Текст книги "Flood Tide"

Автор книги: Clive Cussler

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Текущая страница: 32 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

“Better yet, lan 'Hong Kong' Gallagher was the only survivor. He was the ship's chief engineer, so if anyone can provide details of the sinking, he can. Gallagher never went back to China but remained in the States, eventually becoming a citizen and shipping out again on an American line before retiring.”

“Is he still living?”

“My very same question to Yaeger,” answered Perlmutter with a smile wide with teeth. “He and his wife retired to a lakefront town called Manitowoc on the Wisconsin side of Lake Michigan. I have Gallagher's address and phone number right here. If he can't point the way to the wreck, nobody can.”

Pitt came over and shook Perlmutter's hand and said warmly, “You do good work, St. Julien. My congratulations on an extraordinary piece of research.”

“I'll drink to that,” said a happy Perlmutter, ignoring the tea and pouring another glass of the forty-year-old port.

“Now, Peter,” Pitt said, focusing his eyes on Harper. “My question to you is what if Qin Shang should return to the United States?”

“Unless he goes completely insane, he would never come back.”

“But if he does?”

“He'd be arrested the minute he stepped off the plane and placed in a federal prison until his trial on at least forty different charges, including mass murder.”

Pitt turned back to Perlmutter. “St. Julien, you once mentioned a respected Chinese researcher you've worked with in the past who was interested in the Princess Dou Wan.”

“Zhu Kwan. China's most renowned historian and the author of several classic books on the different dynasties. I'll have you know I followed your instructions and did not contact him for fear he might alert Qin Shang.”

“Well, now you can feed him everything you've got except lan Gallagher. And if Gallagher puts us in the ballpark, you can give that to Zhu Kwan too.”

“None of this makes sense,” said Julia, puzzled. “Why give away the art treasures by leading Qin Shang to them?”

“You and Peter, the INS, FBI and the entire Justice Department want Qin Shang. And Qin Shang wants what is on board the wreck of the Princess Dou Wan.”

“I catch your drift,” said Harper. “There is method to your madness. What you're saying is that Qin Shang is obsessed and will move heaven and earth to lay his hands on the missing art treasures, even risking arrest and exposure by sneaking back into the United States.”

“Why should he risk everything when he could just as well direct a salvage expedition from his headquarters in Hong Kong?” questioned Gunn.

“I'd bet the bank the wreck haunts his dreams and he wouldn't trust his mother to run the operation. I checked the shipping registry. Qin Shang Maritime owns a salvage vessel. The minute he sniffs the Princess Dou Wan's location, he'll send the ship and board it from Canada when it comes down the St. Lawrence River into the Great Lakes.”

“Aren't you afraid of him finding it first?” asked Julia.

“Not to fear. We won't show our hand until we've salvaged the treasure first.”

“Finding it is only the first step. Salvaging the treasure will take a year, maybe more.”

Sandecker looked doubtful. “You may be placing too much confidence in Gallagher to lead you to the wreck. He might have jumped ship before it vanished.”

“The admiral has a point,” said Gunn. “If Gallagher knew the position of the sinking, he'd have tried to salvage it himself.”

“But he hasn't,” Pitt said firmly, “simply because the artifacts have never surfaced. St. Julien can tell you, no one can cover up a treasure find. Whatever his reason, Gallagher has kept the location to himself or St. Julien would have found a record of his attempt.”

Sandecker looked mildly through the smoke of his cigar at Pitt. “How soon can you leave for Manitowoc?”

“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.”

“General Hui left the ship with you?”

“Yes, but he froze to death a few hours later. The cold was unbearable. The waves tall as houses. It was a miracle we survived.”

“You and lan were picked up?”

“No, we drifted ashore. I was within an inch of death from hypothermia, but he broke into a vacation cabin, started a fire and brought me back to life. Several days later, we made our way across the country to the house of a cousin of lan's who lived in New York. He took us in until we could stand on our own feet. We knew we couldn't go back to China after it had been taken over by the Communists, so we decided to remain in the United States, where we were married. After obtaining the proper documents, I won't say how, lan went back to sea while I raised our family. Most of those years we lived on Long Island, New York, but we vacationed every summer around the Great Lakes when the children were young and grew to love the west coast of Lake Michigan. When lan retired, we built this house. It's a good life, and we enjoy boating on the lake.”

