Chapter 57

Sinead ducked a little so she could get a better look out the rearview mirror at the warehouse. She and Jules were camped out in an unmarked car about a block north of the city Port, and things had been quiet for the past couple of hours.

“This is starting to feel like bullshit,” Jules murmured from the passenger seat.

“Well, bullshit or not, it’s the shadiest of the locations,” Sinead said. “We can’t touch the car washes without trying to force an audit or getting a warrant even if we’re sure they are laundering cash through them. This warehouse is our best lead.”

“That doesn’t mean we just sit out here for days waiting for something to happen,” Jules said. “Even if we do see a truck come in, we can’t exactly go up and ask them what they are transporting, or for whom. It’s a plain warehouse owned by a numbered company. This isn’t a television show - we aren’t going to get lucky and hear a woman scream, or a gunshot that gives us exigent circumstances to enter.”

“How are you bored already?” Sinead asked. “We’ve only been here two hours.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what we’re looking for. When you said you needed to do a stakeout I thought you were waiting for Barisha to show up or something.”

“We are waiting for Barisha to show up. Or something.”

Jules scoffed and shifted in her seat, pulling a can of Pringles out of her bag in the back and popping it open. “So what’s your working theory, then?” she asked.

“Smuggling,” Sinead said. “I don’t know what yet.”

“Himself, or for one of the gangs he’s in contact with?”

“It’s got to be for himself,” Sinead said. “The account tied to the company doesn’t filter cash through like the others do, and it holds onto a lot more before transferring it into that ‘to offshore’ account Marc noted. I think this is his backup cash flow or side gig.”

Jules blew out a long breath. “The amount of cash, and the size of the warehouse, don’t match up with drugs. That’s something at least; we don’t need to loop in Vice.”

“I don’t think it’s human trafficking either,” Sinead said. “The Triads and the Cartels dominate that space for the most part and Barisha works with both of them. He wouldn’t want to step on their toes even if he’s scummy enough to do that himself.”

“So he’s smuggling product of some sort,” Jules concluded. “Commercial goods? Just getting around tariffs?”

“I don’t know,” Sinead sighed. “Fuck me, I hope it’s not exotic animals. You remember that bust up in York?”

“Ugh,” Jules gagged, only half-joking. “The smell still hits me sometimes in my sleep and I wake up nauseated.”

“Let’s assume it’s not animals,” Sinead said. “What’s next highest on the ‘oh shit’ scale?”

“Knocking out drugs, people and animals?” Jules pondered. “I mean, it would have to be guns.”

“Are there any reports of an uptick in guns on the street?” Sinead asked.

“No, but we don’t know how long he’s been working, or if he took over from someone else. Just because it would be new to us doesn’t mean it’s not old in general.”

“True,” Sinead sighed. “Alright. So right now our worst-case scenario is guns, but it’s probably something more commercial.”