Chapter 244

Chapter 244

"Gideon said the key to that small room was only with Raymond himself, but he didn't say whether there were any other ways in."

"Do you know where another entrance might be?"

"No, but we can look."

Vivian walked over to him and looked out the window at the narrow street lit by streetlamps. "I'm coming with you."

The wind in the port district was much stronger at night than during the day.

Arthur parked two blocks away from the row of warehouses, and they took a side alley around to the back. The warehouses had gray outer walls, most of the windows bricked or sealed shut.

Arthur walked ahead and stopped at the back wall, crouching down to shine his flashlight along the mortar joints where the wall met the ground. The gaps were narrow, but the cement had flaked away in places.

He pulled a small tool roll from his inside pocket and worked a thin metal probe along one of the joints. A brick shifted. He pulled it out and set it aside, then pulled out a second, opening a gap about thirty centimeters wide.

He turned sideways and squeezed through. Vivian followed, and as she pushed through the gap her jacket snagged on the edge of a brick. She reached back, pulled it free, and ducked inside.

It was darker inside than out. The rough shapes of a few rows of shelving were just visible in the black. Arthur left his flashlight off and stood still, letting his eyes adjust.

Once he could make out the outlines of the boxes on the nearest shelf, he switched on the flashlight and swept it forward.

The warehouse was smaller than he'd expected. Fewer than two rows of shelving, most of it empty.

Over in one corner there were a few things covered with a tarpaulin, shapes irregular underneath. They walked over and lifted one edge. Below it were several wooden crates with latch closures but no locks.

Arthur opened the first one. Inside, separated by foam padding, were several metal tubes — the same material and machining as the components Vivian had described.

He opened the second. It held smaller metal parts, irregular in shape. The third was empty, a thin layer of dust settled on the bottom.

Arthur took a few photos with his phone, then closed the crates and replaced the tarp, checking everything was back in place before he straightened up.

He switched off the flashlight and stood for a moment, listening. When he was sure no one was nearby, they retraced their steps and slipped back out through the gap.

Neither of them spoke on the way back to the car. Arthur started the engine and pulled away from the port district while Vivian sat in the passenger seat looking out the window. The streetlights swept past in intervals, light and shadow crossing her face in turns. She said, "What's in those crates is connected to the items on your inventory list."

"Yes."

"Raymond keeps the weapons components and the artifacts in separate storage, but ships them together. He's not just moving artifacts — he's using them as cover to move other things out."

Arthur stopped at a red light and glanced over at her. "If that shipment really leaves in three days, everything goes with it."

"So we have to stop it before it clears port."

The light turned green. Arthur released the brake and drove through the intersection.

Back at the apartment, Vivian took the European prehistoric jade axe out of her bag and set it on the table, studying it for a long time. The desk lamp fell across its surface, and the patina showed a distribution that was too even — not the kind that seeps in randomly, but something that had spread in a regular pattern, following the grain.

She pressed a magnifying glass to the surface and traced along the edge of one patch of patina, confirming that the boundary was consistent, then set the glass down.

She looked up at Arthur. "It was wrapped the same way as the other pieces, but it was placed right in the center of the crate. If someone had just mixed it in, it wouldn't be sitting there. Whoever put it there knew this shipment would go through an appraiser's hands — and knew the appraiser would pick it out."

Arthur stood at the table, looking down at the shape of the jade axe under the lamp. After a moment: "Has the export date for that shipment been confirmed?"

"Raymond's people haven't told me when the next inspection is, but there's definitely a fixed departure date."

"I'll go see Gideon tomorrow."

The next morning Arthur came back with a manila envelope, thinner than the last one — just two sheets inside. He slid them onto the table. Vivian leaned over and saw a few printed lines and a handwritten port code.

"Three days from now, two forty in the morning, Port Zone C. Three containers, labeled industrial equipment, routed to Southeast Asia with a stop at a transit port along the way." Arthur said.

Vivian read through both sheets, then looked up. "Can Mr. Scott's people get involved?"

"He already knows. But he can't run a large operation inside Country M — limited personnel, limited firepower. Raymond's people are very likely armed."

"You told him what we found tonight?"

"Everything. The location of the components, the photos."

Arthur turned his phone screen toward her. It showed a sent confirmation on an email. "He replied that he can position a small team around the perimeter of the port to back us up, but they can't directly intercept the cargo. They'll handle the cleanup and transfer after we make the stop. If there's a direct confrontation on site, they can provide covering fire from outside — but they can't move into the dock area itself."

Vivian looked at the email, fingertips resting on the edge of the table. "How many people does Raymond have?"

"Gideon said at least eight to ten when the cargo gets picked up, including a few he brought over from the weapons side."

"So it's just the two of us."

Arthur put his phone away. "Mr. Scott's people will move into position around the perimeter tonight. We go early to link up with them, and before that we scope out the dock layout."

He couldn't say it out loud — all those years building something in Country M, he'd had people too. Just not anymore.

That evening they arrived at the port district early.

The wind was strong, driving straight in off the water, making the metal walls of the containers hum. Vivian had on a dark, thin jacket, zipped all the way up, collar turned.

Arthur walked ahead of her. They moved through a freight passage along the outer edge of Zone C, coils of old rope and tires stacked on both sides, the air thick with diesel and salt water mixed together.

They followed the passage to the edge of a container yard and spotted two dark SUVs sitting without lights a short distance away. Arthur walked up and knocked on the side of one. The window came down a crack, and the person inside took one look at him and pushed the door open.