The Container
The flashing lights from the police cars made the cold, clinging fog seem a carnival scene around the large, blue container. The container was built of metal. Bright yellow characters dotted it's outside, mostly Chinese. The blue was the same light blue as NATO helmets. The doors stood wide open, with only a few people moving near it's opening in the bright glow of halogen lamps that had been set up to provide light. Police guarded a yellow tape area, keeping people out. The smells of the sea and docks pervaded everything with the odors of rot, fish, and salt water. The morning sun tried to penetrate the fog, but seemed weak in the cold morning air.
Gordon "Gordie" Huffman got out of his 2000 black Ford Explorer and walked toward the police line. Gordie is the Special Agent in Charge for the Joint Terrorism Task Force. An FBI Agent, he was the leading investigator for his little pack of discrepant task force members. Gordie had gotten a call from Juana Espinoza, his team member from the San Francisco police department in the dark hours before dawn. Normally he called her, not the other way around. Juana told him that she had gotten a call from Mark England, who worked for the Port Authority. Politics. Everyone still fighting for jurisdiction. They were a team, but only on the surface at this point. Gordie sighed deeply, put on his rubber gloves and walked toward the container, waving his badge and being aided under the tape by the flat foots keeping onlookers back.
Gordie stopped outside the container and nodded to Juana Espinoza, her black hair tied up in a net so she didn't contaminate the scene as she stood up. Juana was a handsome Hispanic woman with aristocratic features. Tall for a woman at five feet eleven inches, her dark eyes glittered with humor. Her blue SFPD windbreaker covered her body, but it wasn't hard to see she was fit and strong. Juana and Gordie liked each other a lot, in a friendly, competitive way.
"Gordie this container is a shit show. We got heroine. The Port authority popped it on a tip from an anonymous source." Juana said, her English tinted with a Latino burr. Gordie grimaced and squatted down to look through the box in front of Juana. Coffee grounds and rotted fruit were laid over the brown, plastic wrapped heroin cakes. In the middle of all that was a squat, heavy, glistening white crystalline cat. The eyes were carved jade set in a stern feline face. Gordie picked it up carefully, looking it over. The cat seemed to glow softly from within, then faded. Gordie wrapped it in plastic wrap loose from the drugs and eased it back into the box. With a sigh he stood up, looking over Juana's shoulder to other members of the task force opening more boxes.
Mark England was a middle aged white guy, brown beard and mustache, light brown eyes, and muscled build. Mark worked for the Port Authority first, but was also a member of the Task Force. He and Gina Ling were opening a crate with long crowbars. Gina was a small, slender oriental woman, though whipcord strong. Her lively eyes and face worked in concentration she helped get the lid off the crate. When the nails were loose, Mark pulled it up and set it aside. "Boss!" Mark yelled, "You are going to want to see this."
Gordie stepped around Juana and into the container, threading his way around packing materials. Gordie stepped up to the crate. A familiar smell emanated from the inside of the crate, oil, metal, and packing peanuts wafted to Gordie on the breeze, other deeper, more effluent, primal smells were there also. Under the packing materials the dull black outline of guns was apparent. Lots of guns. Reaching inside the crate Gordie picked up a Chinese made machine gun. It was a QBZ-97, chambered for NATO rounds, black and flat colored. Gordie hefted it and checked it over. At least 6 crates just like this one. "That's just perfect." Gordie said with a sigh. He put the gun back in the crate gently. Mark had moved to some plastic blue barrels and ripped the lid off. He reached inside and pulled out metal boxes of ammunition.
"Mark, where did this thing come from?" Gordie asked.
Mark grimaced, took his hat off and scrubbed his head with the back of his arm. "The container was picked up in Indonesia. It is on a ship with containers that were supposed to be coming out of Taiwan. The company it's being shipped from is a shell company out of India. Money is going to the Caymans. The bill of lading marks this all potting soil." Mark said shaking his head.
"Well it's definitely not all potting soil. Has anyone else been notified about the oddness of this box?" Gordie asked, watching each of their faces. Mark looked at the ground, not saying a thing. Gina shook her head, no. Juana took off her gloves and looked Gordie in the eye.
"We don't know who tipped us off, or why." Juana stated.
Gordie reached over and swung the door to the container closed, exposing the two bodies hanging from the metal work, their guts riven from their bodies. There was some blood, but not enough for the damage on those bodies. Their clothes were ripped, and there were gaping holes in the chest cavity of the bodies. Their heads hung sideways at a weird angle. Whoever killed them did so with abandon and a lack of concern for finesse. "I think we can see why."
"But why us? Why did someone ring my number?" Mark questioned. "I get that they called me because I was port authority, but they didn't identify themselves. It wasn't even a Port authority number. Port authority guys swear they hadn't gotten to this container yet."
