cc.goldenbuddha-第1节

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　A　few　years　ago；　while　I　was　writing　Flood　Tide；　I　realized　that　Dirk　Pitt　needed　some　help　on　a　particular　assignment；　and　so　I　dreamed　up　Juan　Cabrillo。　
　Cabrillo　ran　a　ship　called　the　Oregon；　on　the　outside　pletely　nondescript；　but　on　the　inside　packed　with　state…of…the…art　intelligence…gathering　equipment。　It　was　a　pletely　private　enterprise；　available　for　any　government　agency　that　could　afford　it。　It　went　where　no　warship　could　go；　transported　secret　cargo　without　suspicion；　plucked　data　out　of　the　airit　was　the　perfect　plement　to　NUMA。　
　In　fact；　I　had　so　much　fun　writing　about　the　Oregon　and　its　rakish；　one…legged　chief　that　I　was　sorry　to　see　it　sail　off　when　its　task　was　done。　I　promised　myself　I'd　find　a　way　to　bring　them　back　some　day　and　here；　I　am　pleased　to　say；　they　are。　Golden　Buddha　is　the　first　in　a　new　series　about　Juan　Cabrillo's　merry　men　（and　women！）；　and　I　hope　you　get　as　much　of　a　kick　reading　about　them　as　I　did　creating　them。　
　And　who　knows；　maybe　some　time　they'll　cross　paths　with　Dirk　Pitt　again。　。　。　。　
　Clive　Cussler　
　
　For　my　brothers　Larry；　Steve；　Cliff　and　John；　and　my　sister；　Dawn；　who　never　let　a　busy　day　get　in　the　way　of　a　good　nap。　
　
　FOREWORD　
　
　Just　so　you　know；　this　is　not　a　Dirk　Pitt　adventure；　nor　a　NUMA　Files…Kurt　Austin　story。　This　book　is　based　on　the　old　tramp　cargo　ship　Oregon　that　I　described　in　the　Pitt　tale　titled　Flood　Tide。　
　Beneath　her　derelict　superstructure　and　rusty　hull；　Oregon　is　a　mechanical　marvel　of　technology　and　scientific　genius。　She　is　crewed　by　a　group　of　highly　educated　and　intelligent　mercenaries　who　function　under　the　myriad　umbrellas　of　a　far…flung　corporate　conglomerate。　They　contract　with　governments；　corporations　and　private　interests　around　the　world　to　fight　corruption　and　challenge　the　sinister　threats　of　rogue　villains　in　the　exotic　ports　of　the　seven　seas。　
　Craig　Dirgo　and　I　worked　together　to　create　an　entirely　new　series　of　adventures　with　a　cast　of　characters　unlike　any　ever　seen　before。　
　I　sincerely　hope　you　will　find　it　an　enjoyable　departure　as　well　as　a　fun　read。　
　Clive　Cussler　
　
　CAST　OF　CHARACTERS　
　THE　CORPORATION　TEAM　
　juan　cabrillo：　Chairman　of　the　Corporation　
　max　hanley：　President　of　the　Corporation　
　richard　truitt：　Vice　President　of　Operations　for　the　Corporation　
　THE　CREW　
　（in　alphabetic　order）　
　george　adams：　Helicopter　Pilot/Operative　
　rick　barrett：　Assistant　Chef/Operative　
　monica　crabtree：　Supply　and　Logistics　Coordinator/Operative　
　carl　gannon：　General　Operations/Operative　
　chuck　〃tiny〃　gunderson：　Chief　Pilot/Operative　
　michael　halpert：　Finance　and　Accounting/Operative　
　cliff　hornsby：　General　Operations/Operative　
　julia　huxley：　Medical　Officer/Operative　
　pete　jones：　General　Operations/Operative　
　hali　kasim：　munications　Expert/Operative　
　larry　king：　Sniper/Operative　
　franklin　lincoln：　General　Operations/Operative　
　bob　meadows：　General　Operations/Operative
　mark　murphy：　Weapons　Specialist/Operative
