Flood Tide - Cussler Clive (книги регистрация онлайн txt) 📗
Twenty seconds later a sharp thump sounded through the water. At first Qin Shang was mystified as he felt the Sea Lotus shudder. Too late he realized that Pitt's brave defiance against overwhelming odds was a diversion for an attack from another source. And then he watched in growing horror as a spiderweb of tiny fractures spread across the upper wall of the pressure chamber. Suddenly water burst inside as if shot from a small cannon. The pressure chamber maintained its integrity and did not implode, but the incoming flood spelled its doom.
Qin Shang froze in cold fright as the water rose higher and higher, rapidly filling the small interior of the submersible. He frantically switched on the pumps to drain the ballast tanks and hit the lever to drop the heavy weights beneath the keel. The Sea Lotus sluggishly ascended for several feet and then hung there as the flooding water neutralized its buoyancy. Then it slowly began to fall, settling into the bottom and throwing up a thin cloud of silt.
Now in mindless panic, Qin Shang desperately tried to open the outer hatch in an insane attempt to reach the surface 430 feet above, an impossible gesture because of the immense water pressure outside.
Pitt moved the Newtsuit through the cloud of silt and gazed through the submersible's viewing window, remembering the sight of the bodies strewn in the depths of Orion Lake as the Chinese arch-criminal pulled himself up into a rapidly compressing air pocket for one last breath before the icy water of the lake filled his nose and open, screaming mouth. The screams were soon choked off until the only sound coming from the Sea Lotus was the gurgling of escaping bubbles. Then, as if set on a timer, the halogen lights blinked out, throwing the submersible into total darkness.
Pitt was sweating heavily inside the Newtsuit. He stood on the bottom, staring with grim satisfaction at the underwater tomb of Qin Shang. The billionaire shipping magnate, who had dominated and exploited and slain thousands of innocent people, would spend eternity in the deep next to the empty treasure ship that had obsessed most of his waking life. It was a fitting end, Pitt thought without the slightest sense of pity.
He glanced up as Giordino reappeared in the Sappho IV. “You took your sweet time. I might have been killed.”
Giordino hovered the sub until their faces behind the protective transparent shields were no more than two feet apart. “I can't tell you how much I enjoyed the show,” he laughed. “If you could have only seen yourself in that Pillsbury Doughboy suit playing Errol Flynn with a pipe as a sword.”
“Next time, you do the hard part.”
“Qin Shang?” asked Giordino.
Pitt pointed a pincer at the inert submersible. “Where he belongs.”
“How are you fixed for air?”
“Down to twenty minutes.”
“No time to waste. Stand still until I can connect up my cable to the lift ring on top of your helmet. Then I'll tow you to the surface.”
“Not just yet,” said Pitt. “I've got a little task to perform.”
He activated the little thrusters on the Newtsuit and moved up the sides of the superstructure until he came to the wheel-house. The bulkheads had been torched away for entry and for the removal of the treasures packed in the passageways and former passenger staterooms. He quickly studied a diagram of the ship's interior that he had taped to the globular view plate and began propelling the pressurized suit past the captain's cabin next to the wheelhouse to the next cabin beyond. Amazingly, the furnishings were still relatively intact and jumbled about the small compartment. After only a few minutes' search, Pitt found what he was looking for and removed a small pouch from the utility belt on the Newtsuit and filled it with objects from one corner of the cabin.
“You'd better get a move on,” came Giordmo's worried voice.
“On my way,” Pitt complied.
With three minutes to spare, the Sappho TV and the Newtsuit surfaced one behind the other and were lifted on board the Ocean Retriever. As the technicians worked to remove Pitt from the big dive suit, he looked across the water at Qin Shang's Jade Adventurer. A boarding party from the Coast Guard cutter was routinely examining the ship's papers before ordering it out of American waters.
When he was finally free of the ponderous suit, Pitt leaned wearily over the railing and gazed down into the water as Julia came up behind him and ran her arms around his waist, clasping her hands across his stomach. “I was worried about you,” she said softly.
“I put my trust in Al and Rudi, knowing they would never fail.”
“Is Qin Shang dead?” she asked, certain of the answer.
He held her head between his hands and looked down into her gray eyes. “He's only a bad memory it pays to forget.”
She pulled back, her face suddenly disturbed. “When word leaks out that you killed him, you're going to be in big trouble with the government.”
Despite the exhaustion, Pitt threw back his head and laughed. “Dearheart, I'm always in big trouble with the government.”
Dirk Pitt 14 - Flood Tide
EPILOGUE
Dirk Pitt 14 - Flood Tide
FRITZ
Dirk Pitt 14 - Flood Tide
July 31, 2000 Washington, D.C.
PRESIDENT DEAN COOPER WALLACE WORKED LATE HOURS IN his office in his secret living quarters at Fort McNair and thought nothing of inconveniencing his staff and visitors for meetings in the middle of the night. He did not rise from behind his desk as Commissioner Duncan Monroe, Admiral Sandecker and Peter Harper were escorted into the office by his newly appointed chief of staff, Harold Pecorelli. Nor did he invite his visitors to sit down.
Wallace was not a happy man.
The news media was crucifying him for his relations with Qin Shang, now accused of conspiracy for the destruction and deaths along the Mississippi River. To make matters worse, the Chinese leaders had thrown Qin Shang on their sacrificial altar and denied any association with him. The head of Qin Shang Maritime Limited had disappeared, and even the Chinese government was at a loss as to his whereabouts. The Jade Adventurer was still at sea on its way back to China. Throughout the voyage from Lake Michigan, Captain Chen Jiang had maintained radio silence, not wanting to be the one to announce Qin Shang's death at the hands of the Americans.
At the same time, Wallace took great delight in pretending
that he played a key role in the discovery and salvage of the Chinese art treasures. Negotiations were already under way for their return to mainland China. Photojournalists and television news cameras had a field day recording the incredible display of artifacts as they were removed from the original teak packing crates and prepared for preservation. The bones of Peking man by themselves caused an international sensation.
Advised that it was not in his best interests to interfere, Wallace remained quiet as the INS and FBI, working hand in hand, rounded up nearly three hundred Chinese gang leaders and members around the country and arraigned them for trial. Thousands of illegal immigrants working in virtual slavery were taken into custody for later deportation back to China. The flow of illegal aliens coming in from Asia may not have been plugged completely, but the smuggling operations were cut back drastically.
The President's closest advisers, having observed the recklessness of the previous chief executive in conducting cov-erups, strongly advised Wallace simply to admit that mistakes were made and make no excuses. Any errors of judgment were made for what he thought was the good of the country. Damage control was already in high gear to sidestep any criticism encountered along his way for election to a second term.
“You stepped far beyond the bounds of your office,” Wallace said, directing his wrath toward Monroe. “And you did it without briefing anyone in my office regarding your intent.”
