Flood Tide Read online

  "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 Sandecker, "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 faint 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."

  Sandecker stared back. "You haven't made it clear what Shang has to do with alien smuggling."

  "According to our intelligence sources, Shang is the mastermind responsible for fifty percent of the Chinese smuggled into the Western Hemisphere, and the number is growing rapidly."

  "So if you stop Shang, you cut off the head of the snake."

  The President nodded briefly. "That's pretty much our theory."

  "You mentioned two areas for us to investigate," Sandecker probed.

  Ferguson held up a hand to field the question. "The second is a ship. Another of Shang's projects we can't fathom was his purchase of the former transatlantic ocean liner, the S.S. United States."

  "The United States went out of service and was laid up at Norfolk, Virginia, for thirty years," said Gunn.

  Monroe shook his head. "Ten years ago she was sold to a Turkish millionaire who advertised that he was going to refit and put her into service as a floating university."

  "Not a practical scheme," Sandecker said bluntly. "No matter how she's refitted, by today's standards she's too large and too expensive to operate and maintain."

  "A deception." For the first time Monroe grinned. "The rich Turk turned out to be our friend Qin Shang. The United States was towed from Norfolk across the sea into the Mediterranean, past Istanbul and into the Black Sea to Sevastopol. The Chinese do not have a dry dock that can take a ship that size. Shang hired the Russians to convert her into a modern cruise ship."

  "It makes no sense. He'll lose his shirt, he must know that."

  "It makes a lot of sense if Shang intends to use the United States as a cover to move illegal aliens," said Ferguson. "The CIA also thinks the People's Republic bankrolled Shang. The Chinese have a small navy. If they should ever get serious about invading Taiwan, they'll need troop transports. The United States could transport an entire division, including their heavy arms and equipment."

  "I fully understand that sinister threats call for urgent measures." Sandecker paused and massaged his temples with his fingertips for a few moments. Then he announced, "The resources of NUMA are at your command. We'll give it our best effort."

  The President nodded as though he had expected that. "Thank you, Admiral. I'm sure Mr. Monroe and Admiral Ferguson join me in expressing our gratitude."

  Gunn's thoughts were already on the job ahead. "It would be most helpful," he said, his eyes on Monroe and Harper, "if you had agents on the inside of Shang's organization to feed us information."

  Monroe made a helpless gesture with his hands. "Sh
ang's security is incredibly tight. He's hired a top group of former Russian KGB agents to form an impenetrable ring that even the CIA has yet to infiltrate. They have a computerized personnel identification and investigation system that is second to none. There is no one within Shang's own management circles who is not under constant surveillance."

  "To date," added Harper, "we've lost two special agents who attempted to penetrate Shang's organization. Except for one of our agents who posed as an immigrant and bought her passage on board one of Shang's smuggling ships, our undercover missions are in shambles. I hate to admit such failure, but those are the hard facts."

  "Your agent is a woman?" asked Sandecker.

  "Comes from a wealthy Chinese family. She's one of our best."

  "Any idea where the smugglers will put your agent ashore?" asked Gunn.

  Harper shook his head. "We're not in contact with her. They could drop her and the rest of the illegal immigrants anywhere between San Francisco and Anchorage."

  "How do you know Shang's security people haven't already caught on to her as they did your other two agents?"

  Harper's eyes remained fixed in space for a long time. Finally, he admitted solemnly, "We don't. All we can do is wait and hope until she makes contact with one of our West Coast district offices."

  "And if you never hear from her?"

  Harper gazed down at the polished surface of the table as if seeing the unthinkable. "Then I send a letter of condolence to her parents and assign someone else to follow in her footsteps."

  The meeting finally concluded at four o'clock in the morning. Sandecker and Gunn were ushered from the President's secret quarters and returned through the tunnel to the White House. As they were driven to their respective homes in the limousine, each man was lost in gloomy thoughts. Finally Sandecker broke the somber mood.

  "They must be desperate if they need NUMA to help bail them out."

  "I'd probably call in the Marines, the New York Stock Exchange and the Boy Scouts too if I was in the President's shoes," said Gunn. "A farce," snorted Sandecker. "My sources in the White House tell me the President has been in bed with Qin Shang since he was governor of Oklahoma."

  Gunn looked at him. "But the President said-"

  "I know what he said, but what he meant is a different thing. Naturally, he wants the flow of illegal immigrants stopped, but he won't order any measures that might upset Beijing. Qin Shang is President Wallace's chief campaign fund-raiser in Asia. Many millions of dollars from the Chinese government were funneled through Hong Kong and Qin Shang Maritime into Wallace's campaign fund. It's corrupt influence peddling of the highest order. That's why Wallace stops short of any head-to-head confrontation. His administration is riddled with people working on China's behalf. The man has sold his soul to the detriment of American citizens."

  "Then what does he hope to gain if we nail Qin Shang's ass to the wall?"