　kevin　nixon：　Magic　Shop　Specialist/Operative
　sam　pryor：　Propulsion　Engineer/Operative
　gunther　reinholt：　Propulsion　Engineer/Operative
　tom　reyes：　General　Operations/Operative
　linda　ross：　Security　and　Surveillance/Operative
　eddie　seng：　Director　of　Shore　Operations/Operative
　eric　stone：　Control　Room　Operations/Operative　
　
　THE　OTHERS　
　the　dalai　lama：　Spiritual　Leader　of　Tibet　
　hu　jintao：　President　of　China　
　langston　ovERHOLT　iv：　CIA　Officer　who　hires　the　Corporation　to　free　Tibet　
　legchog　zhuren：　Chairman　of　the　Tibet　Autonomous　Region
　sung　rhee：　Chief　Inspector　of　the　Macau　Police
　ling　po：　Detective　with　the　Macau　Police　
　stanley　ho：　Macau　billionaire　and　buyer　of　the　Golden　Buddha
　marcus　friday：　U。S。　software　billionaire　who　agrees　to　buy　stolen　Buddha
　winston　spenser：　Crooked　art　dealer　who　attempts　to　steal　the　Golden　Buddha　
　michael　talbot：　San　Francisco　art　dealer　who　works　for　Friday　
　
　MARCH　31；　1959　
　THE　FLOWERS　SURROUNDING　the　summer　palace　of　Norbulingka　were　closed　but　ready　to　bloom。　The　parklike　setting　of　the　plex　was　beautiful。　High　stone　walls　surrounded　it；　within　the　walls　were　trees　and　lush　gardens；　and　in　the　center　was　a　smaller　yellow　wall；　through　which　only　the　Dalai　Lama；　his　advisors　and　a　few　select　monks　passed。　Here　were　tranquil　pools；　the　home　of　the　Dalai　Lama　and　a　temple　for　prayer。　
　It　was　a　sea　of　order　and　substance　centered　in　a　country　in　chaos。　
　Not　far　away；　perched　on　the　side　of　a　hill；　was　the　imposing　winter　palace　of　Potala。　The　massive　structure　seemed　to　step　down　the　hillside。　Potala　contained　over　one　thousand　rooms；　was　populated　by　hundreds　of　monks　and　dated　from　centuries　before。　There　was　an　imposing　orderliness　to　the　building。　Stone　steps　led　from　the　mid　levels　of　the　seven　story　palace　in　an　orderly　zigzag　downward　and　then　stopped　at　a　gigantic　block　stone　wall　that　formed　the　base　of　the　behemoth。　The　precisely　laid　stones　rose　nearly　eighty　feet　into　the　air。　
　At　the　base　was　a　flat　stretch　of　land　where　tens　of　thousands　of　Tibetans　were　assembled。　The　people；　as　well　as　another　large　group　at　Norbulingka；　had　e　to　protect　their　spiritual　leader。　Unlike　the　hated　Chinese　who　occupied　their　country；　the　peasants　carried　not　rifles　but　knives　and　bows。　Instead　of　artillery；　they　had　only　flesh；　bone　and　spirit。　They　were　outgunned；　but　to　protect　their　leader　they　would　have　gladly　laid　down　their　lives。　
　Their　sacrifice　would　require　but　one　word　from　the　Dalai　Lama。　
　
　
　INSIDE　THE　YELLOW　wall；　the　Dalai　Lama　was　praying　at　the　shrine　to　Mahakala；　his　personal　protector。　The　Chinese　had　offered　to　take　him　to　their　headquarters　for　his　protection；　but　he　knew　that　was　not　their　true　motive。　It　was　the　Chinese　from　whom　he　needed　protection；　and　the　letter　the　Dalai　Lama　had　just　received　from　Ngabo　Ngawang　Jigme；　the　governor　of　Chamdo；　held　a　truer　picture。　After　a　discussion　with　General　Tan；　the　Chinese　military　officer　in　mand　of　the　region；　Jigme　was　certain　the　Chinese　were　planning　to　begin　shelling　the　crowds　to　disperse　them。　
