She nodded, and watched Dan take a swig of the whiskey. He grimaced, and then glared at the label.
‘Rough?’ Sarah asked.
‘Bloody awful,’ he grinned. ‘Which probably means it’ll work.’
The Singapore skyline shimmered in the early morning haze. Sarah turned up the air conditioning in the car, then glanced up and looked out the windscreen as Dan steered the car along the busy highway. She checked the map laid out open on her lap and pointed left.
‘Here,’ she said. ‘This is Keppel Harbour. The entrance to the docks should be about a mile down here on the left.’
Sarah studied the map. ‘Look out for a sign to Pasir Panjang. I spoke to a guy at the freight company before we left Brisbane – he said it would have probably been unloaded there.’
Dan slowed the car and made the turn. ‘Have you thought about how we’re going to get through the gates?’ he asked. ‘I’m presuming it’s going to be guarded.’
Sarah rummaged in her bag and held up an identity card.
‘Press identification. I’ll tell them I’m running a story on the shipping port for a travel magazine or something. Hopefully they won’t ask too many questions.’
Dan slowed as the entrance to the docks came into view.
‘There’s the sign for the terminal,’ said Sarah, pointing to her left.
A small, stocky man leaned out of a small cinderblock guard house, saw the car approaching and stepped out next to the horizontal red and white striped barrier blocking their way. He motioned to Dan to stop.
Dan wound the window down and slowed the car to a halt, leaned his elbow on the window frame and tried his best to look nonchalant.
‘Help you?’ asked the guard. Not friendly. Not helpful. Just doing the same job, day after day.
Sarah leaned over Dan and smiled up at the guard as she flashed her press identity card at him. ‘Hi! I’m from the UK. I’m writing an article about the shipping port for a magazine for cruise passengers. My editor should’ve phoned ahead.’
The guard inclined his head and grunted. Thought about it. ‘And him?’ he asked, pointing at Dan.
‘I’m the photographer,’ grinned Dan. ‘We should get some great shots this evening with that sunset.’
The guard nodded. ‘Wait here.’ He returned to the guard house. The barrier stayed down.
‘What’s he doing?’ whispered Sarah.
‘Probably looking for a record of when your ‘editor’ phoned.’
They could see the guard through the window of his concrete and corrugated iron roof hut. His head was down. The tops of pages could be seen as they flickered in and out of view as he went through a register. Eventually he glanced up. He looked out the window straight at Dan and Sarah as they sat in the car, hopeful expressions on their faces. Dan smiled and raised his hand at the guard.
‘What’s going on?’ said Sarah. ‘Is he going to let us in do you think?’
‘No idea,’ murmured Dan as the guard came back out of the guard house and began walking back towards the car.
He frowned, carrying a clipboard. ‘When did you say your editor called?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t,’ said Sarah, still smiling, ‘but I think it was last week some time. I really don’t know – I was too busy trying to book a last-minute flight.’
The guard straightened up and looked beyond the barrier to the docks ahead. Dan and Sarah followed his gaze. They were tantalisingly close.
The guard seemed to make a decision. Perhaps he didn’t want to be mentioned in the article as being an example of over-zealous bureaucrats; perhaps it was just the end of his shift. He bent down to Dan’s open window again and thrust the clipboard at him.
‘Okay. You both sign here.’
Dan took the register and wrote his name as illegibly as he could before passing it across to Sarah. He motioned to her to do the same. She took the hint, scrawled across the next space on the register and handed it back. Dan passed it through the window to the guard.
The ceremony complete, the guard took the clipboard and frowned momentarily at the two entries. He paused, thought about asking the two people to re-sign, then changed his mind. The shift change was in less than an hour and he really didn’t care – he didn’t get paid enough to make sure visitors’ calligraphy skills were above average.
‘Go through when I raise the barrier,’ he instructed and walked away.
Dan breathed out while he wound the car window up. Sarah could hardly contain her excitement.
‘We did it – we’re in!’ she exclaimed.
