Chapter 13
Half my life is an act of revision.
John Irving
I'm standing on my plinth, freezing in the biting easterly wind that whistles around the buildings and the cargo crates of the port, when the final truck rolls off the ship. It's a six-axle articulated lorry and the container is painted green with the logo of a transport company I've never heard of. I hold up my hand to tell the driver to stop, and I can feel his irritation as the air brakes engage.
��Hello,' I say as he lowers the window. ��Where have you come from?'
He's a heavyset middle-aged man with a weathered face, and he gives me an irked look from below the black baseball cap pulled down close to his eyes.
��UK,' he says, and then nods back at the ferry. ��Where d'you think?'
I keep my voice pleasant. ��And what goods are you carrying?' I ask, although I already know the answer because I've seen the manifest. It's machine parts.
��I don't know,' he says. ��I picked it up, that's all.'
You'd think he'd be fully aware of what the load is, but a lot of the documentation is sent electronically now, and sometimes drivers are the last in the chain. Brexit has made things a million times more complicated. We've taken on more staff simply to deal with the digital paperwork.
��That's OK,' I say. ��Would you mind driving into the next lane and they'll direct you. We need to do an additional check.'
��Why?' he demands. ��I've driven all over Europe and nobody ever stops me. Only here in this little island. Who do you think you are?'
��I'm a customs official,' I reply. ��And I'm doing my job.'
��And I'm doing mine.' He glowers. ��I don't need to be delayed.'
��We'll be as quick as we can,' I say. ��Thank you.'
When the last of the vehicles has left the port, I walk over to the large covered shed where the lorry is now parked. The driver is talking to Katelyn, who tells him she needs him to open the container. He grumbles as she breaks the seal, but says nothing more. There's a certain frisson of tension in the team as he swings the doors open to reveal dozens of tightly stacked crates.
��Are you going to check them all?' His tone is sarcastic.
��No,' says Katelyn.
The driver taps his foot, then rubs his arms. Despite some drifting flakes of snow, he's only wearing a gilet over his Meat Loaf T-shirt, and he must be cold. The customs team, me included, are all well wrapped up in thermal fleeces, hats and boots, as well as our hi-vis jackets. We talk quietly among ourselves as we wait for Fish and Chips. When they arrive, Brad signals to Chips to jump into the container. Tail wagging enthusiastically, the dog climbs onto the crates, although his lack of interest in them makes us exchange anxious glances. But after a good rummage around, he sits down and barks, indicating he's detected something.
��X-ray?' I suggest. The crates would be a nightmare to unload and open.
Ken nods, and I tell the driver to move the lorry to the mobile X-ray unit. I like the X-ray unit. I like looking at the images, figuring out what they might be and deciding if there's anything worth investigating further. With Chips having indicated for drugs, I'm sure we'll find something. The question is whether it'll be a big haul or just a spliff the driver has managed to drop in the container. I ask him if he has a jacket to put on while he waits in the designated area for us to X-ray the container. He grabs a fleece from the cab, grumbling all the while.
Mateusz Bernaki, another team member, is already in the unit when I open the door and walk in. He begins the scanning process, and the contents of the truck start to appear on the screen. We both study the image, changing the colour and contrast in an effort to spot anomalies. There's no shading that would indicate anything that shouldn't be there, and yet there's something not quite right.
��See that?' I point to the roof of the container.
��Yup.'
��Any chance we're talking lead-lined?'
��Could be.'
I use my walkie-talkie to ask Robbie if he or Ken saw anything that might have been a false panel in the container.
��No,' he replies.
��Get the driver to bring it to the yard,' I tell him. ��We're going to search it.'
I walk outside and explain to the driver what's happening. He seems resigned now, and asks if he can get coffee while we're searching the container. I say I'll see what we can do. We're not great on guest comforts at the port. He gets back into his cab, and we follow him in our customs cars, making sure he parks the lorry in the designated bay. I bring him to a room where I tell him he'll have to wait. As I leave, I hear him ask another one of the officers for coffee.
Back in the bay, Ken and Katelyn climb onto the crates and begin checking the container itself, running their hands over the roof, which, to be honest, looks perfectly all right to me. I worry that we've got it wrong, that we're wasting our time and the driver's.
��Anything?' I ask Ken when he jumps down.
��I want to have another look at the scan.'
I stay beside the container while he goes back into the unit. Fish and Chips have long since returned to the office building, Chips in good form because as far as he's concerned it's job done and time for a bit of fun. I check the lorry's digital paperwork again.
My mobile vibrates. I glance at the message. It's Charles saying that Ariel (though he still only refers to her as ��my agent') has read the book and that they're currently talking about it. But he thinks she really likes it. Charles and his issues are inhabiting a world a million miles away from my current concerns. I send a short text saying that I'm at work. My phone pings with a reply, but I don't get to look at it because Ken has returned with a large flashlight. I replace my mobile in the back pocket of my trousers while he concentrates the light on the roof, shining it into the corners. Then he gives a grunt of satisfaction.
��We need cutting equipment,' he says. ��And I'm thinking it's time to call the Garda��.'