　Once　that　happened；　the　loss　of　life　would　be　horrific。　
　Raising　from　his　knees；　the　Dalai　Lama　walked　over　to　a　table　and　rang　a　bell。　Almost　instantly　the　door　opened　and　the　head　of　the　Kusun　Depon；　the　Dalai　Lama's　personal　bodyguards；　appeared。　Through　the　open　door　he　could　see　several　Sing　Gha　warriors。　The　monastic　policemen　lent　a　terrifying　presence。　Each　was　over　six　feet　tall；　wore　a　fearsome　mustache；　and　was　dressed　in　a　black　padded　suit　that　made　them　appear　even　larger　and　more　invincible。　
　Several　Dogkhyi；　the　fierce　Tibetan　mastiff　guard　dogs；　stood　on　their　haunches　at　attention。　
　〃Please　summon　the　oracle；〃　the　Dalai　Lama　said　quietly。　
　
　FROM　HIS　HOUSE　in　Lhasa；　Langston　Overholt　III　was　monitoring　the　deteriorating　conditions。　He　stood　alongside　the　radio　operator　as　the　man　adjusted　the　dial。　
　〃Situation　critical；　over。〃　
　The　radio　operator　turned　the　dial　to　reduce　the　static。　
　〃Believe　red　rooster　will　enter　the　henhouse；　over。〃　
　The　operator　watched　the　gauges　carefully。　
　〃Need　immediate　positive　support；　over。〃　
　Again　a　lag　as　the　operator　adjusted　the　dial。　
　〃I　remend　eagles　and　camels；　over。〃　
　The　man　stood　mute　as　the　radio　warbled　and　the　green　gauges　returned　to　a　series　of　wavelike　motions。　The　words　were　out　in　the　ether　now；　the　rest　was　out　of　their　control。　Overholt　wanted　airplanes　and　he　wanted　them　now。　
　
　
　THE　ORACLE；　DORJE　Drakden；　was　deep　in　a　trance。　The　setting　sun　came　through　the　small　window　high　on　the　wall　of　the　temple　and　cast　a　path　of　light　that　ended　at　an　incense　holder。　The　wisps　of　smoke　danced　on　the　beam　of　light　and　a　strange；　almost　cinnamon　smell　filled　the　air。　The　Dalai　Lama　sat　cross…legged　on　a　pillow　against　a　wall　a　few　feet　from　Drakden；　who　was　hunched　over；　knees　down；　with　his　forehead　on　the　wood　floor。　Suddenly；　in　a　deep　voice；　the　oracle　spoke。　
　〃Leave　tonight！　Go。〃　
　Then；　still　with　his　eyes　closed；　still　in　a　trance；　he　rose；　walked　over　to　a　table　and　stopped　exactly　one　foot　away。　Then　he　reached　down；　picked　up　a　quill　pen；　dipped　it　in　ink　and　drew　a　detailed　map　on　a　sheet　of　paper　before　collapsing　to　the　ground。　
　The　Dalai　Lama　rushed　to　the　oracle's　side；　lifted　his　head　and　patted　his　cheek。　Slowly；　the　man　began　to　awaken。　After　sliding　a　pillow　under　his　head；　the　Dalai　Lama　rose　and　poured　a　cup　of　water　from　an　earthenware　pitcher。　Carrying　the　cup　back　to　the　oracle；　he　placed　it　under　his　lips。　
　〃Sip；　Dorje；〃　he　said　quietly。　
　Slowly；　the　older　man　recovered　and　pulled　himself　to　a　seated　position。　As　soon　as　the　Dalai　Lama　was　sure　the　oracle　was　on　the　mend；　he　walked　over　to　the　table　and　stared　at　the　ink　drawing。　
　It　was　a　detailed　map　showing　his　escape　route　from　Lhasa　to　the　Indian　border。　
　
　
　OVERHOLT　HAD　BEEN　born　into　his　career。　At　least　one　Overholt　had　served　in　every　war　the　United　States　had　fought　since　the　Revolutionary　War。　His　grandfather　had　been　a　spy　in　the　Civil　War；　his　father　during　World　War　I；　and　Langston　the　third　had　served　in　the　OSS　in　World　War　II　before　switching　to　the　CIA