“Well,” said Monroe to Pitt, “I understand you and Ms. Lee had an interesting evening.” The tone of his voice strongly suggested a double meaning.

“Harrowing would be closer to the truth,” Julia answered quickly, prim and proper in a white blouse and blue business suit with the skirt cut just above her shapely knees.

Pitt stared evenly at Harper. “Things might have gone smoother if our hired bodyguards hadn't tried to send us to the morgue.”

“I deeply regret the incident,” said Harper seriously. “But circumstances went beyond our control.”

Pitt noticed that Harper looked far from sheepish. “I'd be interested in knowing the circumstances,” he came back coldly.

“The four men Peter hired to protect you and Ms. Lee were murdered,” revealed Davis of the FBI. A tall man who sat half a head above the other men around the table, he had the eyes of a Saint Bernard that had just come across a garbage can behind a barbecue-steak restaurant.

“Oh God,” murmured Julia. “All four?”

“Because then” concentration was focused on observing Mr. Perlmutter's residence they left themselves vulnerable for an assault."

“I regret their deaths,” said Pitt. “But it doesn't sound like they operated as true professionals.”

Monroe cleared his throat. “A full investigation is under way, of course. Initial analysis suggests that they were approached and murdered by Qin Shang's men, who posed as city police officers checking on reports of suspicious behavior in the neighborhood.”

“You have witnesses?”

Davis nodded. “A neighbor across the street from Mr. Perlmutter reported seeing a patrol car and four uniformed officers entering the vans and driving them away.”

“After shooting the bodyguards with silenced weapons,” Harper added.

Pitt looked at Harper. “Can you identify the men who attacked me at the hangar?”

Harper glanced at Davis, who turned up his palms in a dismayed gesture. “It seems their bodies disappeared on the way to the morgue.”

“How is that possible?” demanded Sandecker explosively.

“Don't tell me,” Giordino said sarcastically, “an investigation is under way.”

“That goes without saying,” replied Davis. “All we know is that they went missing after being unloaded from the ambulances at the morgue. We were lucky, however, in obtaining a make on one of your assassins when a paramedic pulled off a glove so he could try for a pulse. The corpse's hand lay flat on your polished hangar floor and left a set of three fingerprints. The Russians identified the killer for us as a Pavel Gavrovich, a former high-level Defense Ministry agent and assassin. For a marine engineer with NUMA to take out a professional hit man, Mr. Pitt, a man who had killed at least twenty-two people that we know of, is a polished achievement.”

“Professional or not,” said Pitt quietly, “Gavrovich made the mistake of underestimating his prey.”

“I find it incredible that Qin Shang can make fools of the entire United States government with such ease,” said San-decker acidly.

Pitt sat back and stared down as if seeing something beneath the surface of the conference table. “He couldn't. Not unless he had inside help from the Justice Department and other agencies of the federal government.”

Wilbur Hill of the CIA spoke for the first time. He was a blond man with a mustache, the pale blue eyes set widely apart, as if he could observe movements off to his sides. “I'll likely get into trouble for saying this, but we have strong suspicions that Qin Shang's influence reaches into the White House.”

“As we speak,” said Davis, “a congressional committee and Justice Department prosecutors are looking into tens of millions of dollars in fraudulent contributions by the People's Republic of China that were funneled into the President's future election campaign through Qin Shang.”

“When we met with the President,” said Sandecker, “he spoke as if the Chinese were the greatest scourge on the country since the Civil War. Now you tell me his fingers are in Qin Shang's wallet.”

“There is simply no underestimating the morals of a politician,” Giordino said with a sardonic twist of his lips.

“Be that as it may,” Monroe said gravely, “political ethics are not the job of INS. Our primary concern at the moment is with the huge numbers of illegal Chinese aliens that are being smuggled into the country by Qin Shang Maritime Limited before being killed or enslaved by criminal syndicates.”

“Commissioner Monroe is quite correct,” said Harper. “The duty of INS is to plug the flow, not prosecute murders.”

“I can't speak for Mr. Hill and the CIA,” said Davis, “but the Bureau has been heavily involved with investigating Qin Shang's domestic crimes against the American people for three years.”

“Our inquiries, on the other hand, are focused more on his overseas operations,” offered CIA's Hill.

“An uphill battle on any front,” said Pitt thoughtfully. “If Shang has forces within our own government working against your efforts, it will make all your jobs that much tougher.”

“Nobody here thinks it will be a piece of cake,” said Mon-roe formally.

Julia jumped in. “Aren't we overlooking the fact that besides being an international body smuggler, Qin Shang is a mass murderer. I experienced his ruthlessness firsthand. There is no counting the untold numbers of innocent people and children who lie dead because of his greed. The atrocities his henchmen have committed under his direction are hideous and monstrous. He deals in crimes against humanity. We must put an end to the slaughter, and quickly.”

For a long moment no one said a word. Every man at the table knew of the horrors Julia had witnessed and suffered. Finally, Monroe broke the silence.

“We all understand your feelings, Ms. Lee, but all of us are working under laws and regulations that must be followed. I promise you that every possible effort is being made to stop Qin Shang. As long as I am at the helm of the INS, we won't rest until his operation is destroyed and he is arrested and convicted.”

“I can safely say that goes for Mr. Hill and myself as well,” added Davis.

“Not good enough,” said Pitt quietly, turning every head.

“You doubt our resolve?” asked Monroe indignantly.

“No, but I totally disagree with your methods.”

“Government policy dictates our actions,” Davis said. “All of us must work under guidelines set by the American justice system.”

Pitt's face went dark as a midnight sky. “I saw for myself a sea of dead on the bottom of Orion Lake. I saw the poor wretched souls locked up in cells. Four men died protecting Julia and me—”

“I know what you're driving at, Mr. Pitt,” said Davis. “But we have no evidence directly linking Qin Shang to those crimes. Certainly not enough to call for an indictment.”

“The man is shrewd,” said Harper. “He's shielded himself from direct involvement. Without solid proof that he is in some way responsible, we can't nail him.”

“If he's laughed in your face every step of the way,” said Pitt, “what makes you think he's going to suddenly play dumb and fall into your waiting arms?”

“No man can defy the far-reaching investigative powers of our government indefinitely,” said Hill earnestly. “I promise you that he will be tried, convicted and sentenced quite soon.”

“The man is a foreign national,” said Sandecker. “You arrest him anywhere in the United States and the Chinese government will raise every kind of hell with the White House and State Department. Boycotts, sanctions on trade goods, you name it. No way are they going to let you take their fair-haired boy out of circulation.”

“The way I see it, Mr. Hill,” said Giordino, “you whistle up one of your CIA hit squads and eliminate Shang neatly and cleanly. Problem solved.”

“Despite what many think, the CIA does not do assassinations,” said Hill testily.