“I do.”
Eisenhower looked at Mack. “You too?”
“Absolutely.”
Eisenhower stood. “Then congratulations, Agent Dawson. You’re lead on your first investigation.”
She thought if this day ever came she would feel like celebrating, but there would be no celebrating. Not with Firuzeh dead and a major threat to the country in the offing. Only sadness and determination. “Thank you, sir.”
“Just know”—he hardened his tone—“if this gets too big or ugly for you to handle, I’ll revisit my decision.”
“I won’t let you down, sir.”
His penetrating gaze met hers and held. “See that you don’t.”
Shock coursed through Evan’s body as he stared at the container turned into a mini-home. He caught a whiff of cinnamon and another spice he couldn’t name, totally at odds with the fact that terrorists had crossed the ocean in this vessel.
The front area of the container served as a sitting area and held a sofa, television, several video gaming systems, and stacks of games. Next was a small kitchen, complete with running water and appliances. The back wall held two doors. Evan would investigate what was behind them when he figured out what to do first.
“It’s like one of those tiny houses you see on TV,” Perez said, drawing Evan from his reverie.
He faced Perez and eased the guy out the door before he got a better look at the place. Evan had already let his surprise keep him from action, and Perez had seen more than Evan should have allowed. “You don’t speak of this to anyone. You got that?”
Perez gave a halfhearted nod.
Evan got in his face. “Seriously. If I find out word got out on this, you’ll be looking at prison time.”
“Okay. Okay.” Perez held up his hands. “I get it. I won’t tell anyone.”
He noticed Perez’s wedding band. “Not even a word to your wife. Or parents. Or best friend.”
He nodded again, this time adding a nervous twitch to it.
Evan hated scaring this man, but he had to guarantee his silence. “I’ll need the bill of lading for the container and any other details you have on the shipment.”
Perez ripped a sheet from his clipboard and handed the paper to Evan.
He took a quick look at the document to confirm the container number on the page matched the one sitting in front of him. “Thank you. You’re free to go.”
“I ... um ... I...” Perez swallowed hard. “I can’t leave you alone here. You don’t have the right credentials.”
Evan eyed Perez.
He stood strong for only a moment before his expression yielded. “Okay, fine. You’re ICE, and you’d be approved if you applied for clearance. I still need to call the head of security to tell him I let you in.”
“Good. Do that. Tell him I want to talk to him.”
Perez nodded and slowly backed away as if waiting for Evan to object. Evan gestured for Perez to keep moving, and he bolted toward his small pickup truck.
Evan went back to Cartwright, who remained near the container door, phone to his ear as he arranged for an FBI Evidence Recovery Team to process the scene. Evan thought Cartwright was jumping the gun in assuming his agency’s team should take lead on forensics.
“I put in a request for ERT.” Cartwright shoved his phone into his pocket.
“You call Watson?”
Cartwright shook his head. “Local FBI office.”
Evan didn’t respond. No need. The JTTF supervisor would decide which agency’s forensic team handled processing the container.
