Gunn held up a pitcher and a glass. “Can I interest you in a glass of iced tea?”
“You wouldn't happen to have a bottle of bourbon lying about?”
Gunn smiled. “Admiral Sandecker follows Navy tradition and has a rule against alcohol on board NUMA research vessels. However, in honor of your presence, I do believe a bottle of Jack Daniels' Black Label whiskey somehow slipped on board.”
“You, sir, are a saint,” said Montaigne, his eyes gleaming in anticipation.
Gunn poured a glass. “Ice?”
“Never!” Montaigne held up the glass and studied the amber contents, then sniffed the aroma as if pondering a fine wine before sipping it. “Because nothing suspicious was observed above ground, I was told at my briefing that you're going to try your luck with an underwater search.”
Gunn nodded. “I'm sending in an autonomous underwater vehicle for an exploratory search first thing in the morning. If anything questionable is recorded by its cameras, divers will investigate.”
“The water is murky and running with silt, so I doubt if you'll see much.”
“With high resolution and digital enhancement, our cameras can distinguish objects in murky water up to twenty feet. My only concern is Qin Shang's underwater security.”
Montaigne laughed. “If it's anything like the security around the port,” Montaigne said with a chuckle, “you can forget it. A ten-foot-high fence runs around the perimeter, but there is only one gate that leads to nowhere in the swamp with no guard. Any passing vessel, especially fishing boats out of Morgan City, are welcome to tie up at a dock. And there is an excellent helicopter landing pad with a small terminal building on the north end. I never heard of Shang's security turning away anybody who dropped in for a guided tour. They go out of their way to make the place accessible.”
“Definitely not your ordinary Qin Shang operation.”
“So I've been told.”
“As a port,” Gunn continued, “Sungari must have offices for customs and immigration agents?”
Montaigne laughed. “Like the Maytag man, they're the loneliest men in town.”
“Dammit!” Gunn abruptly burst. “This has to be a gigantic scam. Qin Shang built Sungari to conduct criminal activities. I'd stake my government pension on it.”
“If it was me, and my aim was to conduct an illegal operation, I'd have never designed the port to stand out like a Las Vegas casino.”
“Nor I,” Gunn conceded.
“There was, come to think of it,” Montaigne said thoughtfully, “an odd bit of construction that puzzled inspecting engineers.”
“What was that?”
“Shang's contractor built the upper level of their docks a good thirty feet higher than necessary from the water's surface. Instead of walking down a gangway to the dock from the deck of a ship, you actually have to negotiate a slight incline.”
“Could it be insurance against hurricane tides or a hundred-year flood down the river?”
“Yes, but they magnified the threat,” explained Montaigne. “Oh sure, there have been flood stages on the Mississippi that have reached huge heights, but not on the Atchafalaya. Ground level at Sungari was raised to a level far beyond anything that nature could throw at it.”
“Qin Shang wouldn't be where he is by gambling with the elements.”
“I suppose you're right.” Montaigne finished off the Jack Daniels. He waved a hand at the image of Sungari. “So there it sits, a grand edifice to one man's ego. Look across the water. Two ships in a port built to take a hundred. Is that any way to run a profitable business?”
“No way that I'm aware of,” said Gunn.
The general rose to his feet. “I should be on my way. It'll be dark soon. I think I'll instruct my pilot to go upriver to Morgan City and tie up there for the night before heading back to New Orleans.”
“Thank you, General,” Gunn said sincerely. “I appreciate you taking the time to see me. Please don't be a stranger.”
“Not at all,” Montaigne replied jovially. “Now that I know where to go for a free shot of good whiskey, rest assured, you'll see me again. And good luck on your investigation. Anytime you require the services of the Corps, you have but to call me.”
“Thank you, I will.”
Long after General Montaigne returned to his survey boat, Gunn sat staring at the holographic image of Sungari, his mind seeking answers that never revealed themselves.
“If you're worried about their security hassling us,” said Frank Stewart, captain of the Marine Denizen, “we can conduct our survey from the middle of the river. They may own the buildings and land on both sides of the Atchafalaya, but free passage between the Gulf and Morgan City is guaranteed under maritime law.”
Stewart, with brown hair cut short and slickly combed with a precision part on the right side, was a mariner from the old school. He still shot the sun with his sextant and figured latitude and longitude the old-fashioned way when a quick scan of his geophysical positioning system could tell him within a yard of where he was standing. Slim and tall with deep-set blue eyes, he was a man without a wife whose mistress was the sea.
Gunn stood beside the helm, staring through the wheelhouse windows at the deserted port. “We'd look as obvious as a wart on a movie star's nose if we anchored in the river between their docks and warehouses. General Montaigne said that security around Sungari was no heavier than any other port facility on the East and West coasts. If he's right, I see no reason to play cagey. Let's simply call the port master and request dock space to make repairs, and work in their backyard.”
Stewart nodded and hailed the port master over a satellite phone, which had all but replaced ship-to-shore radio. “This is NUMA research ship Marine Denizen. We request dock space to make repairs to our rudder.”
The port master was most congenial. He gave his name as Henry Pang and readily gave permission. “Sure, maintain your position and I'll send a boat to lead you to dock seventeen, where you can tie up. If there's one thing we've got, it's vacant moorings.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pang,” acknowledged Stewart.
“You guys looking for weird fish?” asked Pang.
“No, we're studying Gulf currents. We bumped over an unmarked shoal off the coast and damaged our rudder. It responds but not to its full arc.”
“Enjoy your stay,” said Pang politely. “If you need a marine mechanic or parts, please let me know.”
“Thank you,” said Stewart. “Standing by for your guide boat.”
“General Montaigne was right,” said Gunn. “So much for tight security.”
A rainsquall rolled in and out during the night, leaving the decks of the Marine Denizen gleaming under the rising sun. Stewart had two of his crew lowered on a small platform over the rudder to act as though they were making repairs. The performance hardly seemed necessary. The docks and cranes were as dead as a football stadium in the middle of the week. Both of the Chinese cargo ships Gunn had observed the evening before had slipped out during the night. The Marine Denizen had the entire port to herself.
Inside the center section of the Denizen's hull was a cavernous compartment called the moon pool. Two sliding divisions parted like horizontal elevator doors, allowing water to flow inside the moon pool until it leveled out after rising six feet. This was the heart of the research vessel, where divers could freely enter the water without being knocked about by waves, where submersibles could be lowered to explore the depths, and where scientific equipment that monitored and captured sea life could be raised for study in the ship's labs.
Lulled by the cemetery-like atmosphere of Sungari, the crew and scientists ate a leisurely breakfast before gathering around the work platforms in the moon pool. A Benthos autonomous underwater vehicle hung in a cradle over the water. This vehicle was three times the size of the compact AUV that Pitt used at Orion Lake. A rugged, streamlined unit with two horizontal thrusters, it could move at speeds up to five knots. The imagery equipment consisted of a Benthos video camera with low-light sensitivity and high resolution. The AUV also featured a digital still camera and a ground-penetrating radar unit that could detect a void through the steel casings, indicating a passage. A diver, wearing a wet suit purely as protection against jellyfish, lazily floated on his back while he waited for the AUV to be lowered.