cc.goldenbuddha-第25部分

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　〃I'm　going　to　go　take　a　look；〃　one　of　the　men　said　as　he　climbed　off　the　motorcycle　and　walked　over　to　a　nearby　float。　Lifting　the　side　curtain；　he　stared　at　the　framework　before　a　policeman　walked　over　and　shooed　him　away。　
　〃Lot　of　room　under　there；〃　he　said　to　his　partner　as　he　returned　and　climbed　back　into　his　seat。　
　Several　members　of　a　marching　band　trudged　past；　followed　by　an　elephant　with　a　handler　sitting　atop　in　a　basket　chair。　
　〃Hell　of　a　deal；〃　the　second　man　said　quietly；　〃hell　of　a　deal。〃
　
　RICHARD　TRUITT　STARED　in　the　mirror　in　his　hotel　room　on　AvLV^nida　de　Almeida　Ribeiro；　then　adjusted　his　tie。　Reaching　into　his　shaving　kit；　he　removed　a　round　container　and　opened　it　up。　Touching　his　fingertip　to　the　colored　contact　lens；　he　placed　it　over　an　eye　and　blinked　it　into　place。　After　placing　the　second　lens；　he　stood　back　and　examined　the　result。　
　Truitt　was　pleased　and　he　smiled。　
　Then　he　reached　into　another　bag　and　removed　a　dental　appliance　and　slid　it　over　his　top　row　of　teeth。　Now　he　had　a　slightly　bucktoothed　look。　Removing　a　pair　of　tortoiseshell　glasses　from　the　bag；　he　placed　them　over　his　ears　and　adjusted　them　on　the　bridge　of　his　nose。　If　it　was　geek　he　was　seeking；　he'd　hit　the　mother　lode。　All　that　remained　was　to　grease　down　his　hair　and　sprinkle　a　little　false　dandruff　on　the　collar　of　his　tweed　jacket。　Perfect。　
　Walking　into　the　living　room　of　the　suite；　he　removed　a　document　from　the　out　tray　in　his　printer　and　gave　it　an　examination。　It　was　ornate　and　pompous　in　true　British　fashion。　By　royal　appointment　to　the　queen；　said　one　line。　Since　1834；　said　another。　Truitt　folded　the　document　and　slipped　it　into　the　inside　pocket　of　his　jacket。　Then　he　turned　off　the　puter　and　printer　and　packed　it　into　its　case。　His　bags　were　already　packed　and　sitting　by　the　door。　He　returned　to　the　bathroom　to　gather　up　his　things　there；　then　walked　back　into　the　living　room　and　slid　them　into　a　side　pocket　of　one　of　the　bags。　Then　he　walked　over　to　the　telephone　and　dialed　a　number。　
　〃On　my　way；〃　he　said　quietly。　
　〃Good　luck；〃　Cabrillo　replied。　
　Now　he　just　needed　to　make　his　way　out　of　the　room　without　being　seen。　
　
　FOR　THE　MOST　part；　Linda　Ross　was　a　good…natured　and　positive　JL　person。　
　That's　what　made　playing　Iselda　so　much　fun。　Most　people　have　a　bitchy　sidethey　just　keep　it　suppressed。　Since　the　report　on　Iselda　claimed　she　suppressed　the　best　and　not　the　worst；　Ross　was　playing　the　opportunity　to　the　hilt。　Riding　down　the　elevator　to　the　parking　garage；　she　stepped　over　to　the　attendant's　window　and　frowned。　The　man　raced　from　the　enclosure　to　bring　her　car。　As　Ross　waited；　she　tried　to　decide　what　Iselda　would　tip　and　decided　it　was　probably　nothing。　
　The　attendant　pullod　up　in　a　dirty　Peugeot　and　opened　the　door。　Ross　slid　into　the　driver's　seat　and　muttered　〃I'll　get　you　next　time〃　to　the　attendant　and　slammed　the　door。　The　inside　of　the　car　smelled　like　a　Wisconsin　roadhouse　at　closing　time。　The　carpet　was　littered　with　ashes　and　the　ashtray　was　overflowing。　The　inside　of　the　windows　were　covered　with　a　film　of　nicotine。　
　〃Here　we　go；〃　she　whispered　as　she　reached　into　the　glove　box　and　removed　a　pack　of　cigarettes　and　lit　one　up。　Then　she　placed　the　Peugeot　into　drive　and　rolled　out　to　the　street。　Ten　minutes　later　she　pulled　in　front　of　the　mansion　and　passed　her　first　test。　
　〃Open　the　gate；〃　she　shouted　at　the　guard；　who　stared　inside　and；　seeing　it　was　her；　pushed　a　button；　〃I'm　late。〃　
　Parking　over　to　one　side　of　the　driveway；　she　climbed　from　the　car　and　lit　another　cigarette。　
　〃Dump　my　ashtray　when　you　get　a　chance；〃　she　said　to　a　gardener　who　walked　past。　
　The　man　ignored　her　and　continued　on。　Walking　to　the　front　door；　she　rang　the　bell；　then　waited　until　the　butler　opened　the　door。　
　〃Out　of　my　way；〃　she　said　as　she　swept　past　and　headed　for　where　she　remembered　the　kitchen　to　be　from　the　blueprints　she'd　memorized。　Bursting　into　the　kitchen；　she　stared　at　the　stove；　then　turned　to　one　of　the　chefs　Iselda　had　hired。　
