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.
Stewart looked through a doorway at Gunn, who was sitting in front of a computer monitor that was mounted beneath a large video screen. “Ready when you are, Rudi.”
“Drop her in,” said Gunn with the wave of a hand.
The winch attached to the cradle hummed and the AUV slowly settled into the perpetual gloom of the river. The diver uncoupled the cradle, swam to a ladder and climbed onto the work platform.
Stewart entered the small compartment that was rilled from deck to roof with electronic equipment. He sat down next to Gunn, who was operating the AUV from a computer console while staring into the video monitor. All that was revealed was a long gray wall of steel casing that trailed off into the gloom. “Frankly, this seems like much ado about nothing.”
“You'll get no argument from me,” said Gunn. “The order to investigate Sungari from under the surface came direct from the White House.”
“Do they really think Qin Shang would conduct his smuggling operations through underwater passageways that connect to the hulls of his ships?”
“Some hotshot in Washington must think so. That's why we're here.”
“Like me to send for some coffee from the galley?” asked Stewart.
“I could use a cup,” said Gunn without turning from the monitor.
The cook's galley assistant soon brought a tray of cups along with a filled coffeepot. Three hours later the cups and pot were as empty as the inspection project. Nothing showed on the monitor except a seemingly unending wall of steel casings that were driven deep into the silt to act as a barrier for the landfill that in turn acted as a foundation for the dock and terminal buildings. Finally, just before noon, Gunn turned to Stewart.
“So much for the west side of the port,” Gunn said wearily. He rubbed his eyes to relieve the strain. “It gets awfully tedious staring at gray, shapeless casing for hours on end.”
“See any hint of a door leading to a passage?”
“No so much as a crack or hinge.”
“We can move the AUV across the river channel and, with luck, finish up the east side before dark,” said Stewart.
“The sooner we wrap this up, the better.” Gunn typed a command on the keyboard that sent the AUV on a course toward the opposite side of the port. Then he leaned back and relaxed in his chair.
“Sure you don't want to knock off for a sandwich?” asked Stewart.
Gunn shook his head. “I'll see it through and fill my empty stomach at dinner.”
It took only ten minutes for the AUV to cross under the river to the east side of the port. Gunn then programmed the AUV's controls to start the run at the end of the casing wall, working north to south. The AUV had only covered two hundred yards when the phone beside him buzzed. “Can you take that?” he asked Stewart.
The Marine Denizen's skipper picked up the receiver and then handed it to Gunn. “It's Dirk Pitt.”
“Pitt.” Gunn turned from the monitor, his eyebrows raised in surprise. He took the phone and spoke into the mouthpiece, “Dirk?”
“Hello, Rudi,” came Pitt's familiar voice. “I'm calling from an airplane somewhere over the Nevada desert.”
“How did your underwater search of the United States go?”
“Got a little hairy there for a while, but all Al and I found was a smooth hull and keel with no openings.”
“If we don't find anything on this end in the next few hours, we'll join you.”
“Are you using a submersible?” asked Pitt.
“Not necessary,” replied Gunn. “An AUV is doing the job just fine.”
“Keep a tight leash on it, or Qin Shang's underwater security people will steal it before your eyes. They're sneaky devils.”
Gunn hesitated before he replied, wondering what Pitt meant. He was about to ask when Stewart came back. “They're serving lunch, Rudi. I'll talk to you after we reach Washington. Good luck, and give my best to Frank Stewart.” Then the connection went dead.
“How is Dirk?” inquired Stewart. “I haven't seen him since we worked together on the Lady Flamborough cruise-ship search down off Tierra del Fuego a few years ago.”
“Testy as ever. He gave me a strange warning.”
“Warning?”
“He said Qin Shang's underwater security people might steal the AUV,” Gunn answered, obviously confused.
“What underwater security?” said Stewart sarcastically.
Gunn didn't reply. His eyes suddenly widened and he pointed at the video monitor. “My God, look!”
Stewart's eyes followed Gunn's outstretched finger and stiffened.
A face wearing a diver mask filled the screen of the monitor They stared in amazement as the diver pulled off the mask and revealed very Chinese-featured eyes, nose and mouth. Then he flashed a wide gnn and waved as a child waves bye-bye.
Then the image went dark and was replaced with jagged gray and white streaks. Gunn frantically commanded the AUV to return to the Marine Denizen, but there was no response. The AUV had disappeared as if it had never been launched.
PlTT KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG THE INSTANT THE NUMA driver stopped the car. A tiny indescribable alarm tingled inside his brain and traveled to the nape of his neck. Something was not as it should have been.