Flood Tide

“Although we never had time to compare notes, I'm certain Dirk acted on his own without orders from his superior.”

By the time Harper and Russell had asked her a barrage of questions and changed the cassette in the recorder four times, Julia was fighting a losing battle with fatigue. She had journeyed far beyond the call of duty, and now all she wanted was sleep. After her face returned to an assemblage of normality, she hoped to see her family, but not before.

Almost in a trancelike state, she wondered how Dirk Pitt would have described the events had he been there. She smiled, knowing that he would have probably reacted by making a joke out of the whole exploit, making light of his actions and participation. How odd, she thought, that I can predict his reactions and thoughts when I knew him for less than a few hours.

“You've been through more than any of us had any right to expect,” said Russell, seeing that Julia was having a hard time keeping her eyes open.

“You're a credit to the service,” Harper said sincerely as he switched off the recorder. “A fine report. Because of you an important link in the smuggling of illegal immigrants is history.”

“They'll just pop up somewhere else,” said Julia, stifling a yawn.

Russell shrugged. “Too bad we don't have enough evidence to convict Qin Shang in an international court of law.”

Julia suddenly became alert. “What are you saying? Not enough evidence? I have proof the phony cruise ship, filled with illegal aliens, was registered to Qin Shang Maritime Limited. That alone, plus the bodies lying in Orion Lake, should be enough to indict and convict Qin Shang.”

Harper shook his head. “We checked. The ship was legally registered to an obscure shipping company in Korea. And though Shang's representatives handled all real-estate transactions, the Orion Lake property is in the name of a holding company in Vancouver, Canada, by the name of Nanchang Investments. Offshore corporations with one dummy corporation leading to another in different countries is quite common, and makes it tough to trace the thread to the mother company and its owner, directors and stockholders. As rotten as it sounds, no international court of law would convict Qin Shang.”

Julia looked vacantly through the window of her room. Between two buildings she could just make out the gray, ominous buildings of Alcatraz, the famous and now abandoned prison. “Then everything,” she said disgustedly, “the sacrifice of i

“On the contrary,” Harper assured her. “Your information is invaluable. Nothing comes easy, and it will take time, but sooner or later we're going to put Qin Shang and his kind out of business.”

“Peter is right,” added Russell. “We've only won a minor skirmish in the war, but we've cut off an important tentacle of the octopus. We also have a new insight into China's smuggling-operations policy. Our jobs have become a bit easier now that we know which back alleys to investigate.”

Harper gathered up his briefcase and headed for the door. “We'll be on our way and let you rest.”

Russell patted her gently on the shoulder. “I wish I could send you on extended leave, courtesy of the INS, but headquarters wants you in Washington as soon as you're up and about.”

“I'd like to ask a favor,” said Julia, stopping both men at the door.

“Name it,” said Russell.

“Except for a brief visit with my mother and father here in San Francisco, I would like to return to duty by the begi

Russell looked at Harper, who smiled. “That goes without saying,” said Russell. “Why do you think they want you in Washington? Who in INS knows more about Shang's alien-smuggling operation than you?”

After they left, Julia made one last effort to fight off creeping drowsiness. She picked up the bedside phone, dialed an outside line and then the area code and number for long-distance information. Obtaining the number, she called the NUMA headquarters building in Washington and asked for Dirk Pitt.

She was put through to his secretary, who informed her that Pitt was out on vacation and had not returned to work yet. Julia hung up the phone and settled her head into the pillows. In some odd ma

PlTT AND GlORDINO NEVER MADE IT BACK TO WASHINGTON. When they returned the helicopter to the NUMA marine-science laboratory in Bremerton through a rainstorm, they found Admiral Sandecker waiting for them. Most men in Sandecker's position would have remained in a dry office, sitting comfortably on a couch drinking coffee, making others come to him. But he did not march to the same drummer as most. Sandecker stood outside in a misting rain, raising his arm to shield his face from the clouds of spray that swirled beneath the rotor blades of the aircraft. He remained standing until the blades spun to a stop before stepping toward the hatch. He waited patiently until Gu

“I expected you over an hour ago,” grunted Sandecker.

“We weren't forewarned you'd be here, Admiral,” said Gu

“I changed my mind,” Sandecker said gruffly. Not seeing anyone left in the cockpit, he looked at Giordino. “Didn't you bring Dirk with you?”

“He slept like a rock between Grapevine Bay and here,” answered Giordino without his usual grin. “He's not in the best of shape. As if he wasn't already a classic case of battle fatigue when he arrived at Orion Lake, he had to go and get himself shot again.”

“Shot?” Sandecker's face clouded. “Nobody told me he'd been shot. How bad is it?”

“Not serious. Luckily, the bullet just missed the pelvis, going hi and coming out the upper side of his right buttock. A doctor in Grapevine examined and dressed the wound. He insisted that Dirk shouldn't be up and ru

“Did two shots of tequila do it?” Sandecker asked cynically.

“More like four.” Giordino turned as Pitt emerged from the helicopter. “See for yourself.”

Sandecker looked up and found himself looking at a man dressed like a backwoods hiker, thin and played out, as if he'd been existing on little else but berries in a forest. His hair was tangled in every direction, face drawn and haggard but split by a smile as broad as a highway billboard with eyes clear and intense.

“By God, it's the admiral,” Pitt boomed. “You're the last man I expected to see standing out in the rain.”

Sandecker wanted to laugh, but he fixed a frown on his face and spoke as if angered. “I thought it might be nice to demonstrate my charitable disposition and save you a five-thousand-mile round trip.”

“You don't want me back at my desk?”

“No. You and Al are leaving for Manila.”

“Manila,” said Pitt, puzzled. “That's in the Philippines.”

“It hasn't been moved that I was aware of,” Sandecker said.

“When?”

“Within the hour.”

“Within the hour?” Pitt stared at him.

“I've booked you on a commercial flight across the Pacific. You and Al will be on it.”

“What are we supposed to do once we get to Manila?”

“If you'll come in out of the rain before we drown, I'll tell you.”

After Pitt was ordered to drink two cups of coffee, Sandecker gathered his finest team of ocean engineers in the privacy of an aquarium. Sitting among tanks filled with North Pacific sea life under study by NUMA marine biologists, the admiral briefed Pitt and Giordino on the meeting he and Gu