　〃Is　that　the　bisque？〃　she　asked。　
　〃Yes；　ma'am；〃　the　Chinese　chef　answered。　
　Strutting　over　to　the　stove；　she　removed　the　lid　and　smelled。　〃Spoon；　please。〃　
　The　chef　handed　her　a　spoon　and　she　tasted　the　soup。　
　〃Seems　light　on　the　lobster；〃　she　said。　
　〃I'll　add　more；〃　the　chef　said。　
　〃Good；　good；〃　Ross　said。　〃If　Mr。　Ho　needs　me；　I'll　be　out　back。　Let　me　know　when　you　bake　the　first　shrimp　puffsI　want　to　sample　them。〃　
　〃Very　good；〃　the　chef　said　as　Ross　headed　through　the　rear　door　leading　to　the　grounds。　
　As　soon　as　she　was　spotted　leaving　the　house；　the　caterer　in　charge　of　the　libations　walked　toward　her。　He　paused　and　stared。　
　〃You　look　particularly　lovely　today；　Miss　Iselda；〃　he　said。　
　〃Flattery　will　get　you　zilch；〃　Ross　said。　〃Do　you　have　everything　ready？〃　
　〃Except　for　that　one　thing　we　spoke　about　yesterday；〃　the　caterer　said。　
　Damn；　Ross　thought。　
　〃What　thing？〃　Ross　said。　〃I　can't　be　expected　to　remember　everything。〃　
　〃The　glacier　ice；〃　the　caterer　said。　〃It　will　be　here　in　another　hour　or　so。〃　
　〃Good；　good；〃　Ross　said。　〃Now　make　sure　all　the　glassware　is　polished。〃　
　She　hurried　away　to　where　a　chef　with　an　electric　chain　saw　was　cutting　an　ice　sculpture。　
　The　caterer　shook　his　head　at　the　exchange。　Her　demeanor　was　the　same；　but　the　caterer　could　swear　that　the　mole　on　Iselda's　cheek　was　a　few　inches　lower。　He　banished　the　thought　and　went　to　check　the　glasses。　
　Ross　crushed　her　cigarette　out　under　her　high　heel。　Her　head　was　spinning　from　all　the　smoking；　and　she　paused　and　took　a　few　deep　breaths。　〃More　detail　on　the　wings；〃　she　said　to　the　chef；　who　nodded　and　continued　working。　A　tall　man　walked　past　carrying　several　stacked　chairs。　He　smiled　and　winked。　
　High　in　a　hickory　tree　on　the　property；　a　Corporation　employee　dressed　in　a　ghillie　suit　that　blended　into　the　leaves　keyed　a　microphone　and　spoke。　
　〃Linda's　in　and　working；〃　he　said　quietly。　
　
　STANLEY　HO　WAS　standing　in　his　top…floor　office　staring　down　at　the　party　preparations。　He　had　seen　Iselda　walk　onto　the　yard；　but　the　last　thing　he　wanted　to　do　was　talk　to　her。　The　butch　Portuguese　woman　annoyed　Hoshe　was　good　at　what　she　did；　but　she　took　herself　much　too　seriously。　This　was　a　party；　after　all；　not　a　Broadway　musical。　From　past　experience；　Ho　realized　that　a　few　hours　from　now　most　of　the　guests　he　had　invited　would　be　so　inebriated　that　if　he　served　rat　as　an　entree；　most　wouldn't　even　notice。　
　Ho　was　more　concerned　by　the　insurance　adjuster　who　was　due　to　arrive。　
　That　and　the　fact　that　on　the　history　of　the　Golden　Buddha　he　had　missioned；　the　historian　had　noted　that　the　icon　supposedly　had　a　secret　storage　partment　Ho　had　yet　to　find。　It　was　a　minor　detail；　but　it　bugged　him　nonetheless。　The　insurance　adjuster　was　apparently　an　expert　in　ancient　Asian　art。　Ho　figured　he'd　question　him　when　he　arrived　and　see　if　he　could　supply　the　answer。　
　If　not；　Spenser　would　be　here　soon　and　Ho　could　ask　him　about　it。　
　
　RICHARD　TRUITT　DROVE　the　rental　car　carefully　up　Praia　Grande　JL　Vjo　the　gate　of　the　mansion；　then　stopped。　Rolling　down　the　window；　he　handed　the　guard　his　invitation。　
　〃Let　me　call　the　house；〃　the　guard　said。　
　Dialing　Ho's　extension；　the　guard　waited。　
　〃Mr。　Ho；〃　the　guard　said；　〃there's　a　Mr。　Samuelson　from　the　insurance　pany　here。〃　
　That　wasn't　who　he'd　been　dealing　with；　Ho　thought。　
　〃Go　ahead　and　let　him　in；〃　Ho　said；　〃and　have　him　wait　downstairs。〃　
　Then　he　hung　up　and　dialed　another　number。　
　〃Go　on　in；〃　the　guard　said。　〃Park　by　the　garage　and　wait　downstairs。〃　
　Ho　tapped　his　finger　on　the　desk　while　the　telephone　rang。　
　〃Lassiter　residence；〃　a　voice　with　a　Cantonese　accent　answered。　
　〃This　is　Stanley　Ho。　Is　Mr。　Lassiter　available？〃　
　〃Mr。　Lassiter　sick；〃　the　voice　said。　〃Doctor　ing　soon。〃　
　〃Did　he　leave　any　message　if　I　called？〃　Ho　asked。　
　〃Hold　on；〃　the　voice　said。　
　Ho　waited　a　few　minutes；　then　a　croaking　voice　came　on　the　line。　
　〃Sorry；　old　bean；〃　the　voice　sputtered；　〃I've　taken　ill。　A　Mr。　Samuelson　from　our　main　office　was　in　town。　He'll　keep　the　appointment　as　scheduled。〃　
　Lassiter　didn't　sound　anything　li