Chapter 3 second quarter

This time, Vinn was sure the dock foreman was watching him. He stood in the shadows of the warehouse passage, quietly watching.As the drizzle fell, the huge outline of the freighter became blurred, and the lights at the pier turned into pinpoint-sized spots of light.The rain fell on the heated deck, and the steam rose with a faint smell of wood tar.The nocturne of the port plays in the background: intermittent barking of dogs, faint laughter with Portuguese words and calypso songs wafting from the bars of the Corniche. His life was quite moist, but the wind in Miami was a bit tight, so he came here all the way.The port of Belém is not very busy, and all the small freighters are docked on the shore.There is always a stevedore at the dock, and he has experience in loading ships.He said his name was Vin Stevens, and no one asked any further questions.They would not believe him if he said his name was Stevenson.

All the necessary ingredients for success are available.He's had a lot of experience in Miami, enough to give him a keen instinct.Intuition comes in handy here.He deliberately stumbled and fragmented his Portuguese in order to judge the reaction from the eyes of the other party.Rikon, the harbor master's junior assistant, is the last link in the chain that Vinn has broken through. A shipment of cargo from upstream lifted Wen En's spirits.He usually gets two names of the ship: the inbound and the outbound.He always knew exactly what to look for, the boxes were always the same ones.Earlier he had watched them being safely offloaded from the freighter and stored in a warehouse.Now, he just needs to make sure they are the last to be loaded on the freighter bound for the United States.

Wen En is cautious by nature.He keeps an eye on the foreman.Once or twice he sensed that the foreman was suspicious, and it was like alarm bells going off in his head.Every time something like this happened, Wen En would let go a little bit, wait a few days, and continue after the alarm bell passed. He checks his watch.eleven o'clock.He heard a door open and close around the corner.Wenn is stuck to the wall.Heavy footsteps came from the wooden floor, and the familiar voice quickly passed by the street lights.When the footsteps gradually faded away, Wen En looked around the corner.As he expected, the office was dark and empty.With one last look, he turned the corner quietly and walked onto the pier.

Every step he took, the wet, empty backpack tapped his shoulder.Wen En took out the key from his pocket as he walked and held it in his palm.The key is his life.He spent two days on the pier imprinting the shape of the key and duplicating it. Venn walked past a small freighter moored at the parallel quay, black water dripping down the heavy cables and onto the rusty double bollards.The ship appeared to be deserted, not even a watchful sailor on deck.When he saw the warehouse gate not far from the end of the main trestle ahead, he slowed down.Wen En turned his head and glanced, then turned his hand quickly, unlocked the metal door, and slipped in.

He closed the door and let his eyes get used to the dark environment first, which was half the battle.Now just do what needs to be done and get out of here. And as fast as possible.Li Kong became more and more greedy, squeezing cash like a beach sucking sea water.Last time he had a hard time asking about the quantity of this batch.That morning, he found Li Kong and the foreman talking in a low voice, speaking urgently and quickly, and the foreman even glanced at Wen En.Intuition tells Wen En that this is not a place to stay for a long time. In the dark warehouse, the vague outlines of containers and packing boxes gradually emerged.He couldn't risk using the flashlight, but it didn't matter, he was very familiar with the layout of the warehouse, and he could come and go freely when he was asleep.He walked forward cautiously, shuttled among the mountains of goods.

Finally, he found the landmark he was looking for: a weather-beaten-looking pile of crates, six large and one small, huddled alone in a corner.Two large crates stamped: MNH, New York. Vinn had inquired about these crates a few months ago.The master's apprentice told him the cause and effect.They were brought in last autumn from Port Meuse upriver.It was planned to be airlifted to a museum in New York, but the person who arranged it had an accident—an accident that the apprentice would not say exactly.Anyway, the payment didn't arrive in time, and the crates were messed up with red tape and seemed to have been forgotten.

Except Wenn.There just happened to be enough room behind these forgotten crates for him to store his cargo before loading on the departing freighter. A warm night breeze blows from a broken window at a high place, blowing the sweat beads on Wen En's forehead from nervousness.He smiled in the dark.Last week he learned that the crates were finally going back to the US, by which time he would probably have disappeared. He started checking his inventory.This time there was only one box, and the contents fit the outline of the backpack.He knew where the market for such items was and how to get rid of them.He will soon put it into action and go to a far away place to get rid of it.

Just about to squeeze behind those big crates, Wen En froze suddenly.There is a strange smell: similar to mud, a little fishy, ​​like a rotten smell.The port has transshipped many unusual cargoes, but none that give off the smell. Intuition sounded the highest alarm, but he didn't sense that anything was wrong or that something had gone wrong.He continued to squeeze between the museum's cargo and the wall. He stopped again.Something is wrong.Something is very wrong. He heard (rather than saw) something moving in the cramped space.The pungent smell rushed forward, and the rotten stench enveloped him.The huge force suddenly slapped him against the wall.Severe pain erupted in the chest and abdomen.He opened his mouth to scream, but the acid in his throat was churning, and the sharp pain tore apart his skull like lightning, leaving only boundless darkness.

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