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“Drop it all off when you’re done.”
I hang up without bothering to so much as grunt a reply.
Busy times on the dock tonight. But that’s okay, I want to watch their operation. I really don’t give a fuck what’s being loaded, but the foreman has an iPad. That’s something to file away for later, another way into the depths of Hanlon Shipping.
Behind the foreman, I can see people walking around a lit-up office.
I need to work out a time to search that area, too, when nobody is around. The shipping schedule could help me figure that out.
My eyes return to the foreman. He logs shit on the iPad, but he also has a notebook crammed into his back pocket. Every now and then he pulls it out and marks something down.
It might be important. It might not.
But it’s worth keeping in mind.
I watch a little longer, but it’s all rinse and repeat. I can set someone up to really do a detailed watch and get me a schedule of crate movement. I’m thinking early morning might be the best time, or maybe even late afternoon to fit in a search of the offices.
I pack up the binoculars and drive to Alphabet City and Orchid Lane.
As I pull into a parking spot, I call Orion.
“This better be fucking good or I’m going to kill you.”
“Good morning to you, too,” I say. A soft, feminine murmur flows in the background.
“Okay, asswipe, it’s the fucking middle of the night. What do you want?”
“Encryption.”
“Not my thing,” he mutters.
“But you know people, if I can get you some info?—”
“Outside of the Knights?” he asks quietly. A train rattles as he moves from his bedroom to the living room. The man really needs to fucking move off the goddamn train line.
“For now. Encryption and code cracking isn’t my forte, but I recognize certain things that may mean something. I just want to poke around first, if I can.”
Jones and Smith, I trust them. I trust them all as much as I trust anyone, but when I get my hands on some of the files and invoices Scarlett’s talking about, I’d like to see if I’m on the right track.
Poking around’s one thing, but delicate while acting heavy-handed is the name of this game. Tread lightly, outsource carefully curated snippets to see where I am, and then move forward. I’ll treat it like a real grift.
Jones might want to run with whatever’s uncovered, with whatever he’s looking for.
I really don’t know.
But I need to be careful. I have a lot riding on this, and I don’t want to blow it all open prematurely.
“Yeah, I can do that. Can I go now?”
I roll my eyes, mutter goodbye, and get out of the car. I walk toward the back entrance closest to the office. Smith is waiting. Reclined in my desk chair.
“Here.” I hand him the wallet and the photo.
Even he winces. “Fuck.”
“It’s pretty bad. I just don’t know if that security guard found it or took it.”
“If you’d have kept him alive, we?—”
