domestic and international flights many times before and knew how to fill out the paperwork, so there was not a substantial delay in retrieving his gun case. Soon they were moving through the automatic doors of the passenger terminal, stepping out into the cool autumn air. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number. “Yeah, this is Kealey. We’re at the entrance for United. Okay, we’ll be waiting.”
“When was the last time you fired one of these?” he asked Naomi after turning off the phone. He tapped the small metal case with his left hand.
“I have no idea. It’s been a long time, though.”
“I’ll ask North to get you something.”
She was about to decline the offer, but then she remembered General Hale’s parting words: Whatever happens, don’t let March get his hands on you. Believe me, that’s the last thing you want. The memory sent another cold shiver running through her body.
It wasn’t long before a large black Suburban with government tags pulled up to the curb and the driver jumped out. “Hey, Adam North, DEA.”
“Ryan Kealey, and this is Naomi Kharmai. Good to meet you.”
North didn’t look like any law-enforcement agent Naomi had ever seen. He was huge; she guessed that he was well over 6' 4' and probably topped the scales at 270 pounds. He wore a black-leather jacket over a plain gray T-shirt and threadbare jeans. Her eyes moved down and noticed that his shoes were dirty Nike cross-trainers, scuffed and worn with age. The DEA agent caught her disapproval and grinned through a thick, unkempt beard.
“Don’t look so disappointed,” he said. “I’ve been trying to put these assholes away for three months, and it’s a little hard to blend in with a suit and tie.”
Ryan laughed as he tossed his little grip and Naomi’s huge suitcase into the back of the truck. He sat in the front with North while Kharmai climbed into the rear seat.
“So,” North said as he pulled away from the curb and into traffic, “where to begin?”
“First off, I want your opinion. What was it between Shakib and this Elgin guy? Was he moving in the explosives?”
“No, I don’t think so,” was the unexpected response. “Elgin’s responsibilities all lie on this side of the ocean, and I highly doubt he has any real connections to speak of. Part of his job is to check the bill of lading against the actual containers on the ship. I think what happened is that he came across something he wasn’t supposed to see, and he tried to make that work to his advantage. I would have to say he was successful, seeing as how he’s still alive.”
“Did you talk to the port authorities?” Naomi asked.
“I did, but only to get a grip on the loading and unloading procedures. If Elgin was trying to extort money from Shakib, then the people running the terminal aren’t going to have any knowledge of that anyway. Besides, I wanted to keep this information close to the vest. If Elgin gets word that people are asking questions, he’ll find a way to disappear. He’s not very bright, but he’s smart enough to know when to cut and run.”
“Tell me about Elgin’s job,” Ryan said. “What are his responsibilities? If he found something, how could that have happened?”
“Okay, when a ship comes into port, it’s issued a job number, a booking number, and the port of discharge. Elgin is responsible for assigning the job number, which in turn places the ship in a pre-assembly area. Basically, that determines when the cargo will be unloaded. Then a dock receipt is issued against the cargo, and responsibility of the load is transferred from the ship’s captain to the marine terminal.
“While the ship is waiting to be unloaded, the bill of lading is checked against the actual cargo. That’s our guy’s primary job, to supervise the walkthrough of the cargo hold. Right now, there are still no effective measures in place to check each container. It’s a huge problem for U.S. Customs because there is no way to verify the contents. Closed containers, which is basically every container aboard, are listed as S.T.C. That stands for ‘Said To Contain.’ The entire shipping industry is essentially run on the honor system. I mean, some of these ships can carry 7,000 twenty-foot containers. The amount of manpower that would be needed to check each one is completely unfeasible. It just can’t be done.”
“Then how would he run across illegal cargo?” Ryan asked.
Naomi spoke up from the rear seat. “If the container was damaged, then they would have the authority to open it and examine the contents, right?”
“Exactly.” North looked back at her with a surprised expression. He was genuinely impressed. “It took me forever to figure that out, but you’re right; that is the only way it could have happened. Indirectly, it was a huge break for us.”
“So from there, it was just a matter of locating the receiving party, which in this case was Michael Shakib. Well, this is just great,” Ryan said. A look of disgust came across his face. “This guy doesn’t have anything to tell us. All he did was blackmail Shakib.”
“That’s not entirely accurate,” North said. “Elgin can give you the ship’s point of origin, as well as the person or company that consigned the container in the first place. I would say he has a lot to tell us.”
“Well, let’s find out. What do you call this place?”
“It’s called The Waterfront. I guess the owner doesn’t have a lot of imagination.” He turned to Ryan with a look of incredulity on his face. “You’re not thinking of going in now, are you?”
“Why not?”
“Well, the SAC at the Norfolk office is expecting you, first of all, and the deputy administrator came down from Washington to help supervise this little powwow. If you don’t show up, that’s going to be a problem. Second, I think we ought to decide how to deal with Elgin. I mean, he’s not going to just hand over this information. He probably made a lot of money dealing with Shakib, so he won’t be very forthcoming.”
Kealey frowned. “Listen, I’ve heard about Elgin, and I can’t say that I’m very impressed. I’m under orders to move quickly on this, orders that came down from the president. I’m pretty sure that supercedes the authority of the deputy administrator for DEA. The only problem I see is that you can’t be involved in this if you’re part of an ongoing investigation.”
“Actually, that’s not going to be an issue.” A huge grin spread across North’s face. “My boss got a personal call from the national security advisor. All domestic operations take a backseat to your little mission. She even threw out your name. I guess you must carry a fair amount of pull.”
Ryan didn’t answer. He opened the metal case to reveal the components of his personal firearm, a Beretta 92FS. It was broken down into four pieces: the receiver, slide assembly, bolt group, and recoil spring. His hands moved in a blur as the weapon came together, the magazine checked and inserted, and a round chambered. The safety was on as he placed the pistol at his side and slid the metal case under the seat.
“That looks like military issue,” North said. “Got some years on it, too.”
“It’s served me well,” was the response. Ryan wasn’t giving anything away.
Adam North smiled at that as he took the next exit leading down to the docks. He glanced back at Naomi. “Are you coming in?”
“Well, I wouldn’t be very helpful sitting here, would I?”
“I’m just saying…” The DEA agent flushed slightly as he turned to look at her again. “This is not exactly a friendly place, and what you’re wearing isn’t going to make this any easier.”
Naomi followed his gaze to the white skirt riding high on her thighs. She tugged it down self-consciously as Ryan choked back laughter.
“Then we’d better stop so I can change,” she said, struggling to keep the anger out of her voice.
North pulled the Suburban into a gas station. Naomi jumped out and opened her suitcase at the rear of the vehicle, pulling out several items before storming off toward the ladies’ room.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ryan said as they both laughed. “She doesn’t like me either.”
“Pretty cute, though,” North said. Kealey was surprised; Kharmai didn’t seem like the bigger man’s type. “British?”
Ryan shot him a look. “That obvious, huh?”
“Well, you know.” North looked embarrassed. “I don’t deal with that a lot. Uh, why isn’t she working with… What do you call them? You know, the guys on her side of the water…?”
“MI-6, you mean? I don’t know. It’s their loss, I suppose.” It was a good question, one that he hadn’t thought to ask her, but Ryan wanted to get back on track. “Anyway, tell me about this place. What kind of layout are we
