"Hold on." There was a pause broken by an audible click, and then Emmett heard the sound of labored breathing. He switched on the speaker amplifier so the others could hear.

"Griffin, this is Sam Emmett, can you hear me?"

"Yes, sir, very clearly." The words seemed uttered in pain. "We ran . . . ran into trouble."

"What happened?"

"We spotted a Bougainville cargo ship tied to a pier beside a barge and towboat about seventy miles below New Orleans.

Before my team and I could gain entry for a search, we were fired upon by heavy weapons mounted on the ship. Everyone was hit. . . . I have two killed and seven wounded, including myself.

It was a massacre." The voice choked and went quiet for a few moments. When it came back on the line the tone was noticeably weaker.

"Sorry for not making contact sooner, but our communications gear was shot out and I had to walk two miles before I could find a telephone."

Emmett's face took on a compassionate look. The thought of a badly wounded man trailing blood for two miles in the scorching heat of summer stirred his normally rock-hard emotions.

Sandecker moved closer to the speaker. "What of Pitt and Giordino?"

"The NUMA people and one of my agents were flying surveillance in our helicopter," Griffin answered. "They got the hell shot out of them and crashed somewhere upriver. I doubt there were any survivors."

Sandecker stepped back, his expression gone lifeless.

Emmett leaned over the speaker. "Griffin?"

His only reply was a vague muttering.

"Griffin, listen to me. Can you go on?"

"Yes, sir. . . . I'll try."

"The barge, what is the situation with the barge?"

"Tug . . . tug pushed it away."

"Pushed it where?"

"Downriver . . . last seen going toward Head of Passes."

"Head of Passes?"

"The bottom end of the Mississippi where the river splits into three main channels to the sea," answered Sandecker. "South Pass, Southwest Pass, and Pass a Loutre. Most major shipping uses the first two."

"Griffin, how long since the barge left your area?"

There was no answer, no buzzing of a broken connection, no sound at all.

"I think he's passed out," said Metcalf.

"Help is on the way. Do you understand, Griffin?"

Still no reply.

"Why move the barge out to sea?" Brogan wondered aloud.

"No reason I can think of," said Sandecker.

Emmett's phone buzzed on his interoffice line.

"There's an urgent call for Admiral Sandecker," said Don Miller, his deputy director.

Emmett looked up. "A call for you, Admiral, if you wish, you can take it in the outer office."

Sandecker thanked him and stepped into the anteroom, where Emmett's private secretary showed him to a telephone at an empty desk.

He punched the blinking white button. "This is Admiral Sandecker."

"One moment, sir," came the familiar voice of the NUMA headquarters' chief operator.

"Hello?"

"Sandecker here. Who's this?"