Jake Harrison’s car approached the entrance to the Seagirt Terminal, swerving to a stop beside a Baltimore Police Department cruiser with the trademark blue streak down the sides. The vehicle had been parked by the gatehouse, blocking the terminal exit, creating a long line of trucks waiting to leave the port. The two police officers were leaning against the sedan, while the driver of the lead truck stuck inside the port was leaning out his window, yelling obscenities at the officers; he had a schedule to meet.
Harrison and Kendall approached the two officers; one was in his early twenties, while the other, with a moderate potbelly, was their age. It was obvious Kendall had worked with the older man before, since they knew each other’s names.
“Good to see you again, Officer Kendall,” the man said, adding a grin.
“Stuff it, Max,” she replied. Her eyes looked him over. “Puttin’ on some weight there, aren’t ya? I bet the Mrs. ain’t too happy. Then again, she probably wouldn’t be happy if she knew half the crap you pulled when you were younger.”
The man’s smile disappeared from his face, then he cleared his throat.
“What’s the deal here? We were directed to block the port exits and that someone from your agency would explain things when you got here.”
Kendall provided the details, then asked Max to accompany them into the gatehouse.
There were three employees inside, only one of whom was busy: a guy manning the entrance window. The other two employees—a woman at the exit window and another man—sat idly in chairs. The man rose to greet the three officers, identifying himself as the on-duty customs agent.
After Kendall flashed her identification and explained the issue to the man, she handed him the sheet provided by the DDA, which listed Mixell’s shipment number.
“It’s a CONEX box,” she said.
The customs agent entered the number into the computer, but got no result.
“It hasn’t been shipped here, nor is it on any manifest scheduled for offload. I can check all East Coast ports if you’d like.”
Kendall nodded and the man changed the search parameters, then ran the shipment number again. “Nothing. Either this shipment number is bad or it’s off the books.”
“What if it’s off the books?”
“Then you’re outta luck.”
Kendall stepped closer to him. “If it’s off the books, who do we talk to?”
“You? Fat chance of that happening. Even if you figured out who the right guy was and had the cash, his lips would be tighter than a clam’s ass at high tide.”
“There must be a way.”
“Look, lady. If there was a way for folks like us to run this type of stuff to ground, we’d be doing it. These guys are pretty crafty, with key people in critical positions, and they ain’t gonna talk. I’m afraid that if this shipment is off the books, you’re not going to find it by poking around here. Of course, you could inspect every container at the port, which would take you about … ninety-five years.”
With her hands on her hips, Kendall studied the man, then turned to Harrison. “Any ideas?”
“Assume Mixell’s got the CONEX box by now. He’s not going to pull up to a hotel with it, which means he’ll be renting someplace where he can hide it or it’ll blend in.”
“Mixell could be headed anywhere in the country with it.”
“True, but we’ve got to start somewhere. He flew into Dulles, and D.C. has the highest concentration of likely targets in the country, so I’d focus on the District and its suburbs.”
Kendall considered his proposal, then nodded. “Let’s get back to the NCTC and get the team looking at real estate properties.”
As they returned to Harrison’s car, she said, “Aren’t you supposed to have dinner with your wife tonight?”
“Yeah. And…?”
“Why don’t I get a ride back to McLean? You can spend some time with your wife and take her to dinner, then check out the Baltimore stripper lead when the club opens tonight. Besides, I’m sure you’ll enjoy running down that lead a lot more than I would.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Try to stay out of trouble.” She offered a grin, then turned to Max.
“Can you give me a ride to McLean? I’ll call Jason and let him know he can release the units blocking the port, so it looks like you’re available.”
“Not a problem,” Max replied.