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Luck； The Bayou Kid
〃Who's Romberg？〃 asked Pitt。
Giordino stepped out of the doorway and without ment pointed inside at a bloodhound lying on his back with his paws in the air； big floppy ears splayed to the sides； his tongue half hanging out。
〃Is he dead？〃
〃He might as well be； for all the enthusiasm he's shown at my presence；〃 said Giordino。 〃He hasn't twitched or blinked an eye since I came on board。〃
〃What is so unusual about the engine？〃
〃You've got to see this。〃 Giordino led the way through the one room that posed the living room； bedroom； and kitchen of the shantyboat to a trapdoor in the floor。 He lifted the cover and pointed below into the pact engine room in the hull。 〃A Ford 427…cubic…inch V…8 with dual quad carburetors。 An oldie but goodie。 It's got to have at least four hundred horsepower。〃
〃Probably closer to four hundred twenty…five；〃 said Pitt； admiring the powerful engine that appeared in immaculate condition。 〃How the old man must have laughed after I asked him if the engine could move the boat against the river current。〃
〃As big as this floating shack is；〃 said Giordino； 〃I'd guess we could make close to twenty…five miles an hour if we had to。〃
〃Keep it slow and easy。 We don't want to look like we're in a hurry。〃
〃How far is the canal？〃
〃I haven't measured the distance； but it looks to be close to sixty miles。〃
〃We'll want to get there sometime before sunset；〃 said Giordino； mentally calculating a leisurely cruising speed。
〃I'll cast off。 You take the helm and head her into the channel while I store the groceries。〃
Giordino needed no coaxing。 He couldn't wait to start the big 427 Ford and feel its torque。 He hit the starter and it rumbled into life with a mean and nasty growl。 He let it idle for a few moments； savoring the sound。 It did not turn over smoothly； but loped。 It was too good to believe； Giordino thought to himself。 The engine was not stock。 It was modified and tuned for racing。 〃My God；〃 he murmured to himself。 〃It's far more powerful than we thought。〃
Knowing without a shade of doubt Giordino would soon get carried away and push the engine throttle to its stop； Pitt secured the groceries so they wouldn't end up on the deck。 Then he stepped over the sleeping Romberg； went out onto the forward veranda and relaxed in a lawn chair； but not before bracing his feet against the bulwark and wrapping his arm around the railing。
Giordino waited until the Atchafalaya River was clear and there were no boats in sight。 He laid out the nautical chart of the river provided by Doug Wheeler and studied the river depths ahead。 Then； true to form； he increased the speed of the old shantyboat until the flat nose bow was a good foot above the water and the stern was burrowed； cutting a wide groove across the surface。 To see such an ungainly craft barreling upriver at better than thirty…five miles an hour was an extraordinary and incongruous sight。 On the forward veranda； the wind resistance and the raised angle of the bow pressed Pitt back against the wall of the house with such force he felt constrained and barely able to move。
Finally； after about two miles of spreading a three…foot…high wash behind the shantyboat that swept into the marshlands and splayed the unbroken green mat of water hyacinth that spread from the river channel； Giordino observed two small fishing boats approaching on their way to Morgan City。 He eased back the throttle and brought the shantyboat to a crawl。 The water hyacinth is a pretty plant but is a disaster to inland waterways； growing at a prolific rate and choking off streams and bayous。 They are kept afloat by their stems full of air bladders。 The hyacinth sprouts beautiful lavender…pink flowers； but unlike most other flowering plants； it smells like a fertilizer factory when pulled from the water。
Feeling as if he had survived a roller…coaster ride； Pitt returned inside； retrieved the topographical map and began studying the twists and turns in the river as well as familiarizing himself with the network of swampy bayous and lakes between Wheeler's Landing and the canal dug by Qin Shang Maritime。 He traced and pared the landmarks and river bends with those on the map。 It was refreshing to sit fortably in the shade of the veranda overhang and experience the pleasant sensation of traveling smoothly over timeless waters that only a boat can provide。 Riverbank vegetation varied from mile to mile。 Thick forests with willows； cotton…woods and cypresses interspersed with berry bushes； and wild grapevines slowly gave way to a moist； primeval swamp； a prairie of soaring reeds swaying under a light breeze that swept off to the horizon。 A lone cypress rose majestically out of the grass like a frigate on the sea。 He saw herons walking on their long； sticklike legs along the fringe of water； their necks bent into an S shape as they pecked for food in the mud。
