Flood Tide (Dirk Pitt 14)

"Thank you for coming, General. I'm Rudi Gunn."

"Commander Gunn," said General Montaigne affably, "I've looked forward to meeting you. After my briefing by officials from the White House and INS, I'm delighted to find that I'm not the only one who believes Qin Shang to be a deviously clever menace."

"We seem to be members of a growing club."

Gunn showed the general to a chair beside the three-dimensional image of Sungari. Montaigne leaned toward the projected diorama, his hand and chin resting on the leaping frog atop his cane. "I see NUMA also uses holographic imagery to demonstrate their marine projects."

"I've heard the Army Corp of Engineers takes advantage of the same technology."

"It comes in handy to convince Congress to increase our funding.

The only difference is, our unit is designed to show fluid motion. When we brief the various committees in Washington, we like to impress them with a demonstration on the horrors of a disastrous flood."

"What's your opinion of Sungari?" asked Gunn.

Montaigne seemed lost in the image. "It's as if an alien culture came down from space and built a city in the middle of the Gobi Desert. It's all so pointless and unnecessary. I'm reminded of the old saying, All dressed up and no place to go."

"You're not impressed with it."

"As a shipping terminus, I find it about as useful as a second belly button on my forehead."

"Hard to believe Qin Shang got the necessary approval and permits for such a vast project with no profitable future," said Gunn.

"He submitted a comprehensive development plan that was approved by the Louisiana state legislature. Naturally, politicians will jump on any industrial development they think will increase employment and revenue that won't tap the taxpayers' pockets. With no obvious downside, who can blame them? The Army Corps also approved their permits for dredging because we saw no interruption in the natural flow of the Atchafalaya River. The environmentalists raised hell, of course, because of the virtual destruction of a vast area of wetlands. But all their objections and those of my own engineers concerning the future alteration of the Atchafalaya Delta were quickly brushed aside when Qin Shang's lobbyists sweet-talked Congress into fully authorizing the project. I've yet to meet a financial analyst or port-district commissioner who did not think Sungari was a failure before its plans came out of the computers."

"And yet, all permits were approved," said Gunn.

"Blessings were given by high officials in Washington, including President Wallace, who greased the path," conceded Montaigne. "Much of the acceptance was based around the new trade deals with China. Congress didn't want to upset the apple cart when Chinese trade reps threw Sungari into their proposals. And to be sure, there must have been heavy payoffs under the table by Qin Shang Maritime up and down the line."

Gunn moved around the three-dimensional projection and stared through a porthole at the actual complex two miles upriver from the Marine Denizen. The golden buildings were turning orange with the setting sun. But for two ships, the long docks were empty. "We're not dealing with a man who bets on a horse with long odds. There has to be a method to the madness for Shang to spend over a billion dollars to develop a terminus for overseas trade in such an impractical location."

"I wish someone would enlighten me as to what it is," Montaigne said cynically, "because I haven't a clue."

"And yet, Sungari does have access to State Highway 90 and the Southern Pacific rail line," Gunn pointed out.

"Wrong," snorted Montaigne. "

resently, there is no access. Qin Shang has refused to build a link to the main rail line and a paved thoroughfare to the highway. He says he's done enough. He insists that it is up to the state and federal governments to build access to his transportation network. But because of voter unrest and new budget restrictions, state bureaucrats are balking."

Gunn turned and looked at Montaigne, puzzled. "No means of ground transportation in and out of Sungari? That's insane."

Montaigne nodded at the holographic image. "Take a good look at your fancy display. Do you see an arterial roadway traveling north to Highway 90 or rail spurs connecting with the Southern Pacific tracks? The Intracoastal Waterway runs past a few miles north, but it's used mostly by pleasure craft and limited barge traffic."

Gunn studied the image closely and saw that the only access for freight up the Atchafalaya River to the north was by barge traffic. The entire port was surrounded by marshland. "This is crazy. How did he build and develop such a vast complex without construction materials trucked or shipped in by rail?"

"No materials came out of the United States. Virtually everything you see was shipped in from overseas on Qin Shang Maritime ships. The building materials, the construction equipment, all came from China, as did the engineers, supervisors and workmen. No American, Japanese or European had a hand in Sungari's development. The only material that didn't arrive from China was the landfill that came from an excavation sixty miles up the Atchafalaya."

"Couldn't he find landfill closer to the development?" asked Gunn.

"A mystery," replied Montaigne. "Qin Shang's builders barged millions of cubic yards of fill downriver by excavating a canal through the marshlands that goes nowhere."

Gunn sighed in exasperation. "How in the world does he expect to ever show a profit?"

"Until now, the cargoes of the few Chinese merchant ships that dock at Sungari have been carried inland by barge and towboat," explained Montaigne. "Even if he gave in and built a transportation system in and out of his dream port, who but the Chinese would come? Terminal facilities on the Mississippi have far superior access to major highways, rail links and an international airport. No shipping-company CEO with half a brain would divert vessels of his merchant fleet from New Orleans to Sungari."

"Could he barge cargo up and down the Atchafalaya and Red rivers to a transportation center farther north?"

"A losing proposition," Montaigne replied. "The Atchafalaya may be an inland navigable waterway, but it doesn't contain half the flow of the Mississippi. It's considered a shallow-draft artery and barge traffic is limited, unlike the Mississippi, which can accommodate great tow-boats with ten thousand horsepower pushing as many as fifty barges tied together in rows like a marching column stretching nearly a third of a mile. The Atchafalaya is a treacherous river. It may look calm and peaceful, but that is a mask that hides its true, ugly face. It waits like a gator with only its eyes and nostrils showing, ready to strike the unwary river pilot or pleasure-boat operator out for a weekend cruise. If Qin Shang thought he could build a commercial waterborne empire to support freight traffic up and down the Atchafalaya or across the Intra-coastal Waterway, he was sadly mistaken. Neither channel has been improved to handle heavy barge traffic."