.”
“You’re most generous,” the scientist muttered as he scraped the sample from the now-cool plate and slid it into the envelope with the other.
Carrying the envelope over to his desk, he tossed it into the top drawer. Then he walked to the door, shut off the lights, and locked the door to the laboratory behind him. A few minutes later, he was tooling across campus on his moped, still shaking his head at the strange encounter.
INSIDE a storage hold on the lower level of the Oregon, Hanley was standing with Kevin Nixon, staring at a collection of wheeled conveyances.
“For certain, we should have a couple of the motorcycles and at least one of the all-terrain vehicles prepared,” Hanley said.
Nixon nodded, then walked over to one of the motorcycles. Since the last time it had been used, it had been cleaned and oiled. All the tools used by the Corporation were kept in a constant state of readiness—it was one of the easiest ways to ensure success.
“I’ll go ahead and test run everything,” Nixon said. “Want me to fabricate Macau license plates for each?”
“Sounds good,” Hanley said. “Just standard tags, nothing diplomatic.”