The morning quietly melted into the rest of the day and we were now at the end of the row instead of the middle. That was progress, but there was still a sea of green crates stretched out in front of us and I groaned. I never thought that one room could hold so many of the same repetitive thing, but then I hadn't been in the crib for a couple of months. If all of these ended up empty, someone was going to get a kick to the head.
On lunch, I got the only thing I could think of for Nix – a gift certificate to a restaurant that serves a lot of imported wraith "delicacies". I use the word delicacy carefully, since my idea of a good meal isn't something that fights back, screams, and bleeds when you try to eat it. K'rth didn't remember Nix's birthday either, so either both of us were losing track of dates or Gael was. Like a true friend, I hoped it was Gael who was sliding into early senility.
Near the end of the day, a group of dockworkers and Shivers were moving around the end of our row and I figured that this was probably the same squad on yesterday's sign in. They must have pulled customs duty and I wondered if they liked it as much as Sleeper. When I noticed that they were nosing around the crates we hadn't checked, I decided to intervene because we didn't need anyone to screw us up further. Besides, I hadn't pissed off any Shivers today and needed to meet my quota.
By the time I walked down to them, a forklift had one of our crates a few inches off the ground and they were prepared to move it. I looked around for someone in charge, but when that failed, I chose the nearest Shiver. I must have really spooked him because when I tapped him on the shoulder, he turned and flinched.
"W-what?" he started. "Th-this is a secure area, you're trespassing."
"I'm on BPN number DC38Z slash 45 D442 and you're about to screw it up." I said as I looked at the two crates they were about to move. These were two of the tall armored ones and I knew they'd be a bitch to open. Even though one was badly dented, it still looked solid enough to be trouble. The forklift whined as it hoisted it off the ground and the crew maneuvered out of its way..
"You're going to have to leave the area Sloperative. You're trespassing."
I wondered if this was his mantra or something and the slur didn't sit particularly well. I put my hand on his shoulder and he flinched again. It must be my cologne that sets the Shivers off.
"Let me make this clear - you're not moving those crates until we're finished with them. Understand?" I said, maintaining my stare at the eye slots. He shook his head slightly and there was a tremble in his voice. What the hell was wrong with him?
"W-we've got our orders and you're in a secur-"
"I know, I know a 'secure area'. All right asshole, where's your sergeant?"
He pointed towards another Shiver who was already on his way over. I saw the name Jamison on the ID tag and hoped this guy would be more helpful. Of course, I could always sic Casper on them if they gave me too much of a problem. I'm sure that would fix everything.
"Is there a problem operative?" he asked. His body language was noncommittal as if he hadn't heard any of the conversation. That was pretty unlikely considering their helmet mikes, but at least he was polite enough to ask.
"Yeah, I'm on a BPN to search all the crates in this dock for contraband and you're about to move two that we haven't opened yet."
"We have our orders to move a few containers to holding area 5, but I don't see a problem. How about we tag and move them, then you can check them there?"
I nodded and pulled out my note pad and pen. More was going on than they were going to tell me, but at the quick head count, they had me outnumbered by about sixteen to one. I decided to wait until I had a chance to flip the odds back into my favor.
"Sounds fair Sergeant, but I'm going to take down the tag numbers so there aren't any mistakes."
"I understand," he said, "If it were my bacon on the line, I wouldn't want to make a mistake either." The bastard was entirely too friendly and the hair at the back of my neck was standing up again. That made two of the boys in green that were worthy of a private discussion with a rubber hose and plastic floors.
I nodded as I scribbled down the two label numbers and put the pad away. As I started to walk away, I decided to give him the chance to bury himself.
"Only two?" I asked.
"Yes sir."
"Alright. Thanks Sergeant. Let me know before you move anything else, ok?"
"No problemo, operative."
As I headed back to the crates, I made a mental note to tell Casper about the crates being moved. I knew that if something got by us, we'd be in deep crap. Besides, I'd hate to miss the opportunity to pop open a couple more empties and maybe lop off a finger in the process. When I got back, Gael was waiting impatiently and cradling the crowbar and sniffer.
"What, you couldn't get it open?" I asked and she shoved the crowbar at me. Together we popped another one of the heavy crates and the sniffer beeped negative again.
Talking to the Shivers had been the only thing to break the monotony and the boredom had sapped my energy to the point that I didn't feel up to surveillance work. I kept mildly aware of the work on the end of the row and blew out my breath in frustration as I skinned another knuckle.
"I wonder why we even try," I snorted.
"Because Mr. Slayer tells us to," she said.
"Oh yeah," I mumbled as I licked my hand, "I forgot."
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