Chapter 84

SITA

"Interesting…," he whispered, zooming in on the route.

"It seemed it was heading southwest, then suddenly veered west, north of vridi."

The ship's unexpected course change had taken it away from the busy shipping lanes and towards a remote section of the coast, just off Abidjan.

My mind raced, connecting the dots. This detour wasn't random; it was a calculated move, likely to avoid detection or meet another vessel under the radar.

Just as he was about to cross-reference the AIS data with satellite images, scanning for any signs of other ships or suspicious activity in the area, he had an interference and he quickly turned off his server to avoid tracking.

"What happened?" I asked anxiously.

"Looks like someone almost got into my system."

"So where did it go?"

"I wasn't able to find their current location but I was able to find out just where they were initially headed to."

"If their initial destination was southwest, that means they were heading for Treichville."

"Exactly. Just make sure you are careful. In case you've forgotten, the bounty on your head has tripled. You are becoming quite a celebrity in the underground world."

"Let's leave the compliment for later." With that, we both headed for the door where he dropped me off and bolted back all his electronic doors.

Infiltrating the Port Authority wasn't going to be easy. If the ship was indeed headed for that port, then there must be documents regarding where they dropped anchor or at least when they intended to arrive or who ordered the shipments.

As soon as I got back to the hotel, I packed my bags and left for Treichville. If I needed to obtain answers, then the earlier the better. The drive to Treichville took about 30 minutes, thanks to the free traffic flow. I immediately booked a hotel and waited patiently yet again for the night to fall deeply before making my move.

The port of Treichville was a hive of activity, even under the cloak of night. The air was thick with the rumble of trucks and the clatter of metal as cranes hoisted massive containers from ships. Shadows danced across the pavement under the harsh glow of floodlights, creating a labyrinth network of dark corners and narrow passages.

I moved stealthily through the nocturnal landscape. I was dressed in my dark widow gown which allowed me to blend seamlessly into the shadows. My hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and my sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, absorbing every detail.

My target was the Port Authority Office, a squat building nestled among towering stacks of containers and looming cranes. It was here that I hoped to find the documents detailing the current location and arrival of the shipment.

I quietly made my way towards the perimeter fence avoiding the crowds which loaded and unloaded the ships which had just arrived.

The fence was tall and topped with barbed wire, but I had scouted an entry point earlier. I reached a section where the wire had been pried apart, probably by a crane trying to reverse, it was just enough just enough for me to squeeze through. I slipped off my backpack, threading it through first, and then followed.

On the other side, I crouched low, scanning for guards. A lone security guard patrolled the area, his flashlight beam sweeping lazily over the ground. Timing my moves with the guard's routine, I darted across the open space, pressing myself against the side of the office building.

I retrieved a signal jammer from my bag pack. I aimed it at the camera and activated it. The red light on the camera blinked off, its feed now scrambled. It was only to last for approximately 20 minutes, after that, it will be impossible to turn off until another one hour.

With the camera neutralized, I turned my attention to the door. I pulled out a set of lock-picking tools and quickly got to work. My fingers moved deftly, manipulating the tumblers inside the lock. Within seconds, the lock clicked open. I slipped inside quietly, closing the door softly behind me.

The interior was dimly lit, the glow from a few desk lamps casting long shadows across the cluttered room. Desks were piled high with paperwork, and large maps of shipping routes adorned the walls. Filing cabinets lined one side of the room, each labeled with categories like "Incoming Shipments" and "Cargo Manifests."

I headed straight for the back of the room where the more sensitive documents were likely to be stored. A door marked "Records" caught my attention immediately. What better place to keep files than in a record? I approached it, tested the handle, and locked it was, as expected.

"Why am I not surprised?" I muttered, pulling out her lock-picking tools again.

Within moments, I had the door open and slipped inside. The records room was cramped and filled with rows of filing cabinets. I quickly located the section marked "Incoming Shipments" and began rifling through the files. My eyes scanned the documents, looking for the one I needed.

My fingers paused on a file detailing the shipment I was after. I opened it and quickly found the information I was looking for. I was surprised when read the file. The records from the port in Jamaica, read that the ship had left one month ago, while this very same record said it left in fact, 3 months ago. And was due to arrive the next day. Looks like I'm right on time.

The current location of the ship wasn't specified. The only statement that was made was that it had anchored nearby and was undergoing repairs, I found it hard to believe. Something told me that business had already started offshore. I flipped through the pages in search of who ordered the ship.

At the last page of the document was a signature I was quite familiar with. Mr. Jean, the adviser to the minister of health. That was the same signature I had seen on the documents Baba had sent me . Could it be that he is the one pulling the strings? Or is there another force behind this?