“No need to create one of those,” said Raja. He followed Remy who followed the machine gun toting customs agent onto the docks.
“If anyone unauthorized came onto the docks, we would see them,” said the agent. “And stop them, with force if necessary.” He patted his weapon and did not smile.
Raja looked at the agent. Why was it that governments insisted on putting insanely deadly weapons in the hands of insanely deadly men?
Raja walked toward the edge of the dock weaving through the containers. He was a tiny child lost among a world of giant colorful rectangular building blocks. “I don’t know how you could see anyone. Or how you could keep track of all these containers.”
“There are surveillance cameras everywhere,” said the agent. “And every box gets a coded RF sticker for identification. The stickers are monitored, logged and counted daily. Trust me, nothing and no one gets in or out of this place.”
“That is impressive.”
“I’ll say,” said Remy. “Do you really think someone could bring women in and out of here without being seen?”
“No, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. Come on, I want to see if we can find the containers Assad left.”
The two men walked the rows until Remy found the name Alhambra on the side of a container. “Over here.”
Raja worked his way around to the voice. It was like a maze. Remy had already located another container with the ship’s logo on it. Both kept looking. “Here,” they both said at the same time.
“I found another one,” said Raja.
“So did I,” said Remy. Indeed, they had located a fourth container from the ship. “You must have gotten the wrong number of containers.”
“Could be,” said Raja. He would have to check with Vinny. “Let’s check for any more.” A thorough search turned up no more containers with the Alhambra logo.
“I have a couple questions for the customs agent.” They found him patrolling near the entrance. “So what happens to the containers after they clear customs?” asked Raja.
“Do you see those two cranes?”
Raja shielded his eyes so he could look up at two tall derricks rising above the docks.
“One of those loads the cleared boxes onto a railroad car and they go to the train yard where they are unloaded and distributed by local trucks. Then the trains loop back here and the empties are loaded onto the ships.”
“Aren’t some containers filled and shipped out again?”
“Not here. These are empties only. And they are checked. The loaded export containers leave from a different dock only after they clear customs inspection.”
“What about any leftover containers?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you load the incoming containers onto the railway cars, what happens to the leftover containers?”
“With our tracking system there shouldn’t be any. If there were, they would be seized by customs, until the error could be found and corrected. I thought you were looking for a fugitive. Why all the questions?”
“Just curious. You are doing a very good job. Officer Montagne, we should write a commendation on—what was your name?”
“Cartier. Officer Lucas Cartier.”
“Make a note,” said Raja, as they walked away.
“I work Dock 21,” called the agent, as Raja and Remy were leaving.
“They seem to have pretty tight security there. What do you think?” asked Remy.
“It’s all about options,” said Raja.
“Options?”
“We eliminate as many options as possible and what we are left with has to be the method they are using to transport the girls.”
“How do we do that?”
“We start with what we know.”
“We know that Assad has unloaded his containers onto the docks.”
“Not precise enough.”
Remy thought for a few seconds. “We know Assad unloaded four containers onto Dock 21.”
“Precisely. We need to check on that with my associate.” Raja made a call. “Yeah, it’s me,” said Raja. “Who else were you expecting? Never mind. I need you to recheck the number of containers logged into customs from the Alhambra.” Raja waited. “Okay, thanks. I have to go.”
Turning to Remy, he said, “My associate double-checked the count and only showed three containers logged in.”
“How would he have access to that information, anyway? And who is this associate of yours?”
“How and who are unimportant at the moment. I know it is reliable information. You will have to trust me on that.”
“Okay, so what does it mean?”
“It means someone in customs is helping our Mr. Assad. It also means there is a high probability that Assad is bringing something into Paris besides rugs.”
“You know all that? I can see why you are so successful as a private detective.”
“What makes you think I’m successful?”
“Well, that’s what Inspector Gilliard implied.”
“What else did he say?”
“Only to watch you closely because I might learn something.”
“And that’s all?”
“Yes. And, with you owning all the cars and such, I just assumed you were successful.”
“You must watch out for assumptions. They often taste like egg.”
“Huh?”
“Getting back to our task, make a note. We are going to find out what comes in that fourth container. But first, let’s figure out how the women are being taken out of Paris.”
“That’s easy. They are loaded into an empty container and put back on the ship.”
“Remember, the agent we talked to said that all the empties are checked.”
“Yes, but you said yourself Assad has help on the inside.”
“True, but getting live women back out through customs would require too many people to be in on it. Buying or blackmailing one customs agent is one thing. A whole group is not likely. And, any noise the women made would attract attention. Too many random factors for that to work consistently, which it apparently has been doing to date. I think that Assad has to get the women onto his own boat directly.”
“How?”
“That’s what we are going to find out. We need a better view.”
Raja drove them onto the overpass bridge where they parked. They got out. It was a bird’s eye view of the river and the docks.