‘Yeah, well, calm down otherwise he’s going to wonder why on earth you’re so excited about your magazine assignment and we’ll end up getting pulled over.’ Dan watched as the barrier was raised and drove slowly through. No point in rushing.
Sarah bit her lip and held her breath until they were past the guard house and under the barrier, then began to punch the air. ‘Yes! Now let’s find that container!’
Dan steered the car carefully over the pock-marked bitumen. The sun was beginning to set and it was becoming difficult to see in the fading light. He found the unfamiliar switch for the headlights. The beam caught signs for various docks, pointing in different directions. He risked a glance to his right at a huge freighter being unloaded under floodlights. An enormous crane picked up each container as if it was a matchbox then set it on a flat-bed truck waiting patiently below. Dan slowed and turned his head to see a procession of trucks lined up along the length of the dock, all waiting their turn.
‘How big is this place?’ exclaimed Sarah.
‘It’s huge,’ said Dan. ‘Well over half the world’s shipping comes through here.’
Sarah pointed to a sign displayed on a post at a junction in the road. ‘There – follow that road.’
Dan drove slowly down a wide concrete path and pulled the car up behind a container. ‘Here goes,’ he said, and climbed out.
They walked slowly round the towering stacks of containers. Neither spoke – they were too over-awed by the sheer enormity of the port operations and the task they had set themselves.
‘It seemed so simple when we were talking about it in Brisbane,’ said Sarah. ‘I had no idea this place would be so big.’
‘I know. It just makes me more thankful the guy at the freighter company told you it was this terminal on the manifest.’ Dan looked around them, at the stacks of containers disappearing from view whichever way he looked. ‘We could’ve been here forever otherwise.’
‘Let’s have a look at that manifest again. I’m sure there was a note of an identifying stamp or something on it. Maybe that will help.’
Dan felt in his shirt pocket and pulled out the well-thumbed document. He unfolded it and stared helplessly at it. A noise behind him made him look around.
Two dock workers chattered away in Malay, laughing.
‘Stay here,’ Dan said to Sarah and turned to the two men.
‘Hey!’ he said, raising his hand and smiling. The two men glanced up at him a little sheepishly, their smoking break forgotten.
‘Sorry guys,’ said Dan. ‘Could you tell me which of these stacks might have got delivered since the New Year?’
The men eyed him suspiciously.
‘Why do you want to know?’ asked the shorter of the two, shading his eyes from the glare of the setting sun behind Dan.
Dan shrugged. Stayed relaxed. He nodded back at Sarah.
‘Me and the missus just moved here from the UK.’ He lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘I’m going to be in big trouble if our furniture hasn’t got here in one piece.’ He winked.
The two men laughed, nodding. The taller man of the two took a long drag on his cigarette and looked down the long line of containers.
‘Have you got the container number?’
Dan showed him the number on the manifest. The man nodded. He put his hand on Dan’s shoulder and turned him back towards the harbour.
‘The ones that didn’t get put on tru
cks when they arrived – the last three columns down there.’
Dan thanked the two men and walked back to Sarah, grinning.
‘Bingo,’ he said. ‘Follow me.’
Dan began to walk towards the columns of containers the dock workers had pointed out.
‘Hope you enjoy your stay here!’ the shorter man called out.
Sarah turned to Dan. ‘What did he say?’
‘Doesn’t matter. Keep walking,’ he said and turned and waved back at the dock workers.
They reached the last few columns of stacked containers.
‘Okay,’ said Dan. ‘According to our friends back there, these containers are the most recent arrivals. So let’s start looking. Got a pen?’
Sarah reached into her bag and dug around. She handed him a pen and watched as he wrote the manifest reference number on the palm of his hand before handing the document back to her. He glanced up, noticing her watching him.
‘No, I don’t have a photographic memory,’ he explained. ‘I’m just an ordinary bloke.’ He grinned and handed back the pen.
They split up. Dan indicated to Sarah to take the right-hand stack while he searched the left.
