She looked self-consciously up and down at the faces around the table, her face reddening. “I've never even been to Mexico.”
“You will,” he promised, “you will.” Then he released her hand and leisurely strolled from the conference room, trailed by Giordino and Sandecker.
Unlike most directors of U.S. governmental agencies, who demanded to be carried around Washington by limousine, Admiral Sandecker preferred to drive himself. After leaving the INS headquarters building, he steered the turquoise Jeep, which was one of the NUMA fleet of transportation vehicles, along the east side of the Potomac River on the Maryland shore. After dropping several miles below the city, he turned off the road and stopped the Jeep in a parking lot next to a small boat dock. Locking the car, Sandecker led the way across the floating wooden dock to a sixty-year-old double-ender whaleboat that had once served as Admiral Bull Halsey's shore boat during the war in the Pacific. After finding it in shabby condition, he had lovingly restored it to its original state. While he turned the handle that kicked the four-cylinder Buda diesel engine to life, Pitt and Giordino cast off the mooring lines. Then they climbed aboard as the little boat chugged out into the river.
“I thought we'd hold a little private talk before we returned to the NUMA building,” Sandecker said above the exhaust as he held the long tiller in the stern under one arm. “As ridiculous as it sounds, I'm leery of conversing in my own office.”
“It does tend to make one gun-shy, knowing Qin Shang can and has bought off half the city,” said Pitt.
“The guy has more tentacles than ten squids joined together at birth,” added Giordino.
“Unlike the Russians, who paid paltry sums for secret information during the cold war,” said Sandecker, “Qin Shang thinks nothing of paying out millions of dollars to buy people and information.”
“Backed by the Chinese government,” said Pitt, “his cash reserves are bottomless.”
Giordino sat on a bench seat facing Sandecker. “What magic have you conjured up, Admiral?”
“Magic?”
“I've been around you too long to know you're not the kind to sit back and take contempt and ridicule. Something is cooking in your Machiavellian mind.”
Pitt grinned. “I suspect the admiral and I are running on the same wavelength. We're not about to let NUMA be shut out of hanging Qin Shang from the nearest tree.”
Sandecker's lips curled in a taut smile as he swung the boat in a wide arc to avoid a sailboat that was tacking upriver. “I hate it when I'm second-guessed by the hired help.”
“Sungari?” asked Pitt.
Sandecker nodded. “I've kept Rudi Gunn and the Marine Denizen on station a few miles below Qin Shang Maritime's port facility in the Atchafalaya River. I'd like you two rogues to fly down and join him. Then wait for the United States to show up.”
“Where is she now?” asked Giordino.
“The last report put her two hundred miles off the coast of Costa Rica.”
“That should put her at the dock at Sungari in three days,” remarked Pitt.
“You were right about a crew coming on board to take her through the Panama Canal.”
“Did they remain on board?”
Sandecker shook his head. “After transit through the Canal, they disembarked. The United States is continuing toward Louisiana under remote control.”
“A 'robo ship,' ” Giordino muttered thoughtfully. “Hard to believe a ship the size of the United States is cruising the seas with no one on board.”
“The Navy has been developing the 'robo ship' concept for ten years,” explained Sandecker. “Ship designers and engineers have already built an arsenal ship that is basically a floating missile pad able to launch as many as five hundred missiles by remote control from another ship, an aircraft or a facility thousands of miles away, a radical departure from present aircraft carriers that require a five-thousand-man crew. It's the newest concept from the Navy since the nuclear ballistic missile submarine. Totally contained warships and bomber aircraft are not far behind.”
“Whatever Qin Shang has in mind for the United States,” said Giordino, “it's not as a missile platform. Dirk and I searched it from engine room to wheelhouse. There are no missile launchers.”
“I read your report,” said Sandecker. “You also found no indication that it would be used to smuggle illegal immigrants.”
“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?”