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“Be advised, the rain has stopped, sun’s coming up.”
“Roger. We’re gonna need another thirty mikes, minimum.”
“Roger that. I’ll keep an eye out.”
Travers returned his concentration to the forty-foot shipping container. Two vertical locking rods, one on each door of the container, were secured with a handcuffing device, essentially a metal bar that went around both rods to keep either of the two doors from opening.
Hash slid the metal handcuff up the two bars until it was stopped by brackets on each side, and he braced it there. Travers took out a rubber hammer and a steel chisel from his pack, and then, as soon as his men below gave the all clear, he quickly hammered down on the two bolts holding one of the brackets, popping them off against the handcuff.
The bracket came free; the three small pieces of steel fell away but Travers caught them before they dropped all the way to the steel deck.
Now the only thing stopping them from opening the doors and inspecting the cargo was the bolt seal, a small steel and rubberized device with a number on it that matched the container number. Travers took a set of bolt cutters from Jamie and broke the seal.
Putting the pieces in a cargo pocket, he lifted the latch on the right side of the door and quietly opened the container.
They flashed a light inside and saw several palletized items, but they also saw that there was room to move around, mostly by climbing over the pallets since they only rose to half the height of the container.
Takahashi and Travers climbed inside, and then Victor Three closed the door behind them so that they would be free to turn on their headlamps.
Hash and Travers took off their radios, backpacks, chest rigs, utility belts, and guns so they could crawl around over the pallets, and they both activated headlamps so they could remain hands-free.
Travers moved his radio to his front pocket, put his headset back on, and hit his push-to-talk button. “Overwatch, we are inside the forty-foot.”
Hash put his radio back on, as well.
“Roger that,” Pace said. “Be advised, we’re at fifty minutes and I am seeing activity at the anchor. Looks like the ship might be coming into port sooner than we thought.”
“We’ll double-time it,” Travers said, and then he and Victor Two began inspecting the pallets.
Joe Takahashi led Travers over the pallets, but he stopped his advance and broadcast on the net to Travers, the rest of Juliet Victor, and Jim Pace. “I’ve got a hardshell plastic case about four feet square, writing on the side is in Hanzi.”
Travers said, “Can you read it?”
“Hanzi’s Chinese, boss. I’m Japanese. And anyway, I’m from Philly, so even my Japanese blows.”
“Right.” Travers climbed up onto the top of the case next to him, then looked at the lid. “I can read this one. ‘Greyhound V180.’ That mean anything to you, Overwatch?”
“Negative, but we’ll check.”
Takahashi said, “I’ve got another with the same over here. Both Hanzi and Roman alphabet. “ ‘Greyhound V180.’ Probably twelve other cases in the container about the same size.”
Travers said, “I’m going to pop one and take a peek. Don’t want to disturb the packaging, so this is going to take a bit.”
•••
Jim Pace acknowledged Juliet Victor, then squinted again into his spotting scope.
It was daylight now, the clouds had all but burned off, and he could see several people moving around the main and upper decks of the Estelle out in the harbor.
He was all but certain the vessel was about to begin steaming up to the docks for off-loading.
His satellite phone began buzzing on the table next to him. He snatched it up, not taking his eye out of the cup of the scope.
“Yeah?”
“Jim, it’s Anne.”
Anne was one of the CIA’s best forensic accountants, and she’d been working in proliferations back at Langley, seconded to his team to dig into Wan Chai Machine Technology, the company that had sent the container to Cuba.
