"We land in Manila and wait for a John Smith to make himself known," said Pitt. "I hope there's more to the plan than that."

Sandecker went on. "Smith will escort you to the dock area, where you'll board a tired old intercoastal freighter. A singularly uncommon vessel, as you will discover. By the time you set foot on the deck, NUMA's Sea Dog II submersible will be secured aboard. Your job, when the opportunity arises, will be to inspect and photograph the hull of the United States below the waterline."

Pitt shook his head, his expression one of incredulity. "We cruise around, examining the bottom of a ship that's the length of three football fields. Shouldn't take more than forty-eight hours of downtime. Naturally, Qin Shang's security people wouldn't think of dropping sensors around the hull for just such an intrusion." He looked at Giordino. "How do you see it?"

"Like giving a nipple to a baby," Giordino said casually. "My only problem is, how does a submersible with a top speed of four knots keep up with a ship that cruises at thirty-five knots?"

Sandecker gave Giordino a long, sour look, then answered the question. "You conduct your underwater survey while the ship is docked in port. That goes without saying."

"What port have you got in mind?" asked Pitt.

"CIA informants in Sevastopol report that the ship's destination is Hong Kong, where the final interiors and furnishings will be fitted before she takes on passengers for voyages in and around port cities of the United States."

"The CIA is in on this?"

"Every investigative agency in the government is cooperating with INS until they can work together to bring the situation under control."

"The intercoastal freighter," said Pitt. "Who owns and operates it?"

"I know what you're thinking," Sandecker replied. "You can forget any connection with an intelligence agency. The vessel is privately owned. That's all I can tell you."

Giordino exhaled a large blue cloud of cigar smoke toward a tank full of fish. "There must be over a thousand miles of water between Manila and Hong Kong. Any old tramp steamer I've ever seen seldom made more than eight or nine knots. We're looking at a voyage of almost five days. Do we have the luxury of that much time?"

"You'll be docked in Hong Kong less than a quarter of a mile from the United States and staring up at her keel within forty-eight hours after leaving the Philippines," answered San-decker.

"That," said Giordino, his eyebrows raised in skepticism, "should prove interesting."

IT WAS ELEVEN O'CLOCK IN THE EVENING, PHILIPPINES TIME, when Pitt and Giordino stepped off a commercial flight from Seattle, passed through customs and entered the main terminal lobby of the Ninoy Aquino International Airport. Off to the side of a milling crowd they found a man holding a crudely lettered cardboard sign. Placards in the hands of greeters usually advertised the names of arriving passengers. This one simply said SMITH.