eyebrow at Joe. "I think we've found our fort."
Chapter 10
"BUT I'D LIKE to know what kind of presents these Forte Brothers are getting," Joe said. He looked around for a crowbar or anything to wedge the crate open.
Just then Shauna's whistle sounded from outside.
Joe dashed for the doorway, then back. "There're the lights of a car in the distance, and it seems to be heading this way."
Frank took off running for a corner of the warehouse, where he'd spotted a forklift truck. "Joe, start looking through those storage bays. We need a crate about the size and shape of this one."
While Joe darted down the alleyways of the bays, Frank turned on the engine of the forklift. All this frantic action took place in nearly absolute silence. Joe's footfalls were smothered by the rubber soles of his running shoes. And the forklift had an electric motor, which only gave off a low hum as Frank maneuvered it to the crate.
Frank lined up the blades of the forklift with the openings in the wooden skid under the box. It took him only a moment of fumbling to figure out how to lift the fork up so he could move the crate away. He quickly got the knack, and soon was trundling the crate to the back of a storage bay where Joe stood. Joe was beckoning frantically and pointing down the bay. Halfway down the alley was a crate nearly identical to the one Frank had just moved.
Frank dropped off his cargo and maneuvered in to pick up the new box. He whispered to Joe, "Go and take the papers off the crate— carefully. We don't want a torn packing slip making them suspicious when we put those papers on the new crate."
With the new crate secured on the forklift, Frank spun and drove out to the spot where the original crate had been. The car must be at the warehouse by now, and he hoped Shauna had sense enough to hide.
He carefully lowered the crate, disengaged the fork, and backed up. Joe ran over to the crate and smoothed on the papers he'd taken from the original crate.
Frank drove quickly to put the truck back where he'd found it. Just as he was jumping from the driver's seat, he heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside and the honk of a horn.
The office door opened, and Frank dove for cover behind the forklift.
Joe was out in the open, standing next to the crate. A good twenty feet of open space separated him from the nearest storage bay. Realizing he'd be seen if he made a run for it, he ducked down behind the crate.
The warehouse manager and Mr. Singh, as he was called, stepped out of the office. "These must be my people now," Singh said.
Joe held his breath. Would they notice anything odd? The forklift wasn't exactly where it had been. Neither was the crate. But the two men hardly gave the area a second glance.
Joe let out an inaudible sigh of relief as he heard their footsteps move away from him. He peeked around the side of the crate to see the backs of the two men heading for the warehouse door.
A van stood just outside, its doors open. This was the only chance he'd get. Rising to his feet, Joe darted noiselessly for the nearest bay—and safety. In seconds he had worked his way down an alley and found a nice pile of boxes to hide behind.
Frank had slipped from behind the forklift to find a hiding spot, too. He watched as Singh, the warehouse manager, and three other guys approached the crate in the center of the floor. The manager pawed around in his soiled jacket, finally coming up with a pen. "Sign here and here, and the shipment's yours."
He sighed. "Must be tough for the relatives to wait for it to come by boat. Pretty sad."
"Sadness is our business," Singh replied. "And it was a monetary decision for them. Air freight is so very expensive."
The manager was still shaking his head as he walked over to the forklift. He turned it on, then expertly whipped it around, bringing it over to the crate. "Better move your van to the loading dock," he said. "It'll be easier."
The manager then drove the forklift and its burden
Chapter 10
"BUT I'D LIKE to know what kind of presents these Forte Brothers are getting," Joe said. He looked around for a crowbar or anything to wedge the crate open.
Just then Shauna's whistle sounded from outside.
Joe dashed for the doorway, then back. "There're the lights of a car in the distance, and it seems to be heading this way."
Frank took off running for a corner of the warehouse, where he'd spotted a forklift truck. "Joe, start looking through those storage bays. We need a crate about the size and shape of this one."
While Joe darted down the alleyways of the bays, Frank turned on the engine of the forklift. All this frantic action took place in nearly absolute silence. Joe's footfalls were smothered by the rubber soles of his running shoes. And the forklift had an electric motor, which only gave off a low hum as Frank maneuvered it to the crate.
Frank lined up the blades of the forklift with the openings in the wooden skid under the box. It took him only a moment of fumbling to figure out how to lift the fork up so he could move the crate away. He quickly got the knack, and soon was trundling the crate to the back of a storage bay where Joe stood. Joe was beckoning frantically and pointing down the bay. Halfway down the alley was a crate nearly identical to the one Frank had just moved.
Frank dropped off his cargo and maneuvered in to pick