“Good evening,” he said in a soft voice. “I hope you're enjoying yourselves. I am your host.”
Julia froze as she looked up into the smiling face of Qin Shang. He looked nothing like what she imagined. She did not envision him as tall and stout. The face was not that of a cruel, cold-blooded murderer with vast power. There was no hint of authority behind the friendly tone, and yet she could sense an underlying coldness. He stood immaculate in a beautifully cut tuxedo embroidered with golden tigers.
“Yes, thank you,” said Julia, barely able to remain polite, “It truly is a magnificent affair.”
Pitt rose to his feet slowly in a conscious effort not to appear patronizing. “May I present Ms. Julia Lee.”
“And you, sir?” asked Qin Shang.
“My name is Dirk Pitt.”
There it was. No skyrockets, no drumroll. The guy has style, Pitt had to give him that. The smile remained fixed. If there was surprise at finding Pitt alive and breathing, Qin Shang didn't show it. The only detectable response was a slight shift of the eyes. For long moments jade-green eyes locked with opaline-green, neither man willing to break off. Pitt knew damned well it was stupid and saw no purpose in the staredown other than egotistical satisfaction by the winner. Gradually, his gaze lifted to Qin Shang's eyebrows, then forehead, lingered and moved to the hair. Then Pitt's eyes widened a fraction as if he found something, and his lips broke into a slight grin.
The ruse worked. Qin Shang's concentration was broken. He involuntarily raised his eyeballs to look upward. “May I ask what you find so amusing, Mr. Pitt?”
“I was just wondering who your hairstylist was,” Pitt answered innocently.
“She is a Chinese lady who attends me once a day. I'd give you her name, but she is in my private employ.”
“I envy you. My barber is a mad Hungarian with palsy.”
There came a brief icy stare.
“The photo of you in your dossier does not do you justice.”
“I applaud a man who does his homework.”
“May I have a word with you in private, Mr. Pitt?”
Pitt nodded toward Julia. “Only if Ms. Lee is present.”
“I'm afraid our conversation may not be of interest to the lovely lady.”
Pitt realized that Qin Shang did not know Julia's credentials. “On the contrary. Rude of me not to mention that Ms. Lee is an agent with the Immigration and Naturalization Service. She was also a passenger on one of your cattle boats and had the misfortune of enjoying your hospitality at Orion Lake. You are familiar, I trust, with Orion Lake. It's in the state of Washington.”
For an instant there was a red glare in the jade eyes, and then it was just as quickly extinguished. Qin Shang remained as impenetrable as marble. His voice came even and calm. “If you both will please follow me.” He turned and strode away, knowing unquestionably Pitt and Julia would trail in his wake.
“I think the time has come,” said Pitt as he helped Julia from her chair.
“You crafty dog,” she murmured. “You knew all along he would seek us out.”
“Shang didn't get where he's at without a healthy dose of curiosity.”
Obediently, they followed Qin Shang through the milling congregation until he came to the costumed giant who opened the door for him. They entered a room unlike the heavily furnished and decorated one they just left. This room was modest and austere. The walls were merely painted in a soft blue. The only furnishings were a settee, two chairs and a desk whose surface was barren except for a telephone. He motioned for them to sit on the settee as he took his place behind the desk. Pitt was amused to see that the desk and chair were slightly elevated so that Qin Shang looked down at his visitors. “Forgive me for mentioning it,” Pitt said offhandedly, “but the bronze incense burner in the main entry. From the Liao dynasty, I believe.”
“Why yes, you are quite correct.”
“I assume you know that it's a fake.”
“You are most observant, Mr. Pitt,” said Qin Shang without taking offense. “The piece is not fake, but a well-executed replica. The original was lost in nineteen forty-eight during the war when the People's Army of Mao Tse-tung crushed the forces of Chiang Kai-shek.”
“The burner is still in China?”
“No, it was on a ship with many other ancient treasures stolen from my country by Chiang that were lost at sea.”
“The ship's final resting place is a mystery?”
“A mystery I have worked many years to solve. To find the ship and its cargo is my life's most passionate desire.”
“It's been my experience that shipwrecks are never found until they want to be found.”
“Very poetic,” Qin Shang said, pausing to glance at his watch. “I must return and tend to my guests so I'll be brief before I have my security people escort you to the door. Please tell me the purpose behind your uninvited presence.”
“I thought the purpose was transparent,” Pitt replied conversationally. “Ms. Lee and I wanted to meet the man we're going to hang.”
“You're very succinct, Mr. Pitt. I appreciate that in an adversary. But it is you who will be a casualty in the war.”
“What war is that?”
“The economic war between the People's Republic of China and the United States. A war for extraordinary power and wealth for the winner.”
“I have no ambitions on that score.”
“Ah, but I do. That's the difference between us and between our countrymen. Like most of the rabble in America, you lack determination and zeal.”
Pitt shrugged his shoulders. “If greed is your god, then you possess very little of true value.”
“You think of me as a greedmonger?” Qin Shang asked pleasantly.
“I've seen little of your lifestyle that persuades me otherwise.”
“All the great men of history were driven by ambition. It goes hand in hand with power. Contrary to public opinion, the world is not divided by good and evil, but between those who do and those who do not, the visionaries and the blind, the realists and the romanticists. The world does not turn on good deeds and sentiment, Mr. Pitt, but on achievement.”
“What do you ultimately hope to gain in the end besides a pretentious edifice over your coffin?”
“You misunderstand me. My goal is to help China become the greatest nation the world has ever known.”
“While you become even more filthy-rich than you already are. Where does it end, Mr. Shang?”
“There is no end, Mr. Pitt.”
“You'll have a tough fight on your hands if you think China can surpass the United States.”
“Ah, but the deed is done,” Qin Shang said matter-of-factly. “You country has died a slow death as a world power while my country is in its ascendancy. Already we have passed the United States to become the largest economy in history. Already we have passed your trade deficit with Japan. Your government is impotent despite its nuclear arsenal. Soon it will be unthinkable for your leaders to intervene when we assume control of Taiwan and the rest of the Asian nations.”
“So what does it really matter?” asked Pitt. “You'll still be playing catch-up to our standard of living for the next hundred years.”
“Time is on our side. Not only will we erode America from the outside, but with the help of your own countrymen we will eventually cause it to crumble from within. If nothing else, future division and internal race wars will seal your fate as a great nation.”
Pitt began to see Qin Shang's direction. “Aided and abetted by your doctrine of illegal immigration, is that it?”
Qin Shang looked at Julia. “Your Immigration and Naturalization Service estimates that nearly a million Chinese enter America and Canada legally and illegally each year. Actually, the figure is closer to two million. While you concentrated on keeping out your neighbors to the south, we have been flooding masses of my countrymen across the sea and across your shoreline. One day, sooner than you think, your coastal states and the Canadian provinces will be an extension of China.”