Wong glanced down at the steel rails lying directly below and between the rear of the last freight car and the concrete stop barrier. “Yes, you make an excellent point. I think Qin Shang might be appeased for his loss. But please make it now. We can no longer afford to waste time. We must leave quickly.”
Loo extended his arms and tensed. Julia screamed. Wong and May Ching were waiting in sadistic anticipation. None of them noticed a tall, curly-haired man in an ill-fitting security uniform who had stepped silently down the stairs behind them. “Forgive me for interrupting,” said Pitt, jamming the muzzle of his Colt against the base of Loo's skull, “but if anyone so much as scratches their nose, I'll blow their gray matter into the next parish.”
They all turned instinctively toward the strange voice, each forming different expressions on their faces at his abrupt appearance. Loo's tan features went pallid, his eyes blank with incredulity. May Ching's features went taut with dread. Wong looked downright curious.
“Who are you?” Wong asked.
Pitt ignored him. When he spoke, it was to Loo. “Put the lady down gently.” To emphasize his demand, Pitt jammed the .45 solidly into the flesh of Loo's neck below the skull.
“Don't shoot, please don't shoot,” pleaded Loo as he slowly lowered Julia to her feet, his beady eyes glazed with fear.
Julia crumpled to her knees. It was then that Pitt saw the terrible bruises on Julia's wrists and ankles. Without a second's hesitation, he clubbed Loo on the temple with the barrel of the Colt, watching with grim satisfaction as the Triad director dropped and rolled down the stairs.
Unable to believe the voice was really his, Julia looked up and saw the opaline-green eyes and the crooked grin. “Dirk!” she muttered dazedly as she reached up and gentry touched the bandage on his broken nose. “Oh God, oh God, you're here. How, how in the world ... ?”
Pitt wanted desperately to lift her up and hold her in his arms, but he didn't dare take his eyes off of Wong. He read the expression and knew Qin Shang's enforcer was coiled to strike like a snake. With foresight, he also predicted May Ching had nothing to lose now that her boss was a broken body at the foot of the stairs. She stared at him with a look of cold hatred no woman had ever speared him with before. Pitt kept his eyes on her and the gun trained on Wong's forehead. “I just happened to be passing by and thought I'd drop in and say hello.”
“Your name is Dirk?” Wong said tightly. “Am I to presume you are Dirk Pitt?”
“I certainly hope so. And you?”
“Ki Wong, and the lady is May Ching. What do you intend to do with us?”
“Ki Wong,” said Pitt thoughtfully. “Where have I heard that name before?”
Julia was astute. Without jeopardizing Pitt's vigilance, she circled her arms around his waist from the back so as not to restrict his movements.
“He's Qin Shang's chief enforcer,” said Julia, slowly struggling to her feet. “He interrogates the immigrants and decides who lives and dies. He was the one who tortured me on board the Indigo Star.”
“You're not a very nice man, are you?” said Pitt conversationally. “I've seen your handiwork.”
Without warning a guard appeared from nowhere. Too late, Pitt caught the unexpected presence from May Ching's eyes as they flashed from hatred to triumph at seeing the uniformed guard. Desperately he whirled around to face his attacker as Wong threw himself at Pitt. May Ching screamed.
“Kill him! Kill him!”
“I always respect a lady's wishes,” said the intruder without emotion. The .357 magnum revolver in his hand spat ike, the deafening blast reverberating around the landing as if it came from a cannon. Wong's eyes burst from their sockets as the bullet's impact struck him square, just above the bridge of the nose. He reeled backward, arms outstretched, and careened over the railing, his already dead body crashing onto the rails far below.
Giordino regarded his handiwork modestly. “I hope I did the right thing.”
“And high time too,” said Pitt, hoping his heart would start pumping again.
“Damn you!” shrieked May Ching, leaping at Pitt, her ringers with their long nails curled to gouge out his eyes.
She only took one step before Julia's fist rammed into May Ching's mouth, splitting the lips and sending a spurt of blood down the front of the red silk dress. “You bitch!” said Julia fiercely. “That's for drugging me.” Another convulsive movement, and Julia's next blow took May Ching in the stomach, sending the lady from the Dragon Triad to her knees, gasping for breath. “And that's for leaving me half naked in front of men.”
“Remind me never to make you mad,” Pitt said with a grin.
She massaged her fist and stared up at him, her face sad and strained. “If only we could have caught them in the act of transporting illegal immigrants. God only know how many lives we could have saved. Now it's too late.”
Pitt hugged her tenderly, favoring her cracked ribs. “Didn't you know?”
“Know?” she said, puzzled. “Know what?”
He motioned toward the train below. “There are over three hundred of them locked into freight cars down there.”
Caught off balance, she stiffened as if Pitt had struck her. She stared uncomprehending at the train. “They were here and I never saw them.”
“How did you get to the sugar mill?” he asked her.
“I sneaked on board the trash barge as it left the Sung Lien Star.”
“Then you rode on top of them from Sungari. They came across the sea from China in a submerged container that was moved by an underwater rail system from under the Sung Lien Star to the barge that brought mem here.”
Her voice suddenly became hard. “We've got to free them before the train leaves.”
“Not to worry,” said Pitt with a canny smile. “Even Mussolini couldn't make that train run on time.”
They were unlocking the freight cars and helping the illegal immigrants onto the loading docks when the Immigration and Naturalization Service agents and coast guardsmen arrived and took over.
PRESIDENT DEAN COOPER WALLACE CAME FROM BEHIND HIS desk as Qin Shang stepped into the oval office of the White House. He put out a hand and said, “My dear Qin Shang, how good to see you.”
Qin Shang pressed the President's hand in both of his. “It's so kind of you to see me in light of your busy schedule.”
“Nonsense, I'm deeply in your debt.”
“Will you be needing me?” asked Morton Laird, who had escorted Qin Shang from the reception room.
“Please stay, Morton,” said the President. “I'd like you to be present.”
The President showed Qin Shang to a pair of sofas that faced across a coffee table, and they sat down. “I wish you to convey my deep appreciation to Premier Wu Kwong for his generous contribution to my presidential campaign. And please tell him he has my promise of close cooperation between our two governments.”
“Premier Kwong will be happy to hear it,” said Qin Shang affably.
“What can I do for you, Qin Shang?” asked the President, setting the discussion in a firm direction.
“As you know, certain members of Congress have been calling my country a slave state and condemning what they call human-rights abuses. They are currently proposing a bill to reject our most-favored-nation status. Premier Wu Kwong fears they may muster enough votes to push through the bill's passage.”
“Rest assured,” the President said, smiling, “I fully intend to veto any bill Congress passes that jeopardizes trade between our two countries. I've also gone on record as stating that mutual trade benefits are the best opportunity to eliminate the human-rights questions.”