He began to walk around the coloured containers. There seemed to be six colours available – red, green, blue, white, rust and more rust. He craned his neck upwards, reading the serial numbers on the side. Every now and again, he looked down, just to counteract the ache developing in his neck. A sudden shout made him spin round.
‘Dan! Look at this!’
He turned, searching out the sound of Sarah’s voice. ‘Where are you?’ he shouted.
‘Go back to the main corridor between the containers – I’ll look out for you.’
He jogged back the way he came. As he turned a corner, he almost ran into Sarah. He grabbed hold of her shoulders. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ she nodded. ‘Come and see this.’
She took hold of his hand and led him through the container stacks on the other side until she came to a rusting light blue one. The door was wide open. Sarah handed Dan the manifest.
‘This is the one.’ He stared at the manifest, then at the number stamped on the door of the container. ‘Shit. We’re too late.’ Dan punched the side of the container in frustration. They’d been so close.
Sarah looked at Dan. ‘Now what do we do?’
He shrugged, handed the manifest to Sarah, put his hands in his pockets then stepped into the open container. He stood in the middle of it, just outside of the shadows and turned around. He looked down. Frowned. Then crouched, looking at the floor. A wide grin spread across his face.
‘Look at this,’ he called, turning back to the open door.
Sarah frowned. She stepped into the container and looked at where Dan was pointing.
‘Looks like… like engine oil,’ she said, confused.
Dan was still smiling. ‘So he’s got a car, right?’
Sarah looked at him. ‘So where is it?’
Dan brushed past her and jogged back down between the containers looking left and right until he saw a telltale puff of smoke. He ran up to it.
‘Hi!’ he said.
The two dock workers jumped. Kicked a deck of cards under a nearby container and turned to Dan in unison.
‘Yes?’ asked the shorter one.
Dan held up his hands. ‘It’s okay – no problem.’
The two men relaxed and smiled.
Dan looked behind him at the row of containers, then back at the two men. ‘Have you seen a car being driven around here over the past few weeks – out of one of the containers?’ he asked.
The taller of the two men grinned. ‘Ah! Nice car!’ he exclaimed.
Dan smiled and nodded, trying to keep his excitement in check. ‘Listen,’ he said, lowering his voice, ‘the missus says it’s meant to be a surprise for my birthday next week, but,’ he added, turning as if to make sure Sarah wasn’t within ear shot, ‘any idea what sort of car it is?’
The man giggled, pleased to share the secret. ‘Yes, yes! Black sedan – four doors. German make. Latest model.’ He grinned. ‘You are a very lucky man!’
Dan punched the air. ‘Where did it go?’ he asked.
The dock worker pulled Dan with him and walked between two columns of containers. As they broke through the boundary, the man pointed in front of them.
‘They drove it in there.’
Dan followed where the man was pointing and found himself staring at a row of warehouses. He thanked the dock worker and ran back to where Sarah was standing.
‘Come and see this – we might be in luck yet.’
They hurried to the line of warehouses, now silhouetted in the fading light. Dan glanced round as, one by one, automatic timers switched on floodlights around the terminal and the docks were bathed in orange and white lights. Even at night, it appeared the dock activity continued, with container ships and freighters being pulled towards the terminals by tugboats, while cranes swayed backwards and forwards.
Dan and Sarah slowed as they approached the warehouses. After the disappointment of the empty container, Dan couldn’t help the excitement he felt as he stopped in front of the first set of doors.
‘Did he say which one the car went in?’ asked Sarah.
‘Third from the end. Apparently these have double doors on the other side which face the docks but that dock worker said he definitely saw a car being driven out from that container and into that warehouse through those doors down there.’
Dan began to walk towards it.
‘Wait.’ Sarah grabbed his arm. ‘Won’t it be guarded?’
Dan stopped. ‘You know, I don’t think so. I reckon Delaney’s so arrogant, he won’t think it’s necessary.’ He paused. ‘I reckon we should keep our eyes open though.’
