Cash Landing by James Grippando Page A

tech agents were able to enhance the security camera video, but only up to a point. Not even techies could see through ski masks. At bottom, they were looking for two men of average height and weight. About the only thing the witnesses agreed upon was that they spoke Spanish with an American accent. Even less helpful were the hundreds of calls that had flooded the tip line. A six-figure rewardwas serious motivation, and it didn’t have to be a case of Hatfields versus McCoys for folks to report a “suspicious neighbor” down the street. Law enforcement wheels had been spinning all week, no traction at all. Until Sunday morning.
    The shipping area near Miami River Rapids Mini Park is upriver, closer to the airport and well away from the upscale riverfront development in downtown Miami. Many old, sketchy cargo terminals had been shut down by Homeland Security after 9/11, but commerce continued to flow, some of it as polluted as the river itself. Huge cranes worked around the clock, hoisting mountains of metal containers onto Caribbean-bound freighters. Some carried electronics and other dry goods. Others carried vehicles with the VINs scratched off. Trucks and four-wheel-drive vehicles were particularly in demand, as any Miamian who used to own a Range Rover would attest. Andie wondered about a certain black pickup.
    Andie parked her car along the chain-link fence. Coils of razor wire stretched across the top like a man-eating Slinky. If that weren’t enough to protect the three-story stack of containers on the other side of the fence, the Dobermans might make thieves think twice. Littleford pulled up right beside her. Together they walked toward a white box truck that had been pulled aside and separated from the cargo that was being loaded onto a freighter bound for Jamaica. Lieutenant Watts from MDPD was waiting for them.
    â€œDo you have your search warrant yet?” asked Andie.
    â€œAny minute,” said Watts. “We got the VIN through the windshield and ran a vehicle check. Belongs to an appliance store in West Kendall. It was reported stolen the Monday morning after the MIA heist, when the driver showed up for work and saw that it was gone. My guess is that it was stolen the Saturday night before the heist.”
    â€œSo were a lot of other vehicles. What makes you think this one might have a pickup truck inside it?”
    Watts showed them a sealed evidence bag with a piece of paper inside. “We found a handwritten note tucked under the visor on the driver’s side.”
    â€œYou searched the cab without a warrant?”
    â€œIt’s a stolen vehicle. We can take an inventory.”
    He was technically correct, but when there was time to get a warrant, Andie didn’t like to take chances. “What’s on the note?”
    â€œTime entries. The first one is 1:55 p.m.”
    â€œThat was the scheduled arrival time for flight 462,” said Andie.
    â€œNotice that it’s crossed out,” said Watts. “Someone wrote in 2:08. That’s the actual arrival time. Then you have two more time entries below those. Three forty-five is crossed out and somebody wrote in 3:58. Thirteen minutes later.”
    â€œWhich is exactly how many minutes late the flight was,” said Andie.
    â€œYou got it. My theory is that this second entry—3:45 changed to 3:58—was an estimated time for some kind of rendezvous involving this truck. This box is plenty big to hold an F-150.”
    Andie’s gaze turned toward the truck. The suspension was even between front and rear, no sign of any load in the box. “That pickup probably weighs six thousand pounds. It’s not inside there now, that’s for sure.”
    Littleford had made the same observation. “They could have brought the pickup here in the delivery truck and shipped it on another freighter. One that’s long gone.”
    â€œExactly,” said Watts. “And if I’m right about this,