“Next time, you do the hard part.”
“Qin Shang?” asked Giordino.
Pitt pointed a pincer at the inert submersible. “Where he belongs.”
“How are you fixed for air?”
“Down to twenty minutes.”
“No time to waste. Stand still until I can connect up my cable to the lift ring on top of your helmet. Then I'll tow you to the surface.”
“Not just yet,” said Pitt. “I've got a little task to perform.”
He activated the little thrusters on the Newtsuit and moved up the sides of the superstructure until he came to the wheel-house. The bulkheads had been torched away for entry and for the removal of the treasures packed in the passageways and former passenger staterooms. He quickly studied a diagram of the ship's interior that he had taped to the globular view plate and began propelling the pressurized suit past the captain's cabin next to the wheelhouse to the next cabin beyond. Amazingly, the furnishings were still relatively intact and jumbled about the small compartment. After only a few minutes' search, Pitt found what he was looking for and removed a small pouch from the utility belt on the Newtsuit and filled it with objects from one corner of the cabin.
“You'd better get a move on,” came Giordmo's worried voice.
“On my way,” Pitt complied.
With three minutes to spare, the Sappho TV and the Newtsuit surfaced one behind the other and were lifted on board the Ocean Retriever. As the technicians worked to remove Pitt from the big dive suit, he looked across the water at Qin Shang's Jade Adventurer. A boarding party from the Coast Guard cutter was routinely examining the ship's papers before ordering it out of American waters.
When he was finally free of the ponderous suit, Pitt leaned wearily over the railing and gazed down into the water as Julia came up behind him and ran her arms around his waist, clasping her hands across his stomach. “I was worried about you,” she said softly.
“I put my trust in Al and Rudi, knowing they would never fail.”
“Is Qin Shang dead?” she asked, certain of the answer.
He held her head between his hands and looked down into her gray eyes. “He's only a bad memory it pays to forget.”
She pulled back, her face suddenly disturbed. “When word leaks out that you killed him, you're going to be in big trouble with the government.”
Despite the exhaustion, Pitt threw back his head and laughed. “Dearheart, I'm always in big trouble with the government.”
Dirk Pitt 14 - Flood Tide
EPILOGUE
Dirk Pitt 14 - Flood Tide
FRITZ
Dirk Pitt 14 - Flood Tide
July 31, 2000 Washington, D.C.
PRESIDENT DEAN COOPER WALLACE WORKED LATE HOURS IN his office in his secret living quarters at Fort McNair and thought nothing of inconveniencing his staff and visitors for meetings in the middle of the night. He did not rise from behind his desk as Commissioner Duncan Monroe, Admiral Sandecker and Peter Harper were escorted into the office by his newly appointed chief of staff, Harold Pecorelli. Nor did he invite his visitors to sit down.
Wallace was not a happy man.
The news media was crucifying him for his relations with Qin Shang, now accused of conspiracy for the destruction and deaths along the Mississippi River. To make matters worse, the Chinese leaders had thrown Qin Shang on their sacrificial altar and denied any association with him. The head of Qin Shang Maritime Limited had disappeared, and even the Chinese government was at a loss as to his whereabouts. The Jade Adventurer was still at sea on its way back to China. Throughout the voyage from Lake Michigan, Captain Chen Jiang had maintained radio silence, not wanting to be the one to announce Qin Shang's death at the hands of the Americans.
At the same time, Wallace took great delight in pretending
that he played a key role in the discovery and salvage of the Chinese art treasures. Negotiations were already under way for their return to mainland China. Photojournalists and television news cameras had a field day recording the incredible display of artifacts as they were removed from the original teak packing crates and prepared for preservation. The bones of Peking man by themselves caused an international sensation.
Advised that it was not in his best interests to interfere, Wallace remained quiet as the INS and FBI, working hand in hand, rounded up nearly three hundred Chinese gang leaders and members around the country and arraigned them for trial. Thousands of illegal immigrants working in virtual slavery were taken into custody for later deportation back to China. The flow of illegal aliens coming in from Asia may not have been plugged completely, but the smuggling operations were cut back drastically.
The President's closest advisers, having observed the recklessness of the previous chief executive in conducting cov-erups, strongly advised Wallace simply to admit that mistakes were made and make no excuses. Any errors of judgment were made for what he thought was the good of the country. Damage control was already in high gear to sidestep any criticism encountered along his way for election to a second term.
“You stepped far beyond the bounds of your office,” Wallace said, directing his wrath toward Monroe. “And you did it without briefing anyone in my office regarding your intent.”
“Sir, I did nothing but the job I was appointed to do,” Duncan replied resolutely.
“China is a magnificent stage for the future of the American economy, and you jeopardized the close relationship I have worked to build between our two countries. The future of the United States lies in a universal world-trading system, and China is a vital step toward that goal.”
“But not, Mr. President,” said Sandecker with his usual testiness, “if it means flooding the country with illegal immigrants.”
“You people are not foreign-policy experts, nor are you economists,” Wallace said coldly. “Your business, Duncan, is to properly conduct immigration procedures. And yours, Admiral, is to conduct ocean-science projects. Neither of you were appointed to run amok.”
Sandecker shrugged and then dropped his bomb. “I admit NUMA scientists and engineers are not in the business of executing criminals, but—”
“What was that you said?” Wallace demanded. “What are you insinuating?”
With feigned innocence Sandecker replied. “No one briefed you?”
“Briefed me on what?”
“The unfortunate accident that took the life of Qin Shang.”
“He's dead?” Wallace gasped.
Sandecker nodded solemnly. “Yes, he suffered a temporary fit of insanity and attacked my special projects director on the wreck of the Princess Dou Wan, who in self-defense was forced to kill Qin Shang.”
Wallace was stunned. “Do you have any idea of what you've done?”
“If ever a monster deserved to be terminated,” Sandecker came back caustically, “it was Qin Shang. And I might add that I'm proud it was my people who were responsible.”
Before the President could censure the admiral, Peter Harper jumped into the debate. “I received a report from the CIA revealing that certain members of the Chinese government were themselves plotting to assassinate Qin Shang. Their plan was to appropriate Qin Shang Maritime Limited and merge it with their government-owned shipping line, China Marine. There is no reason to believe they will curtail illegal smuggling operations, but without Qin Shang they won't be able to operate as efficiently or on the same scale. This is all to our advantage.”
“You must realize, gentlemen,” said Pecorelli diplomatically, “the President has policies to protect and interests to defend no matter how unpopular they might seem.”
Sandecker gave Pecorelli a stern look. “It's no longer a secret, Harold, that Qin Shang acted as a middleman between the White House and illegal Chinese interests.”