Pitt gunned the tugboat past the closing gates and motored alongside the Santa Rita, bumping to a stop off its forward port deck. Gunmen appeared at once, aiming their weapons at Pitt as he lashed the tug to the ship. With his hands raised, he stepped to the rail and boarded the freighter. One of the gunmen jabbed an AK-47 against his throat and threatened him in Mandarin.

Pitt looked at him with a hard smile. “Where’s your boss?”

He didn’t have to wait for a translator. Bolcke and Zhou appeared a moment later, having watched Pitt pull alongside. Zhou looked at him with curiosity, surprised to see him again after their jungle encounter. Bolcke, on the other hand, glared at Pitt with unadulterated rage.

“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.”