"It isn't industrial equipment," I said, my fingers gripping the zipper of my coat beneath my collar. "Industrial machinery doesn't clear an analog weigh-bridge four tons light unless the crates inside are completely empty. You aren't smuggling contraband into the country, Victor. You're doing something much simpler."
Victor's eyes narrowed slightly, the smooth confidence on his face freezing into a hard, defensive mask.
"You insured those four containers for three million dollars apiece through Atlantic Merchant Bank's maritime syndication," I continued, the cold air burning down into my lungs. "You logged them as imported precision tooling to collect the state logistics modernization credit, but you never bought the tools. You bought scrap ballast from the south yard, staged empty steel boxes to clear the port cameras, and you were going to let the Keppel Star take them forty miles out into the trench where an 'accidental' container loss would trigger an immediate total-loss payout from the underwriters."
Rourke shifted his weight behind Victor, his eyes dropping to the wet concrete. Even the superintendent didn't want to hear the words said out loud on a recorded apron.
"You have no proof of that theory," Victor said, but his voice had dropped into a tight, venomous hiss. "All you have is an insubordinate employee carrying unverified internal notes onto an active loading ramp."
"She has the yellow sheet," a new voice said from the iron grating above our heads.
Henry Lin stood at the top of the gangway platform, his hands resting on the yellow safety chain. Behind him, two ship’s deck officers in heavy orange flotation vests stepped onto the steel stairs, their heavy flashlights casting wide, blinding circles of white light down across the dock apron, illuminating Victor’s car, Rourke’s clipboard, and the sealed plastic sleeve protruding from my jacket.
"Mr. Vance," Henry called down, his voice carrying clearly over the diesel roar of the ship's stack. "The maritime commissioner’s duty inspector just arrived at the harbor master's office. He received an automated report of a weight discrepancy filed from my bridge terminal five minutes ago. If that yellow carbon matches the slip Naomi Miller is holding, your vessel clearance is canceled, and the customs police are already rolling through Gate One."
Victor did not look up at the gangway. His eyes stayed locked on mine, dark and murderous under the glare of the sodium lights, his right hand slowly curling into a tight, leather-clad fist.
"You're done, Naomi," he whispered. "You'll never work an invoice in this state again."
"I won't need to work for you," I said, pulling the sealed folder from my jacket and stepping past him onto the first steel tread of the gangway stairs. "Because by tomorrow morning, Victor, you won't even have an office to fire me from."
CHAPTER 3: The Ramp They Could Not Clear
The metal treads of the gangway vibrated under my boots as Henry Lin took the plastic sleeve from my wet hands. He did not pull the yellow carbon out into the freezing sleet; he simply shielded it with his wool overcoat and clicked a heavy brass penlight against the clear film. Beside him, the two ship’s deck officers kept their searchlights pinned directly on the asphalt apron below. The glare was blinding white, catching the frozen rain in midair and illuminating Victor Vance where he stood by his open sedan door, the gray wool of his collar soaked dark and his hands jammed deep into his overcoat pockets.
Behind Victor, two blue-and-white harbor police cruisers swept through the outer barrier of Gate One, their low-profile lightbars flashing crimson and blue against the corrugated walls of the cargo sheds. The hydraulic gate arms had not been raised for them; the lead cruiser had bumped the fiberglass barrier aside, snapping the hinge with a loud, hollow pop that echoed across the wet tarmac.
"Mr. Vance," Henry Lin called down over the iron railing, his voice flat and perfectly audible over the low rumble of the harbor auxiliary generators. "The harbor master’s duty officer is stepping out of the second vehicle. We will examine the bill of lading, the weigh-bridge ticket, and the hull manifests together at the staging desk."