Flood Tide (Dirk Pitt 14)

"Secrecy will dominate the entire mission. From this minute on, you and your crew will remain on board your ship. No one steps ashore. You will have no contact with friends or family. My men will guard the ship day and night to guarantee strict security."

"I see," said Hunt, but obviously he didn't. He could not recall seeing such shifty eyes.

"As we speak," Hui continued, "all your communications equipment is being either removed or destroyed."

Hunt was stunned. "Surely you can't expect me to attempt a voyage at sea without a radio. What if we encounter difficulties and have to send out a call for assistance?"

Hui idly held up his cigarette holder and studied it. "I foresee no difficulties."

"You are an optimist, General," said Hunt slowly. "The Princess is a tired ship far beyond her prime. She is ill-prepared to cope with heavy seas and violent storms."

"I cannot impress upon you the importance and great rewards if this mission is carried out successfully. Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek will generously compensate you and your crew in gold after you successfully reach port."

Hunt stared out the window of the limousine at the rusting hull of his ship. "A fortune in gold won't do me much good when I'm lying on the bottom of the sea."

"Then we will rest together for eternity." General Hui smiled without humor. "I will be coming along as your passenger."

Captain Hunt recalled the frantic activity that quickly erupted around the Princess. Fuel oil was pumped until the tanks were filled. The ship's cook was astounded by the quality and quantity of the food carried aboard and stored in the galley. A constant stream of trucks soon began arriving, stopping beneath the huge cranes on the dock. Their cargo of large wooden crates was then lifted onto the ship and stowed in the holds, which were soon filled to capacity.

The stream of trucks seemed unending. Crates small enough to be carried by one or two men were stowed in the empty passenger cabins, vacant passageways and every available compartment below decks. Every square foot of space was crammed to the overhead decks. The final six truckloads were lashed down on the promenade decks once strolled by the passengers. General Hui had been the last to board, along with a small cadre of heavily armed officers. His luggage consisted of ten steamer trunks and thirty cases of expensive wines and cognacs.

All for nothing, Hunt thought. Beaten in the homestretch by Mother Nature. The secrecy, the intricate deception, had been for nothing. From the time they left the Yangtze, the Princess sailed silent and alone. Without communications equipment, radio calls from other passing ships went unanswered.

The captain stared down at the recently installed radar, but its sweep showed no other ship within fifty miles of the Princess. Unable to send a distress signal, there could be no rescue. He looked up as General Hui stepped unsteadily into the wheelhouse, face deathly white, a soiled handkerchief held to his lips.

"Seasick, General?" said Hunt tauntingly.

"This damned storm," Hui murmured. "Will it never end?"

"We were prophetic, you and I."

"What are you talking about?"

"Resting together on the bottom for all eternity. It won't be long now."

Gallagher rushed topside and ran, clutching the handrail for support while sliding his hand along it down the passageway to his cabin. He was neither frantic nor confused but calm and composed. He knew exactly what he must do. He always kept the door locked because of what was inside, but did not waste time fumbling for the key. He kicked the door open, smashing it against the stop.

A woman with long blond hair, wearing a silk robe, lay stretched on the bed rea

ding a magazine. She looked up startled from the sudden intrusion as a small dachshund jumped to its feet beside her and began barking. The woman's body was long and beautifully proportioned. Her complexion was smooth and flawless with high cheekbones, her eyes the vivid blue of a late-morning sky. If she stood, the top of her head would have come up to Gallagher's chin. She swung her legs to the deck gracefully and sat there on the edge of the bed.

"Come on, Katie." His hand on her wrist, he jerked her to her feet. "We've precious little time."

"Are we coming into port?" she asked in confusion.

"No, darlin'. The ship is about to sink."

Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh God!" she gasped.

Gallagher was jerking open closet doors, tearing out drawers and throwing clothes at her over his shoulders. "

ut on every piece of clothing you can get into, every pair of pants you've got and every pair of my socks you can slide over your feet. Dress in layers, thinner garb on the inside, heavier on the outside, and be quick about it. This old tub is heading for the bottom any minute."

The woman looked as if she was about to protest, then silently and quickly threw off the robe and began pulling on her underwear. She moved rapidly and purposely, wiggling first into her slacks and then Gallagher's pants. Five knit sweaters weni on over three blouses. She felt fortunate indeed that she had packed a full suitcase for her rendezvous with her fiance. When she could wear no more, Gallagher helped stuff her into one of his working jumpsuits. A pair of his boots went over her silk hose and several pairs of his socks.

The little dachshund darted between their legs, leaping up and down, ears flapping in excitement. He had been a gift from Gallagher along with an emerald engagement ring when he had proposed marriage. The dog wore a red leather collar with a gold dragon charm that swung wildly across his little chest.

"Fritz!" she scolded him. "Lie on the bed and be still."