“You were both very lucky people,” said Julia.

Katie looked longingly at a photograph of her with their children and grandchildren taken during their last Christmas reunion. There were other photos. One of a young lan standing on a dock in the Orient next to a tramp steamer was in a frame next to a beautiful blond Katrina holding a small dachshund under her arm. She wiped a tear that formed in one eye. “You know,” she said, “every time I look at that picture I feel sad. lan and I had to abandon the ship so quickly that I left my little dachshund Fritz behind in the cabin. The poor little thing went down with the ship.”

Julia looked at the two little dogs that followed Katie everywhere, tails wagging. “It looks as if Fritz is still with you, at least in spirit.”

“Do you mind if I talk to Mr. Gallagher?” asked Pitt.

“Not at all. Just go through the kitchen to the back door. You'll find him down on the boat dock.”

Pitt stepped from the kitchen door onto a long porch overlooking the lake. He walked across a lawn that sloped toward the shore and ended at a small pier that jutted out about thirty feet into the lake. He found lan “Hong Kong” Gallagher sitting on a canvas stool at the end of the pier, a fishing pole propped on a small handrail. An old, weathered slouch hat was puUed down over his eyes, and he appeared to be dozing.

The gentle movement of the pier and the sound of footsteps awakened him to Pitt's approach. “That you, Katie?” he asked in a rumbling voice.

“Afraid not,” Pitt answered.

Gallagher turned, peered at the stranger a moment from under the brim of his hat, and then refaced the lake. “I thought you might be my wife.” The words came with a soft Irish accent.

“Doing any good?”

The old Irishman reached down and pulled up a chain from the water with six good-sized fish dangling from it. “They're hungry today.”

“What do you use for bait?”

“I've tried them all, but chicken livers and worms still work the best.” Then he asked, “Do I know you?”

“No, sir. My name is Dirk Pitt. I'm with NUMA.”

“I've heard of NUMA. You conducting research on the lake?”

“No, I've come to talk to 'Hong Kong' Gallagher about the Princess Dou Wan,”

There it was. No fireworks, no drumroll, just the plain simple fact. Gallagher sat immobile. Neither the twitch of a muscle nor the tic of an eye gave away what Pitt knew had to be a shocking surprise. Finally, Gallagher sat up stiffly on his canvas stool, pulled the hat to the back of his head and fixed Pitt with a melancholy gaze. “I always knew you'd come someday, asking questions about the Princess. Who'd you say you were with again, Mr. Pitt?”

“The National Underwater and Marine Agency.”

“How did you track me down after all these years?”

“It's almost impossible to hide from computers nowadays.”

Pitt moved closer and observed that Gallagher was a big man, weighing close to 230 pounds and every bit as tall as Pitt at six feet, three inches. His face was surprisingly smooth for an old seaman, but then most all his time at sea had been spent in the engine room where it was warm and the air heavy with the smell of oil. Only the red skin and bulbous nose gave away the effects of a love for alcohol. The stomach was round and hung over his belt but the shoulders were still strong and broad. He had kept most of his hair and let it go white along with a mustache that hid his upper lip.

The fishing pole gave a jerk, and Gallagher grabbed the grip and reeled in a nice three-pound coho salmon. “They stock the lake with trout and salmon, but I miss the old days when you could pull in a big pike or muskie.”

“I talked to your wife,” said Pitt. “She told me how the two of you survived the storm and the sinking.”

“A bit of a wonder, that one.”

“She said General Hui died on the raft.”

“The scum got what he deserved,” Gallagher said, smiling tightly. “You must be aware of Hui's role in the last voyage of the Princess or you wouldn't be here.”

“I know General Hui and Chiang Kai-shek stole China's historic heritage and seized the Princess Dou Wan with the intention of secretly smuggling the treasure to the United States, where it was to be hidden.”

