Flood Tide

Su Zhong, Qin Shang's personal secretary, was sitting at a desk inside his large armored bus, which he entered after concluding his meeting with the President. As soon as he settled into a leather chair behind a desk covered with a battery of telephones and computer systems, she handed him several messages that had arrived by fax and satellite phone. Qin Shang had developed a code to frustrate any agents, government or commercial, who attempted to eavesdrop on his personal business. He ran the messages through a sca

“Any word yet from Zhu Kwan?”

Su Zhong recited a synopsis of the reports as her boss sca

“If anyone can find the whereabouts of the ship, Zhu Kwan can,” Qin Shang said confidently. “What else do you have?”

“The purchase of four Russian oil tankers has been concluded. Our company crews are in flight to Sevastopol to take command of the ships. They are scheduled to reach your yard in Hong Kong for refitting by the middle of next month.”

“Progress on the new cruise ship?”

“The Evening Star?” said Su Zhong. “Four months from completion. Our promotion department has produced preliminary art for her introduction as the largest and most luxurious cruise ship in the world.”

“And the United States. What is the latest on her status?”

“She has entered the Head of Passes at the mouth of the Mississippi River and is in transit to New Orleans. That part of your operation is going as pla

“Anything else I should know about?” asked Qin Shang warily. “Any incidents at Sungari, perhaps?”

Su Zhong shook her head. “Not Sungari.”

He could tell from the way she avoided his eyes the news was bad. “What is the story?”

“Federal agents have raided and closed down the staging depot at Bartholomeaux, Louisiana. Three hundred and forty-two immigrants were apprehended.”

“Our people?”

“Ki Wong is dead. Jack Loo of the Dragon Triad is dead. His assistant, May Ching, is in the custody of INS agents.”

Qin Shang merely shrugged. “No great loss, any of them. Jack Loo was only one cog in the American-Chinese syndicate. His death and the raid, no doubt brought about by his lax security and stupidity, offers me an excellent opportunity to renegotiate my agreement with the Dragon Triad.”

“A more profitable agreement in your favor, of course,” said Su Zhong.

“Of course,” Qin Shang said, smiling. “I would have ordered Bartholomeaux closed down in thirty-six hours anyway, once I realized my goal of making Sungari the premier shipping port on the Gulf.”

“The last report will not be to your liking,” Su Zhong murmured reluctantly.

“No review?”

“Perhaps you should absorb it with your own eyes, Qin Shang.” She nodded at the message containing a report detailing the destruction of the security post on the Mystic Canal.

As Qin Shang sca

“The accursed devil should have his tongue torn out,” Su Zhong said loyally.

“I have had many enemies in my time,” Qin Shang said quietly. “Most were business competitors. But none were as challenging as Pitt. I must say, I relish his pathetic attempts at sarcastic wit. A worthy opponent?” Qin Shang shook his head wearily. “Not really. But an opponent to be savored, not like fine caviar, but more like an American hamburger—coarse, common and primitive.”

“If he but knew where to look he would be able to view the pitiful remains of those who wished you ill and tried to obstruct your ambitions.”

“Pitt will be eliminated,” Qin Shang said in a cold voice. “So far he has merely thwarted a pair of minor projects that can be easily restored. My only concern with him now is why is he in Louisiana when my sources here in Washington informed me that NUMA was taken off all investigations involving immigrant smuggling? His dogged persistence in a

“A misguided vendetta against you, perhaps?”

“Pitt is what the Americans call a righteous do-gooder,” said Qin Shang with a rare flash of humor. “And therein lies his flaw. When he makes a mistake, as he surely will, his demise will come because he took a moral road. He has never learned that money and power, when arranged in appropriate designs, ca

April 29, 2000 The Lower Mississippi River

TWENTY MILES SOUTH OF THE HEAD OF PASSES, THAT PART OF the lower Mississippi that branches into three major cha

A tight unit of heavily armed men from Qin Shang's private security forces, led by a former colonel from the Chinese People's Liberation Army, dressed in work clothes usually worn by the men who worked the river, and carrying automatic weapons and portable missile launchers, dispersed throughout the decks as maritime crewmen went to the engine room and wheelhouse, where they took manual command of the ship's systems. Before reaching the Southwest Pass, the cha

The pilot was a heavy man with a beer belly. He was sweating heavily and dabbing a red banda

“Howdy, Captain, Sam Boone. I got lucky and won a lottery of river pilots for the honor of taking this here monstrosity up to New Orleans,” he proclaimed, pronouncing Orleans as Auwlans.

“That won't be necessary,” said Hung-chang without bothering to introduce himself. He pointed toward the short Chinese man standing at the helm who was the rudder master. “My first officer will do the job.”

Boone looked at Hung-chang queerly. “You're fu

“No,” answered Hung-chang. “We are quite capable of ru

“Now wait just a damned minute,” snorted Boone, fighting off the guards. “You're violating maritime law. You're headin' for a calamity if you're dumb enough to try navigatin' it yourself. You don't know the river like an experienced pilot. We have rigorous standards. I've been taking ships up and down the delta for twenty-five years. It might look easy to you, but believe you me, it ain't.”

Hung-chang nodded at the guards. “Lock him up. Knock him unconscious if you have to.”

“You're crazy!” Boone shouted over his shoulder as he was dragged away. “You'll ran her aground sure as hell!”

“Is he right, Ming Lin?” Hung-chang asked the rudder master. “Will you run us aground?”

Lin turned and smiled a narrow smile. “I've taken this ship upriver over two hundred times in computer-generated virtual reality in three dimensions.”

“Have you ever run aground?” Hung-chang persisted.

“Twice,” replied Ming Lin without taking his eyes off the river cha