Finding no hint of an intruder along the beach, the men guarding the grounds climbed off their dirt bikes and stood watching the antics of the water derby. Any attempt at piercing Shang's retreat by land could only be undertaken with any chance of success by a team from the Special Forces, who were experts in the art of stealth and camouflage. By water it was another story. A diver could easily swim under the dock and the yacht without fear of being discovered.

While he guided the AUV back to the sailboat, Pitt reeled in his fishing line until it was just under the surface. Then he sneaked the mounted salmon from the Foley cabin's fireplace into the water and ran the hook, still with the impaled night crawler, through the dried open mouth. Waving his arms conspicuously, he lifted the long-deceased salmon out of the water and held it in the air for all prying eyes to see. The two security guards on the watercraft circled him at less than fifty feet, rocking the sailboat in their wakes. Reasonably assured they would not attempt to seize him on state-government-owned water, he ignored them. Instead, Pitt faced the guards lining the shore and waved the fish back and forth like a signal flag. He watched as the guards, finding nothing suspicious they could put their teeth into, returned to the log security huts. Feeling there was no point in hanging around and greatly relieved the AUV hadn't been discovered by the guards, who seemed more interested in a fisherman than what was under the water, Pitt pulled up the anchor, raised the sail and, with the little robotic submersible following obediently behind and below the surface, headed back toward the Foleys' boathouse. After securing the sailboat and replacing the AUV in the ice chest, he removed an eight-millimeter videocassette from the camera and dropped it in his pocket.

After checking to see if the probing eye of the surveillance camera was still obstructed by the broom, he relaxed with a bottle of Martin Ray chardonnay. Pleased with himself but prudent and wary, Pitt laid his faithful, scratched and worn old Colt .45 automatic in his lap under a napkin. A gift from his father, the gun had saved his life on more than one occasion, and he never traveled without it. After he cleared up the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee, he walked into the living room, inserted the cassette from the AUV's camera package in a special adapter and slipped it into the slot of a VCR mounted on top of the cabin's television set. Then he sat hunched directly in front of the screen so the images could not be exposed to any camera still undiscovered in the living room.