But finally they had arrived, and for the last half hour they had been slowly cruising the coast back and forth between the mainland and some small offshore islands. At first Marissa had watched the shoreline with everyone else, amazed that she was looking at Communist Chinese territory. But after a time she’d retreated below to lie down for a while. By then, she was more exhausted than seasick.

“Come on!” Tristan called out. “I know you’ve had a bad time of it, but this is what we’ve come for.”

Marissa struggled to her feet. She was dizzy for an instant. “Do you have any of our water?” she asked.

“Sure, luv,” Tristan said. He handed her the bottle he had tucked into his back pocket.

When she’d finished drinking, she gave Tristan the bottle and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she took his arm. Together they walked out onto the foredeck. The boat was completely dark. Not a single light was lit.

The captain had started the diesels, but he had them at such a slow throttle, the only way Marissa could tell they were running was by feeling their vibration through her feet. She couldn’t hear them except when the water momentarily covered their exhaust, resulting in a muted, popping sound.

Squinting her eyes, Marissa could just make out the shoreline through the mist. She could see the dim silhouette of the treetops against the sky.

It was apparent that Captain Fa-Huang was tense. So were his two crewmen. This was the most dangerous part of the whole exercise, not only because they might be discovered but also because of underwater shoals.

No one spoke. They were close enough to shore for Marissa to hear the sounds of swamp creatures. The only other sound was the lap of the waves against the side of the boat until she became aware of the whine of mosquitoes.

Suddenly, from the shadows of the trees came a distinct flash of light. It was repeated twice more in rapid succession. The captain immediately cut the engines, flashed his own light toward the trees, and gave a hand signal to his crew member in the bow. A moment later came the muted splash of an anchor being dropped into the water.

The captain and his deck mates conferred in hushed tones as the boat slowly swung around to point directly away from the shore. One of the men disappeared below briefly. When he reappeared he was wearing a bandolier and carrying an AK47 assault rifle. In the distance some exotic bird cried, casting an eerie spell over the scene.

“They are afraid of pirates,” Bentley whispered to Marissa and Tristan.

“There are still pirates?” Marissa whispered.

“There have always been pirates in the Pearl River,” Bentley whispered in return. “Always have been and always will be.”

About five tense minutes passed with only the drone of mosquitoes and the lap of waves disturbing the silence.