trying to figure this out was a non-starter, so instead of obsessing over Wednesday, as I had last week, I stuck to the agenda I’d worked out on Tuesday and waited to see what would develop. I loaded my favorite financial webpage and looked at the list of Wednesday’s biggest stock gainers. I knew I was supposed to research stocks before buying them, but with the element of chance all but removed, it was like fishing in a trout pond.
Even so, I treaded cautiously. I doubted that anyone monitored my transactions but there were all kinds of scenarios in which they might later. Anything I did today would be available to audit or subpoena for years.
I picked four stocks to buy Wednesday morning. One had gained eighty-three percent, another sixty-nine, while one has risen modestly and the fourth had actually lost a little. That wouldn’t fool anyone intent on proving I knew the stock movements in advance, but my need to seek balance in all things hadn’t yet adapted to the new rules.
After puttering ineffectually for a while, I loaded the Maritime Association website to see if a berthing assignment had been made for Al Khalifa . It took only a few seconds to find it, berth 24.1 at the Howland Hook Marine Terminal on Staten Island, north of the Goethals Bridge. She was due to dock at 9:40 this morning, which fit with what Ilene had said.
Did that mean the impound order hadn’t been issued? I didn’t have a lot of time to ponder that before William called. “Ready to move, Dylan?”
“On your count, William.”
“There’ll be a car outside your building in fifteen minutes.”
“We going to Howland Hook?”
Any surprise William may have felt was masked by annoyance. “That’s out of order, Dylan, and you know it.”
He was right. Even with a scrambler, you never gave unnecessary information over a phone line. What the hell was I doing, showing off?
“Will I be riding with you?” If he said yes I still had an opportunity to warn him that something bad was going to happen, but all I heard was an exasperated “Jesus!” followed by a sharp click.
For all William’s concern with security, I wondered why he hadn’t rejected the trite, black SUV that pulled up fourteen minutes later. We might as well have been flying cavalry flags. Inside were William, Samir, and two grunts that William generally referred to as gorillas. William whirled on me before the door had closed.
“What the fuck is with you, Dylan? You forget everything I ever taught you?”
“Sorry, William. I wasn’t thinking.”
He grumbled something, and that was that. “Couple more guys’ll meet up with us at the terminal. I had to wake up some people this morning to get Homeland Security’s attention. The least the fuckers could have done was contact the Port Authority and keep that damn ship on hold while they scratched their asses makin’ us wait.”
William shook his head, obviously disgusted. Putting domestic security under a single umbrella was supposed to improve communication among agencies. “We’ll just have to make the best of it. Customs should be on the dock with an impound order by now. Blows the shit out of our cover, but it can’t be helped.”
William wanted us on board the ship the instant we arrived. Samir and I would head for the suspect container with one of the gorillas alongside. It turned out the latter was a wiz with small explosives, which would be our last resort for getting the container open. I didn’t like that – one slip and we might set off our own dirty bomb. William logged my objection and we moved on to the rest of his plan, which isn’t worth repeating, since we never got to put it in play.
We had a few minutes of quiet which I used to wrack my brain, but the best I could come up with was, “I have a bad feeling about this, William.” We were already on the Bayonne Bridge. We’d be there in three minutes.
To my relief, he
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