Liu’s mood abruptly soured, and after dismissing the radio officer, he returned to the railing. Below, the deck crew was readying the mooring lines, and he absently watched their efforts, his inner thoughts a world away.
The young fooclass="underline" so anxious to become an accepted world player, he was now on the verge of wasting the sacrifices of so many thousands who had died to unite the motherland. Sickened by this thought, Liu found his optimism clouded by a single doubt: despite all their recent successes, what if the operation wasn’t successful? So much effort had already been expended to put this complicated plan into action that failure could mean the end of the People’s Republic of China, with a lifetime of selfless toil on his part all in vain.
9
Midnight found Vince Kellogg standing on the QE2’s Bridge. With exacting precision, the last mooring lines were cast off, and with the assistance of a trio of powerful tugs, the immense ocean liner cautiously inched its way into the Hudson stern first.
A bare thirty minutes earlier, the Chinese president and his party had finally arrived at the ship terminal. As they passed through security and hurried aboard, the ship was cleared to set sail.
To give the heads of state the best vantage point for this rare midnight departure, the captain had invited them to join him on the Bridge. The presidents of the United States, France, and Russia, and the British and Canadian prime ministers had already taken up this offer. Much like a group of enthusiastic schoolboys, the five statesmen were currently in the midst of a tour of the central enclosed wheelhouse. This left Vince free to take up a position on the Bridge’s starboard exterior wing.
Security wise, he had little to be concerned with for the moment. The Bridge was a sealed, self-contained space, and since each of the leaders had at least one personal guard present, they were more than adequately protected.
Thus, he was able to watch the crew at work, as they backed the 963-foot-long, 69,000-ton vessel out into the river. Most of the actual maneuvering was being controlled from the wing’s auxiliary console situated on a slightly elevated platform at the far end of the wing.
Gathered around its rudder, speed, and bow-thruster controls were the ship’s first officer, the navigator, and a civilian river and docking pilot. All of these individuals held portable two-way radio handsets, their attentions focused on safely conveying the QE2 away from the pier.
This was a complicated operation, made all the more difficult by the Hudson’s swift current. Here the pilots proved invaluable. The nattily dressed civilians knew these waters intimately and were able to call out suggested course and speed changes with rote precision, all the while coordinating the efforts of the tugs.
It was hard not to feel the excitement generated by this departure.
Taking advantage of the magnificent late summer night, tens of thousands of New Yorkers had come to see the great ship off.
Vince got a bird’s-eye view of this crowd that packed all three levels of the passenger terminal. From this structure’s interior departure lounge, the spirited strains of a band could be heard playing a seemingly endless rendition of
“New York, New York.” Confetti danced through the air, with the crowds gaily singing along with the music and wildly cheering.
The departure also brought out an abundance of television-news crews.
Dozens of blinding camera lights illuminated the pier, while in the starry sky above flew the single news helicopter allowed to film the event.
To the east, the skyscrapers themselves looked on, seeming to stand a bit taller out of respect for a ship that was their peer in both length and majesty.
A resonant, five-second-long blast from the QE2’s air horn heralded its arrival into the Hudson River. They were well away from the pier now, and with another mighty blast of the ship’s whistle, the Queen was maneuvered into the center of the channel, its bow turned downstream.
They passed the collection of superbly restored warships and aircraft belonging to the Intrepid Sea, Air, Space Museum to their left, and Vince got an excellent view of Forty-second Street’s wide, well-lit expanse.
The last of the tugs pulled away, prompting a spirited exchange of whistle salutes. The QE2 easily won this battle of the air horns, culminating in a final, ear-shattering blast that could surely be heard from the Battery to Harlem.
Under its own power now, the ship steadily picked up speed. The Empire State Building’s lofty spire was soon behind them, and Vince listened as the river pilot spoke into his radio’s transmitter.
“Coast Guard traffic control, this is the QE2 bound for Southampton, over.”
“QE2, this is Coast Guard traffic control,” replied a crisp female voice from the radio. “We have you in the system headed southbound down river.”
“Aye, Coast Guard,” returned the pilot. “QE2 is currently passing the Holland Tunnel ventilators.”
“Roger that, QE2. We’ve got normal ferry traffic westbound,” reported the Coast Guard operator.
While this routine exchange continued, Vince spotted the distinctive twin towers of the World Trade Center up ahead on his left. To get a better view of this portion of downtown Manhattan, he crossed through the wheelhouse and stepped out onto the port wing. He found the five heads of state gathered on the wing’s elevated platform, their rapt gazes locked on the passing skyline.
“Two-Putt sure seems to be enjoying himself,” whispered Samuel Morrison, who had been standing beside the forward portion of the wing, immediately outside the wheelhouse doorway. “I haven’t seen him so excited since election night.”
“Seeing Manhattan from this perspective is enough to excite anyone,” Vince added, joining the SAIC.
Morrison grunted. “I’m glad you’re a part of the team, Vince. I gather that all went well today?” Vince filled him in with regard to the suspected case of food poisoning as they watched a pair of fireboats anchored off Battery Park shoot thin, arcing columns of water high into the night sky.
“Salmonella?” Morrison guessed.
“The New York Public Health authorities are still trying to determine the exact nature of the virus and its source. They did complete an intensive inspection of the vessel’s food preparation and storage facilities, and the ship passed with flying colors.”
“Make certain that Doc Patton gets a copy of that inspection report,” instructed the SAIC. “If it turns out to be salmonella and it’s still around, we could have a real problem on our hands. Is there any sort of internal followup underway?”
“I believe the ship’s physician is handling it,” said Vince. “I’ve already initiated an investigation of my own, with Robert Hartweu’s assistance.”
“Stay on it and keep me informed,” said Morrison as he refocused his gaze on the fading skyline. “I know it’s asking a lot of you, Vince, but I trust you can coordinate such investigations and still remain focused on protecting Two-Putt.”
“Man Dieu!” an excited voice called out from behind them. “C’est magnifique, mes amis!”
As Vince turned to see what had prompted this emotional outburst, the French president rushed past him and ducked into the wheelhouse. He was followed by the diminutive figure of the Russian president, with the prime ministers of Canada and Britain close on their heels. Behind them, their respective bodyguards jostled one another, trying to keep up.
This left the American president as the only head of state left on the port wing. He was in the midst of an animated conversation with the QE2’s bearded captain as they slowly made their way together toward the wheelhouse. As he passed Vince and Samuel, he explained what all the excitement was about.