Vincent
Iwatch the security footage Graysen sent over to me early this morning. In the last month, two of my shipping containers have been hit. They were cleared out. Both times it was for the same company's shipment, already raising red flags. Their products aren’t the most lucrative thing that could be stolen around here.
That meant it had to be an inside job. People knew what was in their containers. The risk is lower along with the security on that section.
I have hundreds of containers delivered to that dock every day. To a random person, they all look the same. You’d never know what container belongs to what company unless you worked here.
The first two hits went off without a hitch, so I knew they’d be back. Thieves are always hungry for more. They get greedy, and that’s what always gets them caught in the end.
Sure, I could tighten things up and likely cut it off now, but I’m annoyed and probably bored too. This is happening in my own backyard. Something about it all is pulling at the back of my mind, and I can’t ignore it. In fact, these are the types of things that can draw out my obsessive personality.
I have shipping docks on each coast in America and even a few in other countries. This dock, however, is where my offices are. Someone is doing this right under my nose—while working for me, too.
I wanted to know who. So I let things stand exactly how they were. I didn’t change anything except for surveillance. I wanted every square inch of this place watched by human eyes all day and night long. I didn’t care how much manpower that would take. It was only a matter of time before I caught them.
Graysen had already narrowed down the list to begin with. My head of security and I are in a bit of a race to see who can catch this person first. It’s going to likely be a draw. With the information Graysen already collected, we could home in on those people.
I thought about crafting a fake intake from BNA Holdings and setting a trap, but something in the back of my mind told me not to. That it may send a warning to whomever was stealing from me. I knew I had to be careful. What if BNA was in on this? Robbing their own shipments so that Castillo Inc was responsible for the loss.
It looks like I was right to be cautious. This is why I always listen to my instincts. They’ve never let me down when it comes to life or business. BNA would have told whomever they had pulling these heists there was no delivery, and it would have spooked the person. I had to wait till a real shipment came in. Patience has never been my strong suit.
I watch as Travis Smith slips into one of the containers and takes out his phone and starts to take pictures before he slips back out. I rewind and play the video one more time to make sure I’m not missing anything else before I flip it off and go to the folder Graysen pulled on him. He’s done extensive intel on the four names he’s narrowed it down to.
The man has everything in here, down to the last time the person got laid and what toothpaste they use. I have no idea how he gets all this shit, and I’m sure it’s not legal, but I don’t care. I’m almost positive it has something to do with the ten years he spent working for the FBI before I snagged him for myself. I wanted the best, so I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.
Travis Smith is a loner, from the looks of things. He’s hopped from job to job. He never stays anywhere too long. Grew up in the foster system and his only family is a sister who he currently lives with. I flip over to the information page about her. It looks pretty clean. She’s had the same two jobs for the past two years: one at a diner and the other at a bar on the weekends. There’s no record of her being in trouble. Unlike Travis, who has been in and out of jail for small bullshit multiple times. No major charges, just drunk and disorderly conduct and a few small petty thefts when he was still a kid.
Those weren’t flagged when he’d been hired here to work the loading docks on the night shift. That was all in his juvenile record, which is sealed. We don’t dive that deep for an entry level position. Graysen, however, did once shit started going missing.
A knock sounds on my office door. “In,” I call. Graysen steps inside my office. “I’ve got him locked in one of the empty containers.” I flip the file back closed.
“He tell you when he was supposed to do the heist?”
“Tonight, but that’s about all he’s given up.” Graysen puts a cell phone down on my desk. “That’s his.” I grab it. “I unlocked it.” Of course he did. The man is worth every penny I pay him.
“He thinks he’s working with BNA?”
“Yes, he’s not smart enough to have gotten himself into shit like this.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a keycard. Our keycard.
“You need—”
“Already on it, sir. Miles is here now doing his thing.” I nod.
“We need to go through those shipments. They’ve been doing the thefts before customs check.”
“I was waiting for you to give me the order. The only thing I can guess is drugs.”
“What has Anderson gotten himself into? When did he put his father into that retirement home?” I ask. BNA is one of the smaller companies we do importing for, but they’ve been with me from the start. Anderson’s father Henry started a construction company before I was even a thought in my parents’ head.
He began doing small remodels himself, and over time, the business grew. I get it. Henry Holdings was very charismatic. He could even pull me into some of his stories and small talk. Not something I’m usually known to do. Before he retired, his company BNA Holdings was building multi-million-dollar homes. His clientele were people who wanted marble and stone shipped in from Italy and other areas around the world. That’s where my company came in.
“I think he retired about six months ago.” That sounds about right.
I don't think Henry wanted to, but his memory was going. He only has one son, and his wife passed away a few years back. I could always tell by how Henry talked about his son he didn't have a lot of faith in him.
I go through Travis' phone and bingo, I spot a text with someone named Andrew. I’m going to guess that’s short for Anderson. They’re vague but not vague enough.
“He owes him a lot of money,” I say, but I’m sure Graysen already knows that. “Shit,” I mutter when I see a few veiled threats with Anderson saying he’ll go after Travis’s sister. “How did he get himself wrapped up in this? Why the hell would he be borrowing money from Anderson?”