“This is certainly a better view,” said Remy. “What are we looking for?”
“Means and opportunity.”
“What do we do?”
“Look.” The two men watched the activities on the river for an hour. They could see all the activities at the docks as well as watch the ships as they sailed off. “Okay what did you see?” asked Raja.
“I saw one riverboat arrive and unload two containers and two more ships leave after picking up two containers apiece.”
“Anything else?”
“The riverboats sailed away without stopping.”
“Good. Anything else?”
“No.”
“Exactly.” Now Raja sounded happy.
“That’s good?”
“Of course. We have eliminated several options. It would be too obvious if a smaller boat were bringing the women out to the larger ships, since that does not routinely happen. There is one thing you did not see when the riverboats left.”
“How would I know what I did not see?”
“Think about what ALL ships require.”
“Crews.”
“Already on the ship.”
“Supplies.”
“Possibly, but they might have enough.”
“What then?”
“Fuel. The departing riverboats must have been fueled before arriving at the dock. That’s where the women are getting on board.”
“That’s brilliant,” said Remy. “The women are already on board when the ship docks to unload its goods. No one would suspect.�
��
A phone call to Vinny confirmed that the ships refueled first because there was more room to maneuver at an earlier spot in the river.
“Let’s go. We need to see first hand.”
Raja and Remy drove to the refueling station to do observation.
“Just as I thought, there is no customs security here,” said Raja. “Those guards are there to protect the fuel tanks but that’s all. This is where the girls get onto the riverboat.”
Vinny called to report that containers from the Alhambra had just been cleared through customs.
Raja and Remy raced back to the docks and resumed their position on the bridge overlooking the operations below. They watched the crane loading containers onto the train cars that sat near the docks. It would be some time before they got to the four containers from the Alhambra.
“Shouldn’t we search the containers now before they leave the dock?” asked Remy.
“Could we do that based solely on our deductions?”
“No, we couldn’t.” Remy was disappointed.
“We also wouldn’t know where they are going. We need to track them and determine where that one extra container goes.”
As they watched from the bridge, Raja noticed all traffic had stopped coming across. Then he saw the flashing lights of police cars approaching from both sides. Their sirens were off.
“We are about to have company,” said Raja.
Remy looked both ways. “That is odd. It looks almost as if they were coming for us.”
“You are nearly correct. They are coming for me.”
The police cars bearing down on them swerved and stopped blocking the bridge. Several officers got out and trained weapons on Raja and Remy. Two men in gendarme uniforms approached from one side of the bridge.
“I’m a police officer,” said Remy, stepping forward and showing his badge. “What’s going on here?”
“We know, Officer Montagne. Please stand aside.”
“Raja Williams, you are wanted for questioning at the Gendarmerie regarding terrorist activity and espionage.”
Raja slipped his car keys to Remy and whispered, “Follow the containers.”
“This must be a mistake,” said Remy.
“There is no mistake,” said the gendarme. “We will take it from here. You can go back to your station.”
The second gendarme handcuffed Raja.
“That is completely unnecessary,” said Remy. “Raja is here with me, working on a case.”
“It’s okay, Remy,” said Raja. “Looks like you got your wish.” He nodded at the orange Porsche. “Take care of Napoleon for me, will you?”
Remy closed his hand on the keys and nodded blankly, still in shock from the sudden turn of events.
Chapter Twenty-three: Raja Interrupted
The ride to the Gendarmerie was a stony, quiet one. The two gendarmes made no conversation with Raja or each other. Raja sat in a small metal cage, chained to one side, the epitome of persona non grata. He was a possible terrorist, after all. Raja played along and said nothing to antagonize either of the officers. Tensions in France were running high, especially since the recent overt murders of four French school children and several policemen in Toulouse by a self-professed extremist.
This wasn’t the first time Raja had come under scrutiny since 9/11. As a frequent world traveler who made a habit of poking his nose into criminal activity almost everywhere he went, it was par for the course. He never got used to it. The absolute power of a government only becomes real when it is aimed directly at you.
The government van turned into the garage under the building, stopping at a secure entrance. After the gendarmes extracted Raja from the van, they signaled to the man in the guard house who electronically opened the gate. The gendarmes walked Raja through and into the building. Two long hallways and two more electronic checkpoints brought them finally to a row of three small cells somewhere deep inside the building. One gendarme unlocked Raja’s cuffs while the other stood guard over the proceedings. After Raja entered the cell, the officer closed the door. It locked with a buzz and a clank. The officer tested the door for good measure and the two men left Raja alone.
No one had spoken during the entire trip, not a good sign. Raja didn’t know what falsehoods had been concocted against him, but the timing was certainly suspect. Someone wanted him out of the way. The first person he thought of was Inspector Gilliard.
