The Minoan Cipher

CHAPTER SIXTY

Calvin wished Hawkins luck and dropped him off at the Plaza de las Flores near the Central Market, the meeting place Lily had suggested. Using the cell phone GPS, he followed a route through block after block of deteriorating neighborhoods.

He parked in front of a nondescript warehouse on a street strewn with broken glass. The windows were boarded over with plywood. A chain link fence topped by razor wire enclosed the warehouse, but the wide open main gate was falling off its hinges. The walls were covered with fading paint. Even the graffiti artists avoided the place.

The warehouse was one of a dozen or so similar structures in what must have been a bustling commercial center. There was no number on the building. He’d been advised on the phone that the green light bulb glowing in a wire cage next to the door would tell him he had the right place. He got out of the car, walked through the gate to the warehouse and pushed the doorbell.

A voice came from a square grate a few inches below the light. “State your business.”

“I’m the friend of the gentleman in Amsterdam.”

The man who opened the door was slight of build. He wore a white shirt, loosely knotted tie and dark slacks. His gray hair was disheveled and he had pouches under his eyes. Calvin thought he looked like an overworked accountant chasing a deadline for filing tax returns.

He stepped aside. “Come right in. My name is Higgins.”

It wasn’t a hard accent for Calvin to pick up. “Aussie?”

“Good call. Melbourne. And you’re from southern U.S.?”

“New Orleans.”

“Great town. C’mon. Let’s get you fitted out.”

Their footsteps echoed across the concrete floor. Higgins pushed open a sliding door and led Calvin into a cramped space that functioned as a combined office and living quarters. Higgins told Calvin to take a seat in a folding chair, then plunked himself behind a metal desk and pecked away at the computer keyboard.

Calvin thought back to the plush surroundings where Broz conducted business.

“After Amsterdam, I expected an operation this size to be more elaborate.”

Higgins looked up from his work. “More here than meets the eye. Security cameras are everywhere. Even the street you drove in on is under surveillance. You were checked out before I opened the door. Facial recognition. Voice ID when you called. We’ve got personnel on hand 24/7, but they stay out of sight unless there’s trouble. Some of our guys are pretty scary and we don’t like to frighten legitimate customers.”

Calvin glanced at the cot in a corner, the refrigerator and the folding table. “Looks like you spend a lot of time here.”

“Twenty-four seven. Changing shifts is a big deal security-wise. Okay, here’s your order.” He printed a sheet of paper and handed it to Calvin to read.

Calvin read the list. “Looks okay. Got all the main stuff and the special order.”

Higgins got up from his chair, and with Calvin following, went out onto the warehouse floor and walked to a stack of corner shelves that was almost lost in the cavernous space. He explained that goods were stored in a central distribution center, and orders were shipped to the warehouse as needed. The warehouse was like a post office and he was Postmaster.

Higgins asked Calvin to help pull three wooden boxes off the shelf and set them on the floor. He pried the tops off so Calvin could check the contents against the order.

The first box contained two lines of SEAL underwater gear and paraphernalia. A second carton had the weaponry he had ordered. Calvin lifted a Spike missile out of the third box and hefted it in his hands.

“Cute,” he said.

“Potent, too,” Higgins said. “We pride ourselves on the latest technology. Launcher is under the other stuff.”

He replaced the cover, then he and Calvin loaded the boxes onto a dolly which they pushed to an overhanging door. Higgins opened the door and told Calvin to drive around back to the loading platform for a pick-up. They loaded the boxes in the trunk.

Higgins said the order would be billed to the numbered Swiss bank account Calvin had set up. All products had a thirty-day guarantee. The surveillance system would watch him leave and if anyone tailed him, personnel would take care of it. Once out of the three-kilometer safety zone he’d be on his own. Calvin didn’t know why he had ordered the Spike missile kit. He didn’t see any use for the weapon in the operation he and Hawkins contemplated, but he’d learned to expect the unexpected.

Heck, maybe he simply liked to make things go ‘boom.’