Flood Tide (Dirk Pitt 14)

"My only concern was for American jobs." Wallace was standing behind his desk now, his face turning red with anger.

"If that's the case, how do you explain the fact that in the last fifteen years a total of eight hundred thousand American workers have lost their jobs to cheap Chinese labor, much of it slave labor?"

"Do not push too far, Morton," Wallace snarled through clenched jaws. "I have done nothing that will not pay dividends for the American public."

Laird crossed a hand wearily over his eyes. "I've known you too many years not to know when you're distorting the truth."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"That and more, sir. I'm calling you a traitor. And to back up my sentiments, you'll have my resignation as chief of staff on your desk within the hour. I don't want to be around when the chickens come home to roost."

With that, Morton Laird walked out of the Oval Office for the last time. Fully enlightened as to his former friend's vindictiveness, he and his wife soon dropped out of public view and moved to an island off the Great Barrier Reef of Australia, where he began to write the memoirs of his life and times in Washington with great insight into his long association with President Dean Cooper Wallace.

Su Zhong, Qin Shang's personal secretary, was sitting at a desk inside his large armored bus, which he entered after concluding his meeting with the President. As soon as he settled into a leather chair behind a desk covered with a battery of telephones and computer systems, she handed him several m

essages that had arrived by fax and satellite phone. Qin Shang had developed a code to frustrate any agents, government or commercial, who attempted to eavesdrop on his personal business. He ran the messages through a scanner that instantly translated them.

"Any word yet from Zhu Kwan?"

Su Zhong recited a synopsis of the reports as her boss scanned the translations. "Only that he is attempting to track down the location where it was rumored the Princess Dou Wan sank. He claims the pieces do not fit together as constructed."

"If anyone can find the whereabouts of the ship, Zhu Kwan can," Qin Shang said confidently. "What else do you have?"

"The purchase of four Russian oil tankers has been concluded. Our company crews are in flight to Sevastopol to take command of the ships. They are scheduled to reach your yard in Hong Kong for refitting by the middle of next month."

"Progress on the new cruise ship?"

"The Evening Star?" said Su Zhong. "Four months from completion. Our promotion department has produced preliminary art for her introduction as the largest and most luxurious cruise ship in the world."

"And the United States. What is the latest on her status?"

"She has entered the Head of Passes at the mouth of the Mississippi River and is in transit to New Orleans. That part of your operation is going as planned."

"Anything else I should know about?" asked Qin Shang warily. "Any incidents at Sungari, perhaps?"

Su Zhong shook her head. "Not Sungari."

He could tell from the way she avoided his eyes the news was bad. "What is the story?"

"Federal agents have raided and closed down the staging depot at Bartholomeaux, Louisiana. Three hundred and forty-two immigrants were apprehended."

"Our people?"

"Ki Wong is dead. Jack Loo of the Dragon Triad is dead. His assistant, May Ching, is in the custody of INS agents."

Qin Shang merely shrugged. "No great loss, any of them. Jack Loo was only one cog in the American-Chinese syndicate. His death and the raid, no doubt brought about by his lax security and stupidity, offers me an excellent opportunity to renegotiate my agreement with the Dragon Triad."

"A more profitable agreement in your favor, of course," said Su Zhong.

"Of course," Qin Shang said, smiling. "I would have ordered Bartholomeaux closed down in thirty-six hours anyway, once I realized my goal of making Sungari the premier shipping port on the Gulf."

"The last report will not be to your liking," Su Zhong murmured reluctantly.

"No review?"

"Perhaps you should absorb it with your own eyes, Qin Shang." She nodded at the message containing a report detailing the destruction of the security post on the Mystic Canal.

As Qin Shang scanned the report his eyes shifted from somber to wrathful, especially when he reached the message from Pitt. "So Mr. Pitt wonders if I still stoop to pick up bananas. He seems to take great delight in taunting me."