"You're wounded?" both men said in unison.
"Hardly a life-threatening puncture, but I'm not keen to get gangrene."
The show of obstinacy was tremendously effective. Giordino nodded at Gunn. "You find Dirk a doctor, I'll take care of the boat. Then we'll check out the nearest restaurant. This looks like a good town for boiled crab."
"There is one more thing," said Pitt.
The two men stared at him expectantly.
"What's this urgent project I have to drop everything for?"
"It involves an underwater investigation of a strange shipping port near Morgan City, Louisiana," answered Gunn.
"What's so strange about a shipping port?"
"Its location in a swamp, for one thing. That, and the fact the developer is the head of a large-scale international alien-smuggling empire."
"Heaven help me," Pitt said piously, throwing up his hands. "Say it isn't true."
"You have a problem?" Giordino asked.
"I've been up to my ears in illegal immigrants for the past twelve hours-that's the problem."
"It's truly amazing how you can gather on-the-job experience with such ease."
Pitt fixed his friend with an icy stare. "I suppose our divine government thinks the port is being used to smuggle in aliens."
"The facility is far too elaborate for that alone," replied Gunn. "We've been given the job of discovering its true purpose."
"Who built and developed the port?"
"An outfit by the name of Qin Shang Maritime Limited out of Hong Kong."
Pitt didn't throw an apoplectic fit. He didn't even bat an eyelid. He did look, however, as if he'd been punched in the pit of his stomach. His face took on the expression of a man in a horror movie who just found out his wife ran away with the monster. His fingers bit deeply, painfully, into Gunn's arm. "You did say Qin Shang?"
"That's right," answered Gunn, wondering how he would explain the black-and-blue marks at his gym. "He directs an empire of malignant activities. Possibly the fourth-richest man in the world. You act as though you know him."
"We've never met, but I'm safe in saying he hates my guts."
"You're kidding," said Giordino.
Gunn looked puzzled. "Why would a man who has more money than a New York City bank hate an ordinary screwup like you?"
"Because," Pitt said with a fiendish grin, "I torched his yacht."
When Kung Chong failed to report the destruction of the runabout, and efforts to contact him were returned by silence, Lo Han knew his trusted assistant and the five men who flew with him were all dead. The realization was accompanied by the sickening certainty that the devil who caused so much grief had escaped.
He sat alone in the mobile security vehicle, trying to make some sense of the disaster. His black eyes had a vacant stare, his face was tight and cold. Kung Chong had reported seeing immigrants in the runabout. Their appearance seemed a mystery since all the prisoners were accounted for in their cells. Then a thought exploded in his mind. Chu Deng. That idiot on the catamaran must have somehow allowed the immigrants marked for execution to escape. There was no other conclusion. The man who was taking them to safety must have been in the pay of the American government.
Then, as if to ram home the revelation, his eyes traveled to the video monitors and observed two large helicopters landing beside the main building. In a synchronized assault armored cars broke through the barricade on the road leading to the main highway. Men poured from the aircraft and vehicles and rushed into the building. There was no pause, no demand for those inside to lay down their weapons and surrender peacefully.
The raiders burst inside the prison compound before Lo Han's guards knew what was happening. It was as if the INS agents knew the prisoners were to be killed in the event of a raid. It became obvious that they were well informed by someone who had made a reconnaissance of the retreat.
Quickly realizing that resistance against a large force of armed law-enforcement agents was hopeless, Lo Han's security force meekly submitted individually and in groups. Numb with defeat, Lo Han leaned back in his chair and entered a series of codes into his satellite communication system and waited for a reply from Hong Kong.
A voice answered in Chinese. "You have reached Lotus II."
"This is Bamboo VI," said Lo Han. "Operation Orion has been compromised."