“What happens after the immigrants safely arrive in the country?” asked Gunn.
“Local Asian crime gangs take over,” Harper answered. “Those immigrants lucky enough to have money or relatives already living in the U.S. are released directly into their destination community. Most, however, cannot pay the fee for entry. Consequently, they are forced to remain concealed, generally in remote warehouses. Here, they're locked away for weeks or even months, and threatened by being told that if they try to escape they will be turned over to American law enforcement and imprisoned for half their lives merely because they are illegal entrants. The gangs frequently use torture, beatings and rape to frighten the captives into signing their lives away as indentured servants. Once the aliens cave in they are forced to work for the crime syndicates in drug dealing, prostitution, in illegal sweatshops and other gang-related activities. Those in good physical condition, usually the younger men, must sign a contract requiring them to repay their smuggling fee at high rates of interest. Then they are found jobs in laundries, restaurants or manufacturing working fourteen hours a day, seven days a week. It takes from six to eight years for the illegal immigrant to pay off his debt.”
“After obtaining the necessary forged documents, many of them become bona fide American citizens,” Monroe continued. “As long as the United States has a demand for cheap labor, efficient smuggling enterprises will exploit it with illegal immigration that is already increasing to epidemic proportions.”
“There must be any number of ways to cut off the flow,” Sandecker said, helping himself to a cup of coffee from a silver urn on a nearby cart.
“Short of throwing up an international blockade around the Chinese mainland, how can you stop them?” asked Gunn.
“The answer is simple,” replied Laird. “We can't, certainly not under international law. Our hands are tied. All any nation can do, including the United States, is recognize the threat as a major international security concern and take whatever emergency measures that are required to protect its borders.”
“Like calling out the Army and Marines to defend the beaches and repel invaders,” suggested Sandecker wryly.
The President gave Sandecker a sharp look. “You seemed to have missed the point, Admiral. What we're facing is a peaceful invasion. I simply can't whistle up a curtain of missiles against unarmed men, women and children.”
Sandecker pressed on. “Then what's stopping you, Mr. President, from directing a joint operation by the armed forces to effectively seal our borders? By doing so, you'd probably cut the flow of illegal drugs into the country as well.”
The President shrugged. “The thought has crossed smarter minds than mine.”
“Stopping illegals is not the mission of the Pentagon,” said Laird firmly.
“Perhaps I've been misinformed. But I've always been under the impression that the mission of our armed forces was to protect and defend the security of the United States. Peaceful or not, I still read this as an invasion of our sovereign shores. I see no reason why Army infantry and Marine divisions can't help Mr. Monroe's understaffed border patrolmen, why the Navy can't back up Admiral Ferguson's overextended Coast Guard and why the Air Force can't fly aerial reconnaissance missions.”
“There are political considerations beyond my control,” the President said, a certain hardness creeping into his voice.
“Like not retaliating with tough trade sanctions on Chinese imports because they buy billions of dollars' worth of industrial and agricultural products from us every year?”
“While you're on that subject, Admiral,” said Laird with emphasis, “you should be aware that the Chinese have replaced the Japanese as the biggest purchaser of U.S. Treasury bonds. It is not in our best interest to harass them.”
Gunn could see the anger reddening his chief's face, while the President's was turning pale. He stepped into the debate quietly. “I'm sure Admiral Sandecker understands your difficulties, Mr. President, but I believe we're both in the dark as to how NUMA can help.”
“I'll be happy to brief you on your involvement, Jim,” said Ferguson to his old friend.
“Please do,” Sandecker said testily.
“It's no secret the Coast Guard is stretched too thin. Over the past year we've seized thirty-two vessels and intercepted over four thousand illegal Chinese aliens off Hawaii and the East and West coasts. NUMA has a small fleet of research vessels—”
“Stop right there,” interrupted Sandecker. "There is no way
I will permit my ships and scientists to stop and board vessels suspected of carrying illegal immigrants."
“Not our intention to put weapons in the hands of marine biologists,” Ferguson assured the admiral, his voice calm and unperturbed. “What we need from NUMA is information on possible alien landing sites, undersea conditions and geology along our coastlines, bays and inlets that the smugglers can take advantage of. Put your best people on it, Jim. Where would they offload their human cargo if they were the smugglers?”
“Also,” added Monroe, “your people and vessels can act as intelligence gatherers. NUMA's turquoise-painted ships are known and respected throughout the world as ocean-science research vessels. Any one of them could sail within a hundred yards of a suspected ship filled with aliens without arousing the suspicions of the smugglers. They can report what they observe and continue on with their research.”
“You must understand,” said the President wearily to San-decker, “I'm not asking you to drop your agency's priorities. But I am ordering you and NUMA to give whatever assistance possible to Mr. Monroe and Admiral Ferguson to reduce the flow of illegal aliens from China into the United States.”
“There are two particular areas we'd like your people to investigate,” said Harper.
“I'm listening,” muttered Sandecker, beginning to show a famt trace of curiosity.
“Are you familiar with a man by the name of Qin Shang?” asked Harper.
“I am,” answered Sandecker. "He owns a shipping empire called Qin Shang Maritime Limited out of Hong Kong that operates a fleet of over a hundred cargo ships, oil tankers and cruise ships. He once made a personal request through a Chinese historian to search our data files for a shipwreck he was interested in finding.
“If it floats, Shang probably owns it, including dockside facilities and warehouses in nearly every major port city in the world. He is as shrewd and canny as they come.”
“Isn't Shang the Chinese mogul who built that huge port facility in Louisiana?” asked Gunn.
“One and the same,” answered Ferguson. “On Atchafalaya Bay near Morgan City. Nothing but marshlands and bayous. According to every developer we questioned, there is absolutely no logic in pouring hundreds of millions of dollars into a shipping port eighty miles from the nearest major city and with no transportation network leading from it.”
“Has it got a name?” inquired Gunn.
“The port is called Sungari.”
“Shang must have a damned good reason for throwing big money into a swamp,” said Sandecker.
“Whatever his logic, we've yet to learn what it is,” Monroe admitted. “That's one of two areas where NUMA can help us.”
“You'd like to use a NUMA research ship and its technology to nose around Shang's newly constructed shipping port,” assumed Gunn.
Ferguson nodded. “You get the picture, Commander. There's more to Sungari than what meets the eye, and it's probably out of sight underwater.”
The President stared pointedly at Sandecker with a faint smile. “No other government agency has the brains and technology of NUMA for underwater investigation.”