Cabrillo scanned the stern of the United States and the end of the dock for witnesses. He counted no more than three or four shipyard workers who had paused to watch the activity on the two boats. None appeared unduly concerned. The cabin on the security cruiser had blocked off most of the view the workers had from the dock and the liner. As far as they could see, it looked like a normal investigation by the security force. All they could see was Cabrillo's crew still dozing and fishing off the stern of the launch. The shipyard workers soon returned to their jobs, showing no signs of alarm.
James and Meadows climbed back on board and, along with Eddie Seng, quickly stripped the security commander and two of his men of their clothes. A few minutes later all three reappeared on deck wearing the security guards' uniforms.
“Not a bad fit,” said Eddie, modeling his damp attire for Cabrillo, “considering that the suit is soaking wet. ”
“Mine is about four sizes too small,” grumbled Meadows, who was a big man.
“Join the club,” said James, holding out an arm and demonstrating a sleeve that barely passed the elbow.
“You don't have to walk down the runway at a fashion show,” said Cabrillo while jockeying the launch next to the security boat. “Jump over and take the helm. As soon as we've got the submersible under tow, follow along in our wake as though you were escorting us to the Hong Kong Harbor Patrol dock. Once we're out of sight of Qin Shang's shipyard, we'll cruise around until dark. Then we'll head back to the Oregon and scuttle the security boat.”
“What about the five drenched rats in the hold?” asked Seng.
Cabrillo turned from the helm and leered. “We'll enjoy seeing the expressions on their faces when they wake up and find they've been abandoned on an island off the Philippines.”
Not having enough oxygen supply to remain underwater, the Sea Dog II was towed on the surface with the upper hatch partially open. Pitt and Giordino remained inside while the security boat cruised alongside and screened any view of it from passing ships and shore. Thirty minutes later the Sea Dog II was quickly lifted back onto the deck of the Oregon. Cabrillo was there to help Pitt and Giordino out of the submersible. With muscles stiff and numb from the many hours of tight confinement, they were grateful for his help.
“I apologize for leaving you cooped up like that, but as you know, we ran into a little difficulty.”
“And you handled it very well,” Pitt complimented him.
“You boys did a pretty fair job of fighting off the bad guys yourselves.”
“We'd still be sitting on the bottom if you hadn't lobbed those grenades.”
“What did you find?” asked Cabrillo.
Pitt shook his head wearily. “Nothing, absolutely nothing. The hull below the waterline is clean, no modifications, no concealed hatches or pressurized doors. The bottom has been scraped and recoated with antifouling paint and looks as unaltered as the day she was launched. If Qin Shang has a shifty method of slipping illegal aliens ashore in a foreign port, it's not from below the waterline.”
“So where does that leave us?”
Pitt gave Cabrillo a steady look. “We've got to get inside the ship. Can you manage it?”
“As the resident whiz, yes, I believe I can arrange a guided tour of the ship's interior. But consider this. One, maybe two hours from now is all we have before the security guards we kidnapped are discovered as missing. The chief of Qin Shang's shipyard security will put two and two together and figure the intruders came from the Oregon. No doubt he's already wondering how and why ten of his divers went missing. Once he alerts the Chinese Navy they'll come after us as sure as women bear babies. With a head start the Oregon can outdistance most any ship in the Chinese fleet. If they send planes after us before we can get out of their territorial waters, we're dead.”
“You're well armed,” said Giordino.
Cabrillo tightened his lips. “But not immune to warships with heavy guns and aircraft with missiles. The sooner we get the hell out of Hong Kong and onto the high seas, the safer we'll be.”
“Then you're pulling up anchor and skipping town,” said Pitt.
“I didn't say that.” Cabrillo looked over at Seng, who had thankfully changed into dry clothes. "What say you, Eddie?
Do you want to put the uniform of a Qin Shang security chief back on and parade around the shipyard like a big man on campus?
Seng grinned. “I've always wanted to tour the inside of a big cruise ship without paying for a ticket.”
“Then it's settled,” said Cabrillo directly to Pitt “Go now bee what you have to see and get back here fast, or we'll all regret not knowing our grandchildren.”
“DON'T YOU THINK WE'RE OVERDOING IT A BIT?” SAID PITT less than an hour later.
Seng shrugged behind the wheel on the right-hand side of the driver's seat. “Who would suspect spies arriving at a security gate in a Rolls-Royce?” he asked innocently.
“Anyone who does doesn't suffer from glaucoma or cataracts,” Giordino said wearily.
A collector of old classic cars, Pitt appreciated the fine workmanship of the Rolls. “Chairman of the Board Cabrillo is an amazing man.”
“The best scrounger in the business,” said Seng as he braked to a stop beside the main guard gate in front of the Qin Shang Maritime Limited shipyard. “He made a deal with the concierge of Hong Kong's finest five star hotel. They use the limo to pick up and deliver celebrity guests to the airport.”
The late-afternoon sun was still perched above the horizon when two guards came out of the security shack to stare at the 1955 Rolls-Royce Silver Dawn with Hooper coachwork. The elegant body lines exemplified the classic “razor edge” saloon style that was popular with British coach-built cars in the 1950s. The front fenders gracefully swooped downward across
the four doors to the skirted fenders at the rear, matching the sloping rear roof and trunk known as the “French curve” that was copied by Cadillac in the early eighties.
Seng flashed the identification he'd taken from the captain of the security boat. Though the two men could have passed for cousins, he did not allow the guards to study the photo on the ID card too closely. “Han Wan-Tzu, captain of the dockside security,” he announced in Chinese.
One of the guards leaned in the rear window and peered at the two passengers in the rear seat who were wearing conservative blue pinstripe business suits. His eyes slightly narrowed. “Who is with you?”
“Their names are Karl Mahler and Erich Grosse. They are respected marine engineers with the German shipbuilding firm of Voss and Heibert, here to inspect and consult on the turbine engines of the great ocean liner.”
“I don't see them on the security list,” said the guard, checking names on a clipboard.
“These gentlemen are here at the personal request of Qin Shang. If you have a problem with that, you can call him. Would you like his direct and personal number?”
“No, no,” the .guard stammered. “Since you accompany them, their entry must have been cleared.”
“Contact no one,” Seng ordered. “The services of these men are required immediately and their presence here is a closely guarded secret. Do you understand?”
The guard nodded fervently, backed away from the car, lifted the barrier and waved them through onto a road leading to the dock area. Seng steered the luxurious old car past several warehouses and parts depots and under tall gantries arched over the skeletons of ships under construction. He had little problem finding the United States. Her funnels towered over nearby terminal buildings. The Rolls came to a silent halt at one of the many gangways that led up and into the hull of the ship. The ship appeared strangely lifeless. There were no crewmen, shipyard workers or security guards anywhere to be seen. The gangways were deserted and unguarded.