  "It won't happen," said Sandecker acidly. "Qin Shang will never be indicted nor convicted of criminal activities, certainly not in the United States."

  "Then I gather it's your plan to push ahead in the investigation," said Gunn, "regardless of the consequences."

  Sandecker nodded. "Do we have a research ship operating in the Gulf?"

  "The Marine Denizen. Her scientific team is conducting a study on the diminishing coral reefs off Yucatan."

  "She's served NUMA for a long time," Sandecker said, visualizing the ship.

  "The oldest in our fleet," Gunn acknowledged. "This is her final voyage. After she returns to port in Norfolk, we're donating her to the Lampack University of Oceanography."

  "The university will have to wait a while longer. An old marine-research ship with a crew of biologists should prove an ideal cover to investigate Shang's port facility."

  "Who have you in mind to lead the investigation?"

  Sandecker turned to Gunn. "Our special projects director, who do you think?"

  Gunn hesitated. "Asking a bit much from Dirk, aren't we?"

  "Can you think of a better man?"

  "No, but he took quite a beating on the last project. When I saw him a few days ago, he looked like death warmed over. He needs more time to mend."

  "Pitt is a fast healer," Sandecker said confidently. "A challenge is just what he needs to get back into the swim of things. Track him down and tell him it's essential he contact me immediately."

  "I don't know where to reach him," Gunn said vaguely. "After you gave him a month's leave, he just took off without saying where he was going."

  "He's in Washington State, up to his old tricks at a place called Orion Lake."

  Gunn looked at the admiral suspiciously. "How do you know that?"

  "Hiram Yaeger sent him a truckload of underwater gear," said Sandecker, his eyes glinting like a fox's. "Hiram thought he did it on the sly, but word has a funny way of filtering up to my office."

  "Not much goes on around NUMA that you don't know about."

  "The only mystery I haven't solved is how Al Giordino smokes my expensive Nicaraguan cigars when I never find any missing."

  "Did it ever occur to you that you both might have the same source?"

  "Impossible," snorted Sandecker. "My cigars are rolled by a family who are close friends of mine in Managua. Giordino couldn't possibly know them. And while we're on the subject, where is Giordino?"

  "Lying on a beach in Hawaii," answered Gunn. "He decided it was as good a time as any to take a vacation until Dirk got back in the saddle again."

  "Those two are usually as thick as thieves. It's a rare moment when they're not causing mischief together."

  "You want me to brief Al on the situation and then send him out to Orion Lake to bring Dirk back to Washington?"

  Sandecker nodded. "A good idea. Pitt will listen to Giordino. You go along as backup. Knowing Dirk, if I called and ordered him to report back to work, he'd hang up the phone."

  "You're absolutely right, Admiral," Gunn said, smiling. "That's exactly what he would do."

  6

  JULIA LEE'S THOUGHTS, certain beliefs rather, centered around an overwhelming sense of defeat. Deep down, she knew she had botched her mission. She had made the wrong moves, said the wrong things. There was a feeling of emptiness, shrouded by despair in her mind. She had learned much about the smugglers' operation. There were ashes in her mouth as she realized that it was all for nothing. The vital information she had obtained might never be passed on to the Immigration and Naturalization Service so they could apprehend the smugglers.

  She felt a sea of pain from her sadistically inflicted injuries, sick and empty and debased. She was also deathly tired and hungry. Her self-assurance had gotten the better of her. She failed by not acting meek and subjugated. By using the skills taught her during her training as a special INS agent and given enough time, she could have easily escaped her captors before being submitted to a life of rape. Now it was too late. Julia was too badly hurt to make an all-out physical effort. It was all she could do to stand upright without getting dizzy and losing her balance before falling to her knees.

  Because of dedication to her work, Julia had few close friends. The men in her life had passed through as if they were part of a reception line, little more than acquaintances. Sadness settled over her at the thought of never seeing her mother and father again. Strangely, she was conscious of no fear or revulsion. Whatever was to happen to her in the next few hours, nothing could change it.

  Through the steel deck she sensed the engines coming to a stop.

  Without headway the ship began rolling in the swells. A minute later the anchor chain clattered through the hawsehole. The Indigo Star had anchored just outside the territorial limits of the United States to evade law enforcement action.

  Julia's watch had been taken from her during the interrogation, and all she could be certain about the time was that it was sometime in the middle of the night. She looked around at the other forty or more pathetic individuals huddled in the cargo hold, thrown in there
after the interrogations. They all began chattering excitedly, thinking they had at last reached America and were going ashore to begin a new life. Julia might have felt the same, but she knew better. The truth would strike savagely and with cold indifference. Any expectation of happiness was short-lived. They had all been deceived. These were the intelligent ones, those of wealth and substance. They had been defrauded and robbed by the smugglers, and yet they still had the look of hope about them.

  Julia was certain their immediate future would be one of terror and extortion. She looked with great sadness at two families with young children and prayed they would live to escape the smugglers and the domination by the criminal cartels waiting on shore.