Sarah nodded in agreement. ‘Okay. Works for me.’
They kept close to the front of the warehouses in an attempt to blend in with the shadows caused by the roof overhang and crept closer to the third building. When they got nearer, Dan pushed Sarah behind him and held up his hand. Wait.
He continued towards the third warehouse without her until he was outside the huge double doors. They were simple, made of corrugated iron with a chain wrapped through the handles which was secured with a padlock.
Sarah crept closer to him. ‘Do that trick with the lock, like you did at Delaney’s place in Brisbane,’ she whispered.
Dan rolled his eyes. He had known he was going to pay for that piece of luck. Shrugging, he reached into his jeans pocket for the small multi-tool and flipped it open at random.
‘Watch my back,’ he said to Sarah, ‘Because this is going to look really suspicious.’
She nodded and turned away from him.
Dan closed his eyes, offered a prayer to a god he didn’t believe in and set to work. Twisting the small metal implement left and right in the padlock, he raised his eyebrows in surprise as he felt the mechanism give, then watched as the padlock slipped open. He glanced at the heavens in a silent salute and turned to Sarah.
‘We’re in.’
He pushed the switch for the warehouse door and it groaned open. As the beams from the dockside floodlights filtered through the dark interior, Sarah gasped. The warehouse was full of cars – hundreds of them. They walked into the entrance of the warehouse.
Sarah put her hands on her hips and turned to Dan. ‘Okay, now what?’
He ran his hand through his hair, exasperated. ‘Shit! It’s got to be here somewhere!’ He narrowed his eyes, squinting in the dim light. ‘Okay, first let’s find some lights.’
Sarah ran back to the warehouse door and scanned the bank of switches. ‘Here goes – try this.’
A bank of fluorescent lights began to flicker on in sequence along the ceiling of the warehouse. It seemed to take forever.
Sarah gaped up at the ceiling as the lights went on. ‘Jesus – how big is this place, Dan? This is going to take forever!’
‘The only way we’r
e going to find it is to split up,’ he said. ‘Dial my mobile and keep your phone connected – if there’s any problem or you find something, you can say so straight away.’
Sarah nodded, turned towards the left-hand side of the warehouse and walked away, checking the cars parked either side of her.
Dan turned and began walking along the right-hand side of the warehouse. As he walked, he looked left and right – it had to be here, had to be. He glanced up and saw Sarah walking alongside the opposite wall. He assumed she had the same stunned expression on his face. There were just so many vehicles. All different makes, models, configurations, colours. Parked end to end in row upon row, all the way through the building.
Sarah’s voice crackled over his mobile. Dan held it up to his ear. ‘Say again?’
‘I said – are all of these privately owned?’ Sarah asked.
He looked around. ‘Yes. The ones going to dealerships are parked on the dockside by the stevedores as soon as they arrive so the car transporters can be loaded up.’
He dropped the phone back into his shirt pocket and glanced up. Sarah was making good progress, gradually disappearing into the shadowed bowels of the far end of the warehouse. Dan sighed, looked at the cars surrounding him and dreamed about test driving just one of them.
He scuffed along the narrow path between vehicles, careful not to brush against any in case he set off an alarm. He frowned as he approached a low-slung silver sports sedan. It seemed to have more space around it than the others.
As he got closer, he saw the sports car straddled two parking bays. He walked past it, checked the angle and walked back. He crouched down and peered underneath.
A dark pool of liquid behind the front wheel to his right caught his attention as it captured the reflection of the warehouse lights. Crouching down on his hands and knees, Dan stretched his left hand under the car and dabbed his finger in the viscous liquid. He drew his hand back and stared at his finger.
Engine oil.
He looked underneath the silver sedan again. The oil was in the wrong place. It wasn’t aligned with the engine block of the vehicle above it.
‘Which means this car’s been moved to hide the fact the black sedan’s already gone,’ he murmured.
White Gold: (A Dan Taylor thriller) Page 14