To a hunter kayaking or paddling a canoe through the swamps of southern Louisiana； the trick was to find a firm piece of ground on which to pitch a tent for the night。 Duckweed and hyacinth floated on much of the open water。 Forests grew from the brackish muck； not dry land。 It was hard for Pitt to imagine that all the water he could see came from as far away as Ontario and Manitoba； North Dakota and Minnesota； and every state below。 Only behind the safety of thousands of miles of levee systems did people cultivate farms and build cities and towns。 It was a landscape unlike any he'd ever seen。
The day was pleasantly cool； with just enough breeze to make small waves across the surface of the water。 The hours rolled by as if time was as limitless as space。 As idyllic as the lazy cruise up the river seemed； they were on serious business that could easily be the cause of their deaths。 There could be no mistakes； no errors in planning their reconnaissance of the mysterious canal。
A few minutes after noon； Pitt took a salami sandwich and a bottle of beer up to Giordino in the little wheelhouse on the roof。 Pitt offered to take the helm； but Giordino wouldn't hear of it。 He was having too much fun； so Pitt returned to his chair on the veranda。
Although time seemed to have no meaning； Pitt's hours were neither idle nor aimless。 He spent the time laying out their diving equipment。 He unpacked and adjusted the controls on the little AUV he had used at Orion Lake。 Lastly； he removed the night…vision goggles from their case and laid them on the cushions of an old； worn sofa。
Shortly after five o'clock in the afternoon； Pitt stepped inside the house and stood at the base of the ladder leading up to the pilothouse on the roof。 〃One half mile before we reach the mouth of the canal；〃 he alerted Giordino。 〃Move on past another half mile to the next bayou。 Then swing a turn to starboard。〃
〃What's it called？〃 asked Giordino。
〃Hooker's Bayou； but don't bother looking for a sign at the intersection。 Take it for about six miles to where the map shows an abandoned dock by a capped oil well。 We'll tie up there and have dinner while we wait for darkness。〃
Giordino eased the shantyboat around a long string of barges pushed downriver by a large towboat。 The captain of the tow…boat gave a blast from his air horn as they passed； no doubt thinking the owner was on board the shantyboat。 Pitt had returned to his chair on the bow and waved。 Using a pair of binoculars； he scrutinized the canal as they crossed its mouth。 It was carved in a perfectly straight course nearly a quarter of a mile wide that seemed to roll like a green carpet over the horizon。 A rusty chain stretched across the mouth and was attached to concrete pilings。 Large； billboard…sized signs were raised with red letters against a background of white that said；
NO TRESPASSING。 ANYONE CAUGHT ON QIN SHANG MARITIME PROPERTY WILL BE PROSECUTED。
Small wonder the local residents hate Qin Shang； thought Pitt。 He seriously doubted that the local sheriff would go out of his way to arrest friends and neighbors for hunting or fishing on foreign…owned property。
Forty minutes later； Giordino eased back on the throttle and swung the bulky shantyboat from the narrow channel of Hooker's Bayou and crept to a halt toward the remains of a concrete pier； nudging the flat； raked bow onto a low bank。 Stenciled lettering on the concrete pilings read； CHEROKEE OIL PANY； BATON ROUGE； LOUISIANA。 The boat had no anchor； so they took up long poles that were tied to the catwalks for the purpose and rammed them into the mud。 Then they tied the mooring lines from the boat to the poles。 Lastly； a gangplank was run out onto firm ground。
〃I have a contact on radar moving across the marsh from the southeast；〃 Giordino calmly reported。
〃They're ing from the direction of the Mystic Canal。〃
〃They're ing fast；〃 Giordino said in a deliberate tone。
〃Shang's security didn't waste any time tagging us。〃 Pitt went inside and returned with a large square net with vertical supports he'd found on the aft veranda。 〃Drag Romberg out here and get yourself a bottle of beer。〃
Giordino looked at the net。 〃You think you're going to catch crab for dinner？〃
〃No；〃 Pitt answered； catching a glint fr