Point of Contact

44

Empty.

The whole damn warehouse was empty.

Jack started to pull off his ball cap to scratch his head, but he caught himself. No point in winding up on a camera now.

He was frustrated as all crap. Did he have the wrong address?

No. Not possible.

Whoever had cleaned the place out had kindly left all the lights on. And why shouldn’t they? There was nothing to see.

And they obviously wanted him to see that.

Jack knelt down and studied the narrow rubber tire tracks that had been left behind by a forklift turning sharp angles and obviously carrying a heavy load. They could’ve been made ten months ago, or ten hours ago.

About the time Lian was keeping him occupied on the tour earlier today.

Jack tried to imagine stacks of pallets or crates of something he wasn’t supposed to know existed. But what?

He walked around the wide, empty floor, looking for clues. An oil stain, a piece of crumpled packing tape, a cigarette butt.

Nothing.

Whatever was in here yesterday, guarded by a platoon of burly goons without any official identification, was gone now.

Moved in a hurry.

Why?

Where?

Standing here with his metaphorical dick in his hands wasn’t answering any of those questions. But he thought he might know a way to get them.

He pulled out his phone and tapped his Uber app again. If his hunch was right, time was not his friend.

Time to play the Gavin card.

Sorry, Jack, I tried,” Gavin said, a rare note of humility in his voice.

Jack couldn’t believe his ears. “I thought you said it would be a piece of cake.”

“I know. I was wrong. The Singapore Police Force cloud server is better protected than I thought it would be. I can keep hammering on my end or even call in a few favors. But we’re talking several hours, maybe days.”

“There isn’t any time.”

“I feel crappy about this.”

Jack wanted to curse. He was frustrated, but it wasn’t Gavin’s fault. He shouldn’t expect the man to pull his bacon out of the fire every time he hit a wall.

His Uber driver pulled up to the curb. “No worries, Gav. Gotta run. I’ll find another way.”

Jack climbed into the Toyota Camry knowing that a long night was ahead of him. He had one other option, and he needed Paul’s help to pull it off. He just hoped the pudgy accountant was up to it.

Jack snuck in the back kitchen door the same way he had left, careful to avoid the Dalfan security car out front and eager to enlist Paul in tonight’s clandestine effort. He heard a noise in the living room and headed there.

Paul sat on the couch in the living room, a half-empty bottle of Bushmills on the coffee table in front of him. His eyes were red-rimmed and rheumy. He forced a smile. “Hello, Jack.”

Jack prayed it was the first bottle. Paul won’t be any help tonight. He crossed over and sat down next to him, patting his fat knee. “What’s wrong?”

“Have a drink with me?”

“What’s going on? Seriously. You can tell me.”

Paul sighed. “I really miss her.”

“Your wife.”

“Carmen was the best.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“You don’t know me, Jack.” Paul stiffened. “Or anything about me.”

“You’re a great accountant. You have impeccable taste in ballpoint pens. What else do I need to know?”

Paul poured himself another drink, spilling some on the coffee table. He then filled an empty glass next to it. “Have a drink with me.”

“I was actually heading back out—”

“Have a drink with me. Please.”

“Okay.” Jack picked up the glass. “What’s the occasion?”

“Today’s my anniversary. Carmen and I would’ve been married thirty-two years today.” He lifted his glass.

“That’s amazing.” Jack touched his glass to Paul’s. “To Carmen, and to you.”

Paul’s lower lip began to quiver, like a child’s. “I miss her, Jack.”

“C’mon, buddy, drink up. You’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

“Like what?”

“Like fantastic memories of a woman you clearly adored, and who adored you, too. Not everybody gets that in this life.” Jack smiled warmly. “My mom and dad have that. I envy them — and I envy you and Carmen.” Jack tossed back his drink.

Paul brightened. “Yeah, you’re right. I am lucky.” He tossed his drink back, too.

Jack stood. “I’d stay and hang out with you, but I’ve got some running around to do.”

“Want me to come along?”

Yeah, if you weren’t already hammered and if it would keep you from drinking yourself into a coma, Jack thought. “Not this time. But thanks.”

Paul grinned wide. Waved a fat finger at him. “Oh, I get it. It’s that woman, isn’t it? Lian? Oh, boy. She’s a beauty. Good for you.” Paul poured himself another drink. “We should toast to that.”

“Another one of those and I’ll be toast. Rain check?”

“Sure! I understand. Not everybody can hold their liquor good as me.” Paul burped.

“Can I get you something to eat before I go?” Anything to get him sobered up, Jack thought.

“Nah, I’m fine. But thanks.”

“Okay. Call me if you need me.”

“Don’t do nothing I wouldn’t do,” Paul said, snickering. But then he darkened. “But you treat her right, you hear me? Or you’ll answer to me.”

Jack nodded gravely. “Of course.”

Jack turned on his heel and headed for his bedroom to take care of some business before paying another visit to the garage. Jogging up the stairs, he swore to himself, frustrated that the night was going to be even longer than he’d expected.