Chapter 63

 

 

Pen and Mary rode the elevator in silence, until Mary broke the quiet with a question. “How did you feel about that meeting?”

Pen made a face. “Worried. The minute the agents began talking about warrants and bringing in other agencies … I must admit, I have my doubts they’ll be organized in time.”

“Me too.”

The doors slid open and the women walked the length of the corridor to their room.

“Pen, I can’t just sit here and stare out over the harbor and hope some government types get there in time to stop Foster and Melissa from getting away with their crimes.”

“To spirit away all that cash.”

“Well, exactly! It’s a crime that they made such false claims and roped donors into their scheme, but what really chills me is that they are simply going to sail off into the sunset and consider themselves the winners in their evil game.”

“We’ll never be able to stop the ship from sailing … will we?”

“Not if we don’t try.” Mary faced the harbor, only a few blocks from their hotel. “I say we go for it.”

Pen’s face lit up. “We’ll need a plan,” she said, enthusiasm growing in her voice.

Mary turned and picked up her bag, tossing it on one of the beds. “We could be the federal agents, ordering a search. Let me see if I brought anything vaguely resembling a business suit.”

Pen switched her favored pastel lavender blouse for a dark blue one, and Mary came up with dark slacks and a white shirt to go with her black blazer.

“We have nothing resembling official ID,” Mary said. “I could call Amber. Maybe she could email me a design and we print it out at the business center downstairs.”

Pen stopped in mid stride. “Wait. Impersonating federal agents could get us into even more trouble than our suspects are already in.”

Mary had one arm in her blazer’s sleeve. “Oh gosh, you’re right. So …?”

“I’m not saying we cannot give them the impression we are here on official business,” Pen said with a grin.

“I like it.” Mary slipped into her jacket and picked up her phone. “Let me get the address of the company where the Fordyces reserved their container.”

As they rode the elevator down and had the valet bring their rental, she programmed the address into her phone’s GPS. “Thank goodness for technology. The whole dock area is a maze of buildings and I would never find it otherwise.”

As it turned out, the offices of Seafarer Shipping were closing. A secretary walked out, locked the front door, and got into her car as Pen and Mary drove up. They waved her down and asked about a couple who were supposed to be shipping out a container tonight.

“Oh, it’ll happen,” the woman said. “Clint’s back there and the whole crew. They move cargo all night. But it’s the end of my work day, and I’m in a bit of a hurry …”

They thanked her and waited until she drove away. The chain link gate beside the building was wide enough for an 18-wheeler to pass through, but it only stood open about a foot. Mary and Pen edged through and went in search of this Clint.

An oversized forklift rounded the corner of the building, a metal cargo container on its forks, the driver leaning sideways to peer around it. “Hey, you can’t be back here,” he called out. “Customer service is closed for the day.”

Mary approached the slow-moving machine. Squaring her shoulders and flashing a small leather folder which actually contained her business cards, she performed her best imitation of someone official. “We’re looking for Clint.”

The driver tilted his head toward the loading dock at the back of the building, where a man with a clipboard seemed to be giving orders to four burly guys. The women walked toward them; Mary flashed the card holder again from a distance where details couldn’t be seen. Clipboard-guy turned out to be Clint.

“Yeah?” he said, eyeing them with a squint.

“We’re investigating a couple named Fordyce, and we understand they have booked a container to be shipped aboard the Corinthian?”

Clint shrugged.

“Can you verify that for us?” Mary asked, giving a pointed stare toward the clipboard in his hand.

He gave the top page on the stack a quick glance. “They’re on the list.”

“Is their container already loaded?”

“Don’t think so. Look, lady, I’m busy here. Without a warrant, you’re not getting me to call everything to a halt and start checking these big old metal boxes. We got a dozen ships sailing in the next couple days.”

“You can’t simply verify whether the Fordyces and their container have been here and whether that container is already aboard the Corinthian?” Pen asked.

“Show me your warrant.” He started to turn away.

“Look, mister, at this point we’re just asking questions informally. You want a warrant, we’ll get the whole detail down here and take this place apart.” Mary prayed the real feds would be along shortly.

“I want a warrant.” Clint turned and shouted to one of the men who was wheeling a pallet on a portable lift.

Pen and Mary exchanged a glance and walked away.

“Nice man,” Pen said as they neared their car.

“There’s more than one way to catch a thief. So, if we can’t take a look in the container, we can at least keep an eye out for the Fordyces. That hippie bus of theirs won’t be exactly invisible in a setting like this.”

Pen looked at her watch. It was earlier than she’d imagined. “I’m beginning to wish I’d taken a short nap when we arrived at the hotel.”

Mary laughed. “We were both so keyed up about meeting with the US Attorney’s people, you couldn’t have slept if you had tried.”

The evening air down by the water was becoming chilly. Mary started the car and turned on the heater.

“According to Amber’s estimate, the Fordyces probably won’t arrive for another hour or two. Perhaps I shall grab a quick nap here and now,” Pen said, stretching and tilting her seat back a bit farther.

Mary watched for fifteen minutes and noticed Pen never really settled to sleep. “I don’t know if I should bring this up, but I’m hungry. We haven’t eaten in more than twelve hours. If it’s true we have at least another hour to wait, how about if we go grab something?”

“Agreed. And it should include coffee. I feel the need.”

Three blocks away they found a diner that fairly well fit the description ‘greasy spoon’ but the sandwiches were hearty and the coffee strong. They ate quickly, wrapped half of each sandwich for later, and ordered coffees to go.