“That was their plan until Mother Nature stepped in.”

“It took a team of dedicated people to dig through the subterfuge,” Pitt informed him. “The fake distress signal about the ship sinking off Valparaiso, salting the water with the ship's life vests, altering the Princess Dou Wan to pass for her sister ship the Princess Yung Tai during her passage through the Panama Canal and down the St. Lawrence into the Great Lakes. The only missing piece of the puzzle was your destination.”

Gallagher cocked an eyebrow. “Chicago. Hui had arranged through the American State Department to unload the treasures at the terminal facilities at the Port of Chicago. Where they were to be sent from there, I haven't the foggiest idea. But foul weather swept in from the north. As a man familiar with the oceans, I had no conception that the Great Lakes in North America could brew up worse storms than any at sea. By God, man, since then I've seen saltwater sailors get seasick and heave their guts out during an inland-water storm.”

“They say there are over fifty-five thousand recorded shipwrecks in the Great Lakes alone,” said Pitt. “And Lake Michigan wins the prize for having swallowed more ships than all the other lakes combined.”

“The waves on the Lakes can be deadlier than those on any ocean,” Gallagher maintained. “They pile up thirty feet and come at you much faster. Ocean waves swell and roll from only one direction. Great Lakes waves are more treacherous and relentless. They seethe and gyrate like a maelstrom from every direction at once. No sir, I've seen cyclones in the Indian Ocean, typhoons in the Pacific and hurricanes in the Atlantic, but I'm telling you, there is nothing more terrible than a winter tempest on the Great Lakes. And the night the Princess went down was one of the worst.”

“Unlike the sea, there is almost no room to maneuver a ship on the Lakes,” said Pitt.

“That's a fact. A ship can run before the storm at sea. Here she must continue on course or founder.” Gallagher then told of the night the Princess Dou Wan broke up and sank. He spoke of it as though it was a recurring dream. The fifty-two years since had not dimmed his memory of the tragedy. Every detail seemed as fresh as if it happened the day before. He told of the suffering he and Katie had endured, and how General Hui froze to death in the raft. “After we came ashore, I pushed the raft with Hui still in it back into the raging waters of the lake. I never saw him again and often wondered if his body was found.”

“Can I ask you where the ship foundered? In which Great Lake?”

Gallagher hooked the fish through the gill on the chain and dropped it in the water beside the pier before answering. Then he raised his hand and pointed toward the east. “Right out there.”

At first Pitt didn't get it. He thought Gallagher was referring to any one of the four Great Lakes that lay to the east. Then it hit him. “Lake Michigan? The Princess Dou Wan sank here in Lake Michigan, not far from where we stand?”

“I'd guess about twenty-five miles slightly southeast from here.”

Pitt was elated and numb at the same time: This revelation was too good to be true: The wreck of the Princess Dou Wan and its priceless treasure were lying only twenty-five miles away. He turned and stared at Gallagher. “You and Mrs. Gallagher must have been cast ashore nearby.”

“Not close by,” Gallagher said, smiling. “This exact spot where the pier sits. We tried for years to buy this property for sentimental reasons, but the owners wouldn't sell. Only after they died did their kids let us have it. We tore down the old cabin they used for family vacations on the lake, the same cabin that saved Katie and me from freezin' to death. It was in poor shape, so we tore it down and built the house you see. We figured we was given a second chance in life and it would be a good idea to spend our remaining years at the very spot we were reborn.”

“Why didn't you look for the wreck and salvage the artifacts yourself?”

Gallagher gave a short laugh and slowly shook his head. “What good would it do? The Communists still run China. They would claim it as theirs. I'd be lucky to keep a nail out of one of them packing crates they rest in.”

“You might have filed a claim for yourself and become a very rich man.”

“The Communists wouldn't be the only vultures to come gatherin' around. The minute I'd begin pulling up them antiques, the bureaucrats from the states of Wisconsin, Michigan and the federal government would have come down all over me. I'd have ended up spending more time in court than salvaging the wreck and paying attorneys more than I'd make out of it.”

