Poseidon's Arrow (Dirk Pitt 22)

“You have something, I believe, that belongs to my country,” Pitt said.

“Are you insane?” Bolcke shouted.

“Not at all. The game is over, Bolcke. You’ve lost. Give me the plans.”

“You are a fool. We will be leaving the lock shortly—and sailing over your dead body.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Pitt said. “Your ship is grounded, and there’s no water in the culvert to refill this chamber.”

In the control house, the lock operator had come to the same conclusion. The water level where the Santa Rita sat was now considerably lower than in the next chamber. There was no way the exit gates would be opened with an uneven level on the opposite side.

“They will simply release additional water from Gatun Lake, and we shall be on our way,” Bolcke said.

“Not with the plans.”

“Kill him, Zhou.” Bolcke turned to the agent. “Kill him now.”

Zhou stood, weighing his options.

“I didn’t expect you to be lending him a free ride,” Pitt said to Zhou. “I take it you haven’t told him who blew up his facility? I guess you two have a few things to talk about.”

A cloud of suspicion crossed Bolcke’s face. “Lies,” he said. “Pure lies.” But his eyes revealed the desperate realization that his world was crashing down around him. There was nothing left for him to do but silence the messenger.

He spun to a gunman beside him and ripped the AK-47 from his hands. Aiming the weapon at Pitt, he was fumbling for the trigger when a shot rang out. A crisp red circle appeared on Bolcke’s temple, and his rage-filled eyes rolled back in his head. The Austrian miner collapsed to the deck, the automatic rifle clattering out of his hands.

Pitt saw Zhou with a Chinese 9mm pistol held at arm’s length, smoke rising from the barrel. The man slowly wheeled until he held the gun pointed at Pitt’s chest. “What if I do as Bolcke asked and kill you here?”

Pitt caught a shadow out of the corner of his eye and gave the Chinese agent a sly grin. “Then you will join me in death a second later.”

Zhou sensed, more than saw, the movement overhead. Then he looked up and saw the chamber dock lined with a dozen armed men, aiming M4 carbines at him and his crew. They were Navy sailors, deployed from the destroyer Spruance in the adjacent lock.

Zhou’s face expressed no alarm. “This is liable to create an awkward incident between our two countries,” he said.

“Would it?” Pitt asked. “Armed Chinese insurgents aboard a Guam-flagged ship apprehended while smuggling a murderous slave trader to safety? Yes, I suppose you are right. It would prove awkward to at least one of our countries.”

Zhou replied in a halting voice. “And if we return the plans?”

“Then I should think we shake hands and all go on our merry way.”

Zhou looked into Pitt’s green eyes, studying the friendly foe who had somehow gained the upper hand. He turned and spoke to one of his gunmen. The man slowly lowered his weapon and walked to the bridge. He returned a moment later with the sealed bin containing the Sea Arrow’s plans, which he reluctantly handed to Pitt.

Taking the bin, Pitt walked to the side rail and stopped. He returned to Zhou and stuck out his hand. Zhou stared at Pitt a moment before grasping his hand and shaking it vigorously.

“Thanks for saving my life,” Pitt said. “Twice.”

Zhou nodded.

“I may come to regret the first instance,” he said with the faint hint of a smile.

Pitt returned to the rail and climbed up a ladder on the side of the chamber, carefully holding the bin. When he reached the top, he waved his thanks to the Navy sailors across the dock—and then was promptly arrested by the Canal Authority security force.

EPILOGUE

RED DEATH

82

LOOKS LIKE WE’VE GOT COMPANY, BOSS.”