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Ho nodded slowly. “Why don’t you figure the premiums on four hundred million.”

“I would, of course, need to contact our main office for the quotes,” Truitt said, “but I can easily attest to the value.”

Ho sat back in his chair. The realization that he owned a truly priceless work of art was sinking into his soul. Now his ego needed stroking. A stroking that only other rich people could give him.

“I’m having a party today,” he said.

“I saw the preparations,” Truitt said, smiling.

“You, of course, are invited,” Ho said, “but I was thinking of displaying the artifact to my guests. I would feel more comfortable if I had a rider covering the piece until I receive the actual quote. Just something to cover today.”

“You are, of course, thinking of displaying it downstairs,” Truitt said.

Ho wasn’t, but he was now.

“Yes,” Ho said. “Perhaps out on the grounds?”

Truitt nodded. “Let me make a quick call.”

Ho pointed to his telephone, but Truitt whipped out a cell phone and hit the speed dial.

“Samuelson here.”

“Richard, you’re a magnificent bastard,” the voice said. “We have been listening for the last few minutes over the bug. Nice work.”

“I need a quote on a one-day rider to Mr. Ho’s policy to cover

a piece of art valued at four hundred million until we can come up with an accurate figure for long-term coverage.”

“La de dah, de dah. All right then,” the operator on the Oregon said, “let me make up a number for you. How about twenty thousand dollars? Or whatever you decide. But I’d take the fee in cash if I was you. Then we can have a party after this is over.”

“I see,” Truitt said, nodding, “so we will require increased security. Hold on a minute.”

Truitt placed his hand over the telephone.

Back on the Oregon, the operator turned to Hanley.

“Truitt’s red-hot today,” he said. “I had not even thought of that angle.”

Ho was waiting for the adjuster to speak.

“The fee for the rider for the day will be eighteen thousand five hundred U.S. But my company is insisting on increased security. Luckily, we have a local firm we use—my office will contact them and have some men out here within the hour, if that’s okay with you.”

“Does the fee include the security detail?” Ho asked.

Truitt thought for a second, but decided not to push.

“The fee includes three security guards, but we will want the fee in cash,” Truitt said seriously.

Ho stood up and walked over to his safe. “Sounds reasonable,” he said.

Truitt smiled—the offer was anything but reasonable, but Ho had no way to know that.

“I’ll tell them,” Truitt said.

Ho began spinning the dial to his safe.

“We have an agreement,” he said to the operator on the Oregon, “but we’ll need the security people here as soon as possible.”


Tags: Clive Cussler Oregon Files Thriller