“You're probably right,” said Pitt.

“You bet I'm right,” snorted Gallagher. “I did a bit of treasure-hunting myself when I was young. It never paid off. You make a strike and, besides having to fight the government, other treasure hunters appear like locusts to rape your wreck. No, Mr. Pitt, my family was my riches. I figured, leave well enough alone. The treasure ain't goin' anywhere. When the proper time comes, I always thought, somebody will salvage it for the good of the people. In the meantime, I've been perfectly content without it.”

“There aren't many men who think like you do, Mr. Gallagher,” said Pitt with respect.

“Son, when you're as old as I am, you see there are a lot more things in life than owning a fancy yacht and a jet plane.”

Pitt smiled at the old man on the canvas stool. “Mr. Gallagher, I like your style.”

Ian cleaned his catch of fish, and Katie insisted Dirk and Julia stay for dinner. They also offered to put them up for the night, but Pitt was anxious to return to Manitowoc, find a place to use as a headquarters for the search-and-salvage project, and call Sandecker with the news. During dinner, the two women happily chatted away in Mandarin Chinese while the men swapped sea stories.

“Was Captain Hunt a good man?” “No better seaman ever trod a deck.” Gallagher stared sadly through the window out onto the lake. “He's still out there. He went down with the ship. I saw him standin' in the wheelhouse as calm as if he was waitin' for a table at a restaurant.” He turned back to Pitt. “I hear the cold fresh water preserves things, unlike salt water and sea creatures that eat bodies and ships until there's nothing left.”

Pitt nodded. “Not long ago, divers brought up an automobile from a car ferry that had been on the bottom of this same lake for nearly seventy years. The upholstery was still sound, the tires still held air, and after drying out the engine and carburetor, and changing the oil, they charged the original battery and started the car. It was then driven to an auto museum in Detroit.”

“Then the Chinese treasures should be in good shape.”

“Most of it, I should imagine, especially the bronze and porcelain artworks.”

“Wouldn't that be a sight,” Gallagher said wistfully, “seeing all them antiques lying there on the bottom of the lake.” Then he shook his head and rubbed eyes that were beginning to moisten. “But it would tear my heart out to look at the poor old Princess.”

“Perhaps,” said Pitt, “but she found a more noble death than if she was torn apart by the scrappers in Singapore.”

“You're right,” Gallagher said solemnly. “She did find a noble death.”

IN THE MORNING PlTT AND JULIA BADE THE GALLAGHERS A fond good-bye and checked into an attractive bed and breakfast in Manitowoc. While she unpacked, Pitt called Sandecker and filled him in on their meeting with the Gallaghers.

“You mean to tell me,” Sandecker said in amazement, “that one of the world's greatest treasures has been sitting under everyone's nose for the past half century, and Gallagher told no one?”

“The Gallaghers are your kind of people, Admiral. Unlike Qin Shang, they were never driven by greed. They felt it was best not to disturb the wreck until the proper time.”

“They should receive a fat reward as a finders' fee.”

“A grateful government may make the offer, but I doubt if they'll accept it.”

“Incredible,” said Sandecker quietly. “The Gallaghers have restored my faith in the human race.”

“Now that we have a ballpark, we're going to require a proper search-and-survey vessel.”

“I'm way ahead of you,” Sandecker said smoothly. “Rudi has already hired a fully equipped search boat. The crew is on its way to Manitowoc from Kenosha. The boat's name is Divercity. Because we have a requirement for secrecy to consider, I felt you'd attract less attention with a smaller vessel. Not wise to advertise a hunt for a treasure of inestimable value. If word leaked, a thousand treasure seekers would flood onto Lake Michigan like a school of piranha in a pond stocked with catfish.”

“A phenomenon that takes place with every treasure find,” Pitt concurred.

“And in the hope and anticipation that you'll make a successful discovery, I've also ordered the Ocean Retriever off a project on the Maine coast and directed her to Lake Michigan.”

“The perfect choice. She's ideally equipped for intricate salvage work.”

“She should arrive on site and be in position over the wreck within four days.”

