Chapter 2 - The Language of the Harbor
Anthony laughed again.
This time nobody joined him.
“A shipping ledger?”
Nora nodded.
Vincent leaned back.
“Explain.”
She set the coffee pot down.
“My grandmother worked in the Baltimore shipyards for almost forty years. Her father was a dock clerk.”
Nora pointed toward the first column.
“These aren’t coded sentences.”
She indicated the numbers.
“They’re berth numbers.”
Vincent’s expression changed slightly.
“And those?”
“Cargo classifications.”
She pointed toward the anchor symbol.
“That mark was used by independent dock crews decades ago. It meant the shipment had been transferred without customs inspection.”
Anthony frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if the person writing it knew old harbor notation.”
Nora turned another page.
Her nervousness slowly disappeared.
This was no longer about dangerous men.
It was about a document.
Documents made sense.
People were harder.
“This abbreviation here—R.W.”
Vincent leaned closer.
“What does it mean?”
“Red warehouse.”
Anthony scoffed.
“There are dozens of red warehouses.”
“Not anymore.”
Nora shook her head.
“There used to be one near Sparrows Point. Warehouse Seventeen.”
Vincent’s lieutenant, Marcus Bell, suddenly looked at him.
“That building belongs to us.”
Vincent’s eyes remained on Nora.
“What else?”
She examined the page.
“Your brother was tracking shipments.”
“How many?”
“Thirty-two.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Worth?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Marcus answered instead.
“Probably seventy million.”
Nora looked up.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Vincent turned another page.
“Keep reading.”
She did.
Dates.
Berths.
Cargo.
Vehicles.
Then names disguised as initials.
Nora began explaining the pattern.
Every shipment had been diverted.
Every diversion happened before Vincent’s organization received it.
Someone had been stealing from him.
For months.
Then Nora reached the final page.
Her confidence disappeared.
Vincent noticed immediately.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Nora.”
She looked up sharply.
She had never told him her name.
Vincent glanced toward the small brass badge on her vest.
NORA.
“Read the last page.”
Her eyes returned to the notebook.
Michael Caruso had changed his system.
Instead of numbers, he had written a short sequence of nautical flag abbreviations.
Nora translated them silently.
Her stomach dropped.
Vincent leaned forward.
“What does it say?”
Nora looked toward Anthony.
Anthony’s face had gone pale.
That told her everything.
“Nora.”
Vincent’s voice became dangerously quiet.
She spoke.
“Your brother knew who was stealing from you.”
Anthony immediately stepped backward.
Marcus moved between him and the door.
Vincent never looked away from Nora.
“Who?”
Nora read the final line.
“A.R.”
Nobody moved.
Anthony Rizzo.
May you like
Vincent’s oldest friend.
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