"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 Sungari 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."
29
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 wheel-house. 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."