He nodded. “It is.”
“My ID was made on the Indigo Star. Thanks to a double agent on Qin Shang's payroll, his security people have a file on me a mile long.”
“The FBI thinks they have a prime suspect and are maintaining surveillance on him.”
“I don't see how I could take Lin Wan Chu's identity and not be caught,” Julia said solemnly. “Especially during a long voyage.”
“You only have to be Lin Wan Chu for four, maybe five, hours at the most. Just enough time to slip into the ship's routine and hopefully discover how Qin Shang is smuggling his illegal cargo of immigrants onto land.”
“You know for a fact the Sung Lien Star has aliens hidden on board?”
“A CIA undercover agent in Qingdao reported that he observed over a hundred men, women and children with luggage being unloaded from buses in the dead of night who were herded into a warehouse on the dock beside the ship. Two hours later, the Sung Lien Star sailed. At daylight, the agent found the warehouse empty. A hundred-some-odd people had mysteriously disappeared.”
“And he thinks they were smuggled on board the ship?”
“The Star is a large container ship with the capacity to hide a hundred warm bodies, and its destination is the port of Sun-gari in Louisiana. There seems little doubt that she's another one of Qin Shang's illegal-immigrant smuggling vessels.”
“They make me this time,” said Julia seriously, “and I'll be shark bait in less time than it takes to tell about it.”
“The risk is not as high as you think,” Harper assured her. “You won't be working alone like you did on the Indigo Star. You'll carry a concealed radio and be monitored every minute. Backup will be no less than a mile away.”
When it came to daring the unknown, Julia was as fearless as any man, more so than most. Her adrenaline was already rising at the thought of walking a tightrope.
“There is one problem,” she said quietly.
“What is that?”
A little grimace twisted the shapely red mouth. “My mother and father taught me gourmet cooking. I've never prepared basic slop in quantity before.”
THE MORNING WAS BRIGHT WITH A HIGH CLEAR SKY FLECKED by small cloud puffs scattered about like popcorn spilled on a blue carpet as Pitt leveled out the little Skyfox flying boat and flew over the terminal buildings and docks of Sungari. He circled and made several passes, skimming less than a hundred feet above the tops of the big cranes that were lifting wooden cargo crates from the holds of the only freighter moored along an otherwise deserted dock. The merchant ship was sandwiched between the dock and a barge with a towboat.
“Must be a slow business day,” observed Giordino from the copilot's seat.
“One ship offloading cargo at a port facility built to handle an entire fleet,” said Pitt.
“Qin Shang Maritime Limited's profit-and-loss ledger must be awash in red ink.”
“What do you make of the barge?” asked Pitt.
“Looks like trash day. The crew appears to be throwing plastic sacks over the side into the barge.”
“See any signs of security?”
“The place sits in the middle of a swamp,” said Giordino staring down into the surrounding marshlands. “The only duty for security guards would be to shoo off itinerant alligators, which I hear are hunted around these parts.”
“A big business,” Pitt said. “Their skins are used for shoes, boots and purses. Hopefully, laws will be passed to restrict the alligator killing long before they become an endangered species.”
“That tugboat and garbage barge are beginning to pull away from the hull of the freighter. Make a swing over them when they get into open water.”
“Not tugboat, you mean towboat.”
“A misnomer. Why call them towboats when they push instead of pull barges through inland waterways?”
“A collection of connecting barges is called a tow, hence, towboat.”
“They should be called pushboats,” Giordino grumbled.
“I'll take your suggestion up at the next river pilot's annual high-water ball. Maybe they'll give you a free pass on a ferryboat.”
“I already get one of those every time I buy ten gallons of gas.”
“Coming around.” Pitt tilted the control column slightly, banking the Lockheed Skyfox two-seater jet aircraft and leveling out for a few hundred yards before flying over the five-story-high towboat with its square bow burrowed against the stern of a single barge. A man stepped from the towboat's wheelhouse and furiously motioned the aircraft away. As the Skyfox skimmed over the towboat, Giordino caught a quick glimpse of a dirty, unfriendly look on a face that harbored suspicions.
“The captain acts paranoid about prying eyes.” “Maybe we should drop him a note asking directions to Ireland,” Pitt said facetiously as he banked the Skyfox for another pass. Formerly a military jet trainer, the aircraft was purchased by NUMA and modified for water landings with a waterproof hull and retractable floats. With twin jet engines mounted on the fuselage behind the wings and cockpit, the Skyfox was often used by NUMA personnel when one of their larger executive jets was not required, and because it could land and take off from water, it was especially useful for offshore transportation.
This time Pitt came in no more than thirty feet over the towboat's funnel and electronic gear, which sprouted from the roof of the wheelhouse. As they flashed past the boat and over the barge, Giordino spotted a pair of men throwing themselves prone amid the trash bags in an effort to make themselves indiscernible.
“I've got two men carrying automatic rifles who made a bad job of trying to look invisible,” Giordino announced as calmly as if he was calling guests to dinner. “Methinks there is skulduggery afoot.”
“We've seen all we're going to see,” said Pitt. “Time to meet up with Rudi and the Marine Denizen.” He made a sweeping turn and set the Skyfox on a course down the Atcha-falaya River toward Sweet Bay Lake. The research ship soon came into view, and he lowered the flaps and dropped the floats in preparation for landing. He flared the aircraft, allowing it gently to kiss the calm water and throw up a light sheet of spray from the floats. Then Pitt taxied alongside the research ship and killed the engines.
Giordino raised the canopy and waved up to Rudi Gunn and Captain Frank Stewart, who were standing at the railing. Stew-art turned and shouted an order. The boom from the ship's crane swung around until it was hovering over the Skyfox. The cable was lowered and Giordino attached the hook and lines to the lifting rings on the top of the aircraft's wings and fuselage before catching guy ropes from the crew. A signal was given and the crane's engine shifted into gear and hoisted up the Skyfox. Water fell in cascades from the hull and floats as the Coast Guard crew manning the guy ropes pulled the aircraft into the proper attitude. Once clearance was achieved, the crane swung the aircraft over the side and lowered it onto a landing pad on the stern deck next to the ship's helicopter. Pitt and Giordino climbed from the cockpit and shook hands with Gunn and Stewart.
“We watched through binoculars,” said Stewart. “If you had circled Sungari any lower you could have rented a headset and cassette and taken a self-guided tour of the place.”
“See anything interesting from the air?” asked Gunn.
“Odd that you should mention that,” said Giordino. “I do believe we just might have viewed something we weren't supposed to.”
“Then you've seen more than we have,” muttered Stewart.
Pitt gazed at a pelican that folded its wings and dove cleanly into the water, emerging with a small fish in its scooplike beak.