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datatime: 2022-11-27 02:54:04 Author:VLVsZuVM

Marino has been a detective as long as I've known him. He didn't work in uniform. -If it were me and I was trying to jump ship or was an illegal alien, I think I'd want to end up in some really big port like Miami or L.A. where I could get lost in the shuffle.

What about stowaways? I asked.Although I can't imagine anyone choosing to hide inside a locked container for two weeks on high seas.

That's what it looks like. The number matches the one on the entry filed by the Customs broker, nothing the least out of the ordinary. In fact, this cargo's already been released by Customs. Was five days ago, Shaw told me.Which is why it was loaded straight on a chassis. Then we got a whiff and no way that container was going anywhere.

Some looked on from the bows of their ships and through the windows of deckhouses. Heat rose from oilstained asphalt scattered with wooden frames, spacers and skids, and a CSX train clanked and scraped through a crossing beyond the warehouses. The smell of creosote was strong but could not mask the stench of rotting human flesh that drifted like smoke on the air.

I watched in disbelief as Pete Marino climbed out of the cruiser that had just parked next to my car.

I couldn't imagine why anyone would throw someone so valuable back into uniform. I wondered how long ago this had happened. I was hurt Marino hadn't let me know, and I was ashamed I hadn't found out anyway. It had been weeks, maybe a month, since I had called just to check on him. I couldn't remember the last time I'd invited him to drop by my office for coffee or to come to my house for-dinner.

.Where did the ship set sail from? I asked Shaw as I noticed a marked car parking next to my Mercedes.

That's what it looks like. The number matches the one on the entry filed by the Customs broker, nothing the least out of the ordinary. In fact, this cargo's already been released by Customs. Was five days ago, Shaw told me.Which is why it was loaded straight on a chassis. Then we got a whiff and no way that container was going anywhere.

That's right.

Meaning the body, alive or dead, most likely was inside the container before it was sealed' I said.

Anderson walked up to us, chewing gum.

Shaw squinted.Darn, this sun is bright.

Never had one that I know of. Besides, we're not the first port of call. Chester, Pennsylvania, is. Most of our ships go from Antwerp to Chester to here, and then straight back to Antwerp. A stowaway's most likely going to bail out in Chester instead of waiting till he gets to Richmond.

Did the foreign shipper affix the seal?

That's what it looks like. The number matches the one on the entry filed by the Customs broker, nothing the least out of the ordinary. In fact, this cargo's already been released by Customs. Was five days ago, Shaw told me.Which is why it was loaded straight on a chassis. Then we got a whiff and no way that container was going anywhere.

Did the foreign shipper affix the seal?

Shaw squinted.Darn, this sun is bright.

There's been a lot of changes in the department since Deputy Chief Bray got here, Anderson said as if she were proud of the fact.

We're a niche port, Dr. Scarpetta, Shaw went on.

I couldn't imagine why anyone would throw someone so valuable back into uniform. I wondered how long ago this had happened. I was hurt Marino hadn't let me know, and I was ashamed I hadn't found out anyway. It had been weeks, maybe a month, since I had called just to check on him. I couldn't remember the last time I'd invited him to drop by my office for coffee or to come to my house for-dinner.

He got reassigned.

Why's he in uniform? I asked her.

I looked around, taking in the entire scene at once. A light breeze clinked heavy chains against cranes that had been offloading steel beams from the Eurocl#p, three hatches at a time, when all activity stopped. Forklifts and flatbed trucks had been abandoned. Dockworkers and crew had nothing to do and kept their eyes on us from the tarmac.

Some looked on from the bows of their ships and through the windows of deckhouses. Heat rose from oilstained asphalt scattered with wooden frames, spacers and skids, and a CSX train clanked and scraped through a crossing beyond the warehouses. The smell of creosote was strong but could not mask the stench of rotting human flesh that drifted like smoke on the air.

Mr. Shaw, what was being shipped inside the container? I asked him.

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