Flood Tide

“I have your permission to go?”

The admiral winked at Harper. “I think the INS will let NUMA carry the ball until Qin Shang puts in an appearance.”

“You'll get no argument out of me, Admiral,” said Harper cheerfully. He smiled at Julia. “You're due for a long rest, Julia, but I suspect you'll be happy to act as liaison between our two agencies during the search and salvage.”

“If you're asking me to volunteer,” she said, restraining feelings of eagerness, “the answer is an unqualified yes.”

“Any hint on what kind of guy Gallagher is?” Pitt asked Perlmutter.

“He must have been tough in his early days. His nickname of 'Hong Kong' came from all the bars he wiped butt in while his ship was in port.”

“Then he's no pussycat?”

Perlmutter chuckled. “No, I don't guess he is.”

DARK CLOUDS THREATENED BUT NO RAIN FELL AS PITT AND Julia turned off Highway 43 and took a well-graded dirt road through fruit orchards common to the shore of Lake Michigan before entering a forest of pine and birch trees. Keeping one eye on the mailboxes perched beside the road, Pitt finally spotted the one he was looking for, a box built in the shape of an old steamship and elevated by welded anchor chain. The name GALLAGHER was lettered on the hull.

“This must be the place,” said Pitt as he turned into the little grassy lane leading to a picturesque two-story log house.

He and Julia had flown into Green Bay, Wisconsin, where they rented a car for the thirty-mile drive south to Manitowoc, a port for the big ships sailing the Lakes. The Gallagher residence sat on the lakefront ten miles below the port.

Perlmutter had offered to call ahead and alert the Gallaghers to their coming, but Sandecker thought it best to arrive unexpected in case the Princess Dou Wan was not a subject the old ship's engineer wished to discuss and conveniently found a reason not to be at home.

The front of the Gallagher house faced the trees while the rear opened onto Lake Michigan. The logs had been roughhewn into squared beams before they were fitted together and chinked. The entire lower third of the house was mortared river rock that gave it a rustic look. The peaked roof was sheathed in copper that had patinated to a dark turquoise green. The windows were high and trimmed with vertical shutters. The exterior wood was stained a partridge brown with a tint of gray to make it blend perfectly with the surrounding forest.

Pitt stopped the car on a lawn that ran around the house and parked next to a roofed-over carport that housed a Jeep Grand Cherokee and a small, eighteen-foot cabin cruiser with a big outboard motor on the transom. He and Julia walked up the steps to a narrow front porch where Pitt raised a door knocker and rapped three times.

Suddenly, they could hear the yapping of small dogs inside. After a few moments the door was opened by a tall, older woman with long gray hair tied in a bow. Her eyes were star-tlingly blue and her face untouched by the advance of wrinkles. Her body had rounded during the years, but she still carried herself like a woman forty years younger. It was obvious to Julia that she had once been very beautiful. She paused to shoo a pair of short-haired dachshunds into silence.

“Hello,” she said sweetly. “The skies look like they might send us some rain.”

“Perhaps not,” replied Pitt. “The clouds appear to be passing to the west.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“My name is Dirk Pitt and this is Julia Lee. We're looking for Mr. lan Gallagher.”

“You found him,” the lady said, smiling. “I'm Mrs. Gallagher. Won't you come in?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Julia, passing through the doorway as Pitt stood aside. The dachshunds ran and sat obediently on the stairway leading up to the second floor of the house. Julia stopped and gazed in mild surprise through the entryway into the rooms beyond. She had expected to see the interior of the house decorated in Early American with a sprinkling of antiques. But this house was filled with exquisitely carved Chinese furniture and art objects. The wall hangings were embroidered with silk designs. Beautifully glazed vases stood in corners with dried floral arrangements rising from them. Delicate porcelain figurines perched on high shelves. One glass-enclosed cabinet held nearly thirty jade sculptures. The carpets lying on the wooden floors were all woven with Chinese designs.

“Oh my,” Julia gasped. “I feel like I've just walked into my mother and father's house in San Francisco.”

Mrs. Gallagher suddenly began speaking to Julia in Mandarin Chinese. “I thought you might appreciate things from the Orient.”

“May I ask if your things are very old, Mrs. Gallagher?” inquired Julia, replying in Mandarin.

“Please call me Katie. Everyone else does. It's short for Katrina.” She made a hand gesture around the house. “None go back more than fifty years. My husband and I accumulated what you see since we were married. I was born and raised in China, and we met there. We still have a great affection for its culture.” She invited them into the living room and then returned to speaking English for Pitt's benefit. “Please make yourself comfortable. May I get you some tea?” “Yes, thank you,” said Julia.

Pitt walked over to a rock fireplace and stared up at a painting of a ship that hung over the mantel. Without turning, he said, “The Princess Dou Wan.”

Mrs. Gallagher pressed both hands to her breast and let out a deep sigh. “lan always said someone would come someday.” “Who did you think would come?” “Someone from the government.” Pitt gave her a warm smile. “Your husband is very perceptive. I'm from the National Underwater and Marine Agency and Julia is an agent with the Immigration and Naturalization Service.”

She looked at Julia sadly. “I suppose you'll be wanting to deport us because we came into the country illegally.”

Pitt and Julia exchanged puzzled glances. “Why no,” he said. “We're here on a completely different matter.”

Julia walked over and put her arm around the taller woman. “You do not have to worry about the past,” she said softly. “That was a long time ago and, according to the records, both you and your husband are solid, taxpaying citizens.” “But we did some shenanigans with the paperwork.” “The less said, the better,” Julia laughed. “If you won't tell, neither will I.”

Pitt looked at Katie Gallagher curiously. “You talk as if you both entered the United States at the same time.”

“We did,” she said, nodding at the painting. “On the Princess Dou Wan.”

“You were on the ship when she sank?” asked Pitt incredulously.

“It's a strange story.”

“We'd love to hear it.”

“Please sit down and I'll bring the tea.” She smiled at Julia. “I think you'll enjoy the taste. I order it from Shanghai from the same store I used to buy it at sixty years ago.”

A few minutes later, as she poured a dark green tea, Katie told the story about how she met lan “Hong Kong” Gallagher when they both worked for the Canton Lines Shipping Company. She told of v' iting her future husband on board the Princess while the ship was being stripped for the voyage to the scrappers and how hundreds of crates were delivered to the dock and loaded aboard in the dead of night.

“One of Chiang Kai-shek's generals, a man by the name of Kung Hui—”

“We're familiar with the name,” Pitt interrupted her. “It was he who seized the ship and loaded it with a stolen cargo.”

“All done in great secrecy,” Katie agreed. “After General Hui commandeered the Princess, he refused to allow me and my little dog, Fritz, to go ashore. I was a virtual prisoner in lan's cabin from then until the ship sank in a violent storm a month later. lan knew the ship was about to break up and he made me dnss in several layers of warm clothes. Then he literally dragged me to the upper boat deck, where he threw me in a life raft. General Hui joined us just before the ship floundered and we floated free.”