Usually the drugs are smuggled in the crates themselves. We've found cocaine in furniture, packed in sofas and chairs, we've found drugs in tyres, in plaster statues and animal feed. (Not obviously in the actual feed itself, or Ireland would have some very chilled-out cattle. In bags of the same size and appearance.)
It's another hour before Ken finally accesses the space in the roof. As he lowers the hatch he's made, we can see the carefully bundled packages of powder. I start taking photos, absorbing the scale of what we've uncovered. By the time we're finished, we've unloaded multiple slabs of what we reckon is cocaine. I feel very proud of the team and our efforts.
The Garda drug squad, who arrived earlier, are also busy taking photos. A female officer goes inside the building to arrest the driver, who may or may not have known what he was transporting along with the crates of machine parts. It's not a good day for him, but it's a great one for us.
��Who's the man!' Ken beams at the senior garda.
��The dog, I believe.' The garda grins. ��Great job, though.'
��Yay our team!' I high-five everyone.
This is going to be an item on the news later.
Obviously I don't post anything about it on social media. But if I did, it would be #LoveMyJob.
We're all totally buzzing when our shift finally ends, and the whole team heads out to celebrate. The pub across the inlet of the bay is busy with locals, but we find a big table and order drinks all round.
��Excellent teamwork from everyone concerned,' I say.
��Here's to us!' Ken lowers his voice to imitate a narrator in a reality programme. ��Keeping our borders secure, one gram at a time.'
The team laughs. We're suckers for watching Border Patrol episodes, although they mostly concentrate on individuals coming through airports with drugs concealed in their luggage or on themselves. I much prefer the more industrial nature of the port, which is an entire ecosystem on its own.
My phone buzzes and I think of Charles's last message. The one I neither read nor replied to. Oh well, he'll know I was too busy to get back to him.
Hey. I hear there was a drugs bust at the port today
It takes a moment before I realise the text is from Steve rather than Charles. I'm not sure I want to answer it. But eventually I do, because I can't believe he knows about it already.
How did you hear that?
Breaking news
Seriously?
Information gets out quickly these days. It's not as if we keep things secret, but if the Garda�� were hoping to locate the actual importer of the drugs, having a news story about today's find probably isn't going to help.
Apparently they've arrested a couple of people who are ��known to the Garda��'
Steve uses the euphemism for career criminals.
That was quick
According to the report it's worth about �5 million
I couldn't say
I knew it would have a high street value, but �5 million is an excellent haul.
You must be pleased
Thrilled
Well done
Thanks
Are you in the pub?
He knows us too well.
Yes. But leaving shortly
I'll be going past. I might see you there
What the hell? I don't actually type this, but I think it. Steve dumped me with weeks to go before our wedding, and now he's saying he'll meet me where I'm having a drink with my colleagues. Plus he called to my house without asking and scared the living daylights out of me. Then he kissed me. We're over. He wanted it that way. So what's he playing at?
I type quickly.
I'm leaving now sorry
How about seeing you at yours?
Am going out
Where?
None of your business!!!!!
Chill out, Izzy. I want to be friends, that's all
When I told Natasha that Steve wanted to be friends, she said that an ex asking to be friends is like a kidnapper asking to keep in touch after they've released you. It made me laugh, but she's right. He broke my heart, for heaven's sake. But this is him all over. He only sees things from his point of view, which in my case seems to be: I didn't want to marry you but I'm quite happy to go out with you. I'm not in love with you but I expect you to be there for me. The truth is that a few weeks ago I'd have been over the moon at hearing from him. Those first days at the White Sands I'd even been wondering how I might get back with him. But now . . . now I have other options.
I look at my phone again and click Charles's message. It's brief and to the point:
Will I see you later?
It's probably too late to reply. When he didn't hear back from me earlier, he'll have found something else to do. Or perhaps he's working on his book again and won't welcome an interruption. Besides, certain as I am that I don't want to see Steve, I'm not sure about Charles either. Although we had a fabulous time at the Shelbourne and an even more fabulous time at his gorgeous house, I'm really uncertain about where this is going. I love being with him, but he's not the sort of person I've ever imagined dating, and I'm pretty sure he'd say the same about me. I wonder if he simply feels obliged to keep thanking me for helping him unlock his writer's block.
I start to tap the keypad.
Sorry. Busy day at port. Couldn't get back to you earlier. I'm free later if you are. X
As I press send, I wish I hadn't added that bit about being free. It sounds a bit needy. I definitely don't want to come across as needy.
I finish my non-alcoholic beer and tell the team I'm going home.
��Stay for another,' says Ken.
��I'd love to, but I've got to go. Might have a hot date tonight.'
��Really?' Katelyn's eyes widen. ��A new man? I'm delighted for you.'
��Early days.'
��Have a great time.'
��Absolutely.' I haul my bag over my shoulder and carry my electric scooter outside. I often use the scooter to get to work, depending on my shift, but I don't like using it when there's a lot of traffic around. It's busy this evening, so I head home on foot. When I get to Bram Stoker Park, I stop to check on Steve's location. He's in Baldoyle, about twenty minutes away. He's obviously decided not to call to the pub after all.
It looks like I'll have the evening to myself unless Charles calls, which is very unlikely. But I don't mind either way.
After all, who needs a man when you've had the best day at work?