Raja had no way to contact Vinny, which was probably a good thing for the moment. She got pretty outraged when it came to heavy-handed government actions, and might do something to make his situation worse than it already was. On several previous occasions, he had to talk her out of executing a jailbreak on his behalf.
Of course, if push came to shove, having someone of Vinny’s passion and skills in your corner was a very good thing. Right now he even regretted not letting Vinny implant a tiny tracker on him. Although she had been so excited about the idea, it made him feel like a family pet or a prisoner. Vinny had insisted it was only for his protection, and that only she would know the frequency to find him if he got into a jam. Maybe his current situation fit the bill.
For now, Raja simply waited. Having a high international profile and a number of prominent government figures indebted to him was reassuring. He expected that he would be dealt with fairly quickly. At least he hoped so. God help you these days, if you were nobody but a John Q. Citizen. All bets were off for expecting any legal rights since 9/11. It wasn’t that there weren’t already places where any government could “lose” you if they really wanted to. Now it was just easier. Now you could label a guy a terrorist, and everybody nodded and went about their business while he rotted in a cell.
As the hours ticked past, visions of being locked away in some dank underground cell began to creep into Raja’s head. Maybe he wasn’t as well connected as he thought. More likely an enemy was better connected. Much later than Raja expected, an officer came and opened his cell.
“Turn around,” said the officer. Raja did so, and the gendarme cuffed his hands behind him.
“Is this necessary?” asked Raja.
“It is standard procedure,” said the officer. “This way.” The officer took him to get fingerprinted and photographed. Another more thorough search turned up nothing of interest.
“I don’t suppose asking for legal representation would do any good?”
“You have not been arrested,” said the officer. “You are merely being detained.”
Raja loved the many ways legal hairs could be split when it came down to it. And the euphemisms. “Why the fingerprinting, if I’m not being arrested?” He knew the answer before it came.
“Standard procedure,” said the officer.
Next stop was an interrogation room. The walls were drab green and the floor a dull grey linoleum. Raja was cuffed to a heavy metal table bolted to the floor in the center of the room. He looked around but there was nothing to see. The room was devoid of decoration. After waiting over an hour, Raja smiled. Maybe they planned to bore him into confessing. When the door finally opened several hours later, Raja perked up until he saw who walked in. It was Captain Milan, the very woman who had kicked him in the teeth the last time he was in the Gendarmerie attempting to get information. The ice queen would have fit right in as an interrogator in one of those old black and white World War II films.
“I see you have managed to find your way back to us, Monsieur Williams.”
Raja recalled the last time he had been to the dentist. This was going to be worse. He unclenched his jaw and said, “Yes, Capitaine.”
“Do you know why you are here?”
“I’m sure I could come up with something, but I’d rather you just tell me and put me out of my misery.”
“I have several reports in front of me. Gun running in Africa. Illegal flights in and out of Afghanistan. An unauthorized armed raid on a labor camp inside a country not favorable to the West. These certainly appear to be serious acts that could be added
up to terrorism, depending on one’s point of view.” Captain Milan paused to let the communication have an effect.
Raja knew exactly what she was talking about, but they were far from acts of terrorism. Nonetheless, it did sound bad, even to him. Knowing he wasn’t going to charm his way out of this mess, he estimated his options. A desperate phone call to the right person might work, but he knew he likely wouldn’t get one. He needed a plan, something he was sorely lacking at the moment. He had to say something, and opened his mouth to speak.
“I am not finished, Monsieur.”
Raja closed his mouth and sighed. Bad just might get worse.
“As I said, these could sum up to terrorist acts from a particular view, which I am quite certain they were meant to do.” Again she paused.
Raja said nothing.
“Do you know what is NOT in these reports, Monsieur Williams?”
“No.”
“Any reports that are less than five years old. Finding that odd, I made a thorough examination of all the information available on these events. The complete data revealed that, in fact, your actions saved lives. Innocent lives. That is MY view.”
Raja was beginning to warm up to Captain Milan.
“Turn off the recorder,” she said looking at the camera in the corner. The red light went off. “Someone has tried to, how do you Americans say, railroad you. I will not be a party to it. And, I will find out who is behind this action.”
Raja would have bet good money against such a favorable outcome, and lost. Now was certainly no time to complain.
The captain called for the guard. “Uncuff this man. He is cleared to leave on my authority. You are to personally make sure he gets his belongings and gets out the door. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Capitaine,” said the guard, unlocking the handcuffs.
“I would prefer not seeing you in here again, Monsieur Williams, especially under similar circumstances. Remember, you will remain on the terrorist watch list. Fate can be a very fickle mistress.” With that, Captain Milan turned and exited the room.
Not one to tempt the gods, Raja kept his mouth shut and followed the officer until he was clear of the building. Only then did he call Vinny.
C'est la Vie (Raja Williams Series) Page 12
