“That's true,” acknowledged Pitt. “When Shang's operations are examined at first glance they appear to be conceived by a genius with a flair for sorcery, but tear away the veneer and you find a logical exercise. He has a valid function for the ship, you can bet on it.”
Sandecker pulled the throttle lever another notch and increased the speed of the whaleboat. “So we're no closer to a solution than we were two weeks ago.”
“Except for my personal theory that Shang intends to scuttle her,” said Pitt.
Sandecker looked dubious. “Why scuttle a perfectly good ocean liner after he spent millions refitting her?”
“I don't have an answer,” Pitt admitted.
“That's what I want you to find out. Take care of your immediate affairs and sign out a NUMA jet to fly yourselves to Morgan City. I'll call Rudi and tell him you're coming.”
“Now that we're working without an endorsement from the INS and other investigative agencies, how far can we go with this thing?” Pitt asked.
“Do whatever it takes without getting yourselves killed,” responded Sandecker firmly. “I'll be responsible and answer for your actions once Monroe and Harper get wise that we haven't stumbled off into the fog and gone home like good little boys.”
Pitt studied Sandecker. “Why are you doing this, Admiral? Why are you jeopardizing your job as head of NUMA to stop Qin Shang?”
The admiral stared back at Pitt astutely. “You and Al were going to go behind my back and keep dogging Qin Shang anyway. Am I right?”
Giordino shrugged. “Yes, I guess you are.”
“The instant Dirk played the cowardly lion and timidly submitted to Monroe's demand that you go to a safe house, I knew damned well you were going to jump ship. I'm only bowing to the inevitable.”
Pitt had long ago become a shrewd judge of Sandecker's character. “Not you, Admiral. You never bow to anything or anybody.”
The fire in Sandecker's eyes blazed for a moment, then j smoldered. “If you must know, those spooks around the table pissed me off so bad that I'm counting on both of you and Rudi Gunn and every resource at NUMA to take out Qin Shang before they do.”
“We're up against some pretty heavy competition,” said Pitt.
“Maybe,” said Sandecker, his eyes becoming urgent, commanding. “But Qin Shang Maritime operates on water, and that's where we have the advantage.”
After the meeting broke up, Harper escorted Julia to his office and closed the door. When she was seated he came around and sat down behind his desk. “Julia, I have a tough assignment for you. Strictly on a volunteer basis. I'm not sure you're quite up to it just yet.”
Julia's interest was piqued. “It won't hurt to give me a rundown.”
Harper handed her a file folder. She opened it and examined a photograph of a woman her own age who was facing the camera with a blank expression on her face. Except for a scar on her chin, she and Julia could have passed for sisters. “Her name is Lin Wan Chu. She grew up on a farm in Jiangsu Province and ran away when her father wanted her to marry a man old enough to be her grandfather. After finding work in the kitchen of a restaurant hi the port Qingdao, she eventually became a chef. Two years ago she signed on as a cook with Qin Shang Maritime and has since crewed on a container ship called the Sung Lien Star,”
Julia turned to a dossier on the woman and noted that it came from the CIA. She began reading as Harper sat back silently until she finished. “There is a definite resemblance,” said Julia. “We're the same height and weight. I'm only four months older than Lin Wan Chu.” She kept the file open in her lap and stared across the desk at Harper. “You want me to take her place? Is that the assignment?”
He nodded. “It is.”
“My ID was made on the Indigo Star. Thanks to a double agent on Qin Shang's payroll, his security people have a file on me a mile long.”
“The FBI thinks they have a prime suspect and are maintaining surveillance on him.”
“I don't see how I could take Lin Wan Chu's identity and not be caught,” Julia said solemnly. “Especially during a long voyage.”
“You only have to be Lin Wan Chu for four, maybe five, hours at the most. Just enough time to slip into the ship's routine and hopefully discover how Qin Shang is smuggling his illegal cargo of immigrants onto land.”
“You know for a fact the Sung Lien Star has aliens hidden on board?”
“A CIA undercover agent in Qingdao reported that he observed over a hundred men, women and children with luggage being unloaded from buses in the dead of night who were herded into a warehouse on the dock beside the ship. Two hours later, the Sung Lien Star sailed. At daylight, the agent found the warehouse empty. A hundred-some-odd people had mysteriously disappeared.”
“And he thinks they were smuggled on board the ship?”
“The Star is a large container ship with the capacity to hide a hundred warm bodies, and its destination is the port of Sun-gari in Louisiana. There seems little doubt that she's another one of Qin Shang's illegal-immigrant smuggling vessels.”
“They make me this time,” said Julia seriously, “and I'll be shark bait in less time than it takes to tell about it.”
“The risk is not as high as you think,” Harper assured her. “You won't be working alone like you did on the Indigo Star. You'll carry a concealed radio and be monitored every minute. Backup will be no less than a mile away.”
When it came to daring the unknown, Julia was as fearless as any man, more so than most. Her adrenaline was already rising at the thought of walking a tightrope.
“There is one problem,” she said quietly.
“What is that?”
A little grimace twisted the shapely red mouth. “My mother and father taught me gourmet cooking. I've never prepared basic slop in quantity before.”
THE MORNING WAS BRIGHT WITH A HIGH CLEAR SKY FLECKED by small cloud puffs scattered about like popcorn spilled on a blue carpet as Pitt leveled out the little Skyfox flying boat and flew over the terminal buildings and docks of Sungari. He circled and made several passes, skimming less than a hundred feet above the tops of the big cranes that were lifting wooden cargo crates from the holds of the only freighter moored along an otherwise deserted dock. The merchant ship was sandwiched between the dock and a barge with a towboat.
“Must be a slow business day,” observed Giordino from the copilot's seat.
“One ship offloading cargo at a port facility built to handle an entire fleet,” said Pitt.
“Qin Shang Maritime Limited's profit-and-loss ledger must be awash in red ink.”
“What do you make of the barge?” asked Pitt.
“Looks like trash day. The crew appears to be throwing plastic sacks over the side into the barge.”
“See any signs of security?”
“The place sits in the middle of a swamp,” said Giordino staring down into the surrounding marshlands. “The only duty for security guards would be to shoo off itinerant alligators, which I hear are hunted around these parts.”
“A big business,” Pitt said. “Their skins are used for shoes, boots and purses. Hopefully, laws will be passed to restrict the alligator killing long before they become an endangered species.”
“That tugboat and garbage barge are beginning to pull away from the hull of the freighter. Make a swing over them when they get into open water.”
“Not tugboat, you mean towboat.”
“A misnomer. Why call them towboats when they push instead of pull barges through inland waterways?”
“A collection of connecting barges is called a tow, hence, towboat.”
“They should be called pushboats,” Giordino grumbled.
“I'll take your suggestion up at the next river pilot's annual high-water ball. Maybe they'll give you a free pass on a ferryboat.”
“I already get one of those every time I buy ten gallons of gas.”
“Coming around.” Pitt tilted the control column slightly, banking the Lockheed Skyfox two-seater jet aircraft and leveling out for a few hundred yards before flying over the five-story-high towboat with its square bow burrowed against the stern of a single barge. A man stepped from the towboat's wheelhouse and furiously motioned the aircraft away. As the Skyfox skimmed over the towboat, Giordino caught a quick glimpse of a dirty, unfriendly look on a face that harbored suspicions.