“You planned and arranged all this before you knew if Gallagher could lead us to the wreck?” Pitt asked incredulously.

“Again, anticipation.”

Pitt's admiration of Sandecker never ceased. “You're a tough man to keep up with. Admiral.”

“I always hedge my bets.”

“I can see that.”

“Good luck, and let me know how it goes.”

With Julia in tow, Pitt spent the day talking to local divers about water conditions and studying charts of the lake bed in the general location of the Princess Don Wan. The following morning at the crack of dawn, they parked the car at Manitowoc's yacht basin and walked along the dock until they found the Divercity and her crew waiting for them.

The boat, a twenty-five-foot Parker with a cabin, was powered by a 250 Yamaha outboard. Functional and electronically well equipped with a NavStar differential global-positioning system interfaced with a state of the art PC and Geometerics 866 marine magnetometer, the Divercity also mounted a Klein side-scan sonar that would play a key role in seeking out the remains of the Princess Don Wan. For a close-up identification, the boat carried a Benthos MiniRover MK II underwater robotic vehicle.

The experienced crew consisted of Ralph Wilbanks, a big, jolly man in his early forties with expansive brown eyes and a bristling mustache; and his partner, Wes Hall, easygoing, soft-spoken and smoothly handsome, who could have doubled for Mel Gibson.

Wilbanks and Hall greeted Pitt and Julia warmly and introduced themselves. “We didn't expect you this early,” said Hall.

“Up with the birds, that's us,” Pitt said, nodding humorously. “How was your trip from Kenosha?”

“Calm water all the way,” answered Wilbanks.

Both men spoke in a soft Southern accent. Pitt liked them almost immediately. He didn't need a drawing to see they were a professional, job-dedicated pair. They watched amused as Julia jumped from the dock, landing on the deck with the finesse of a limber cat. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater under a nylon windbreaker.

“She's a fine, no-nonsense boat,” said Pitt, admiring the Divercity.

Wilbanks nodded in agreement. “She does the job.” He turned to Julia. “I hope you don't mind roughing it, ma'am. We're not equipped with a head.”

“Don't worry about me,” Julia said, smiling. “I've got an iron bladder.”

Pitt looked across the water of the little harbor at the seemingly endless lake. “Light breeze, one– to two-foot waves, conditions look good. Are we ready to cast off?”

Hall nodded and unwound the mooring lines from the dock's cleats. Just as he was about to climb on board, he pointed down the dock at a figure awkwardly approaching and waving wildly. “Is he with you?”

Pitt found himself staring at Al Giordino, who was stomping across the wooden planks on a pair of crutches, his wounded leg encased in a plaster cast from ankle to crotch. Giordino flashed his celebrated smile and said, “A pox on your house for thinking you could leave me onshore while you got all the glory.”

Happy to see his old friend, Pitt said, “You can't say I didn't try.”

Wilbanks and Hall gently lifted Giordino over the side and sat him on a long cushion that lay on a raised hump in the middle of the boat. Pitt introduced him to the crew as Julia fussed over him and pressed a cup of coffee in his hand from a thermos she carried in a picnic basket.

“Shouldn't you be in a hospital?” she asked.

“I hate hospitals,” Giordino grumbled. “Too many people die in them.”

“Is everyone aboard who's coming aboard?” Wilbanks inquired.

“All present and accounted for,” replied Pitt.

Wilbanks grinned and said, “Then let's do it.”

As soon as they cleared the harbor, Wilbanks pushed the throttle forward and the Divercity leaped ahead, bow clear of the water, until she was skimming the waves at nearly thirty miles an hour. While Julia and Giordino sat aft, enjoying the view and the beginning of a spectacular day under a sky decorated with clouds drifting overhead like a grazing herd of white buffalo, Pitt gave Wilbanks his chart with an X marked twenty-five miles just south of east frorh the Gallagher's house. He had enclosed the X within a five-mile-by-five-mile search grid. Wilbanks then programmed the coordinates into the computer and watched as the numbers came up on the monitor. Hall busied himself studying the photos and dimensions of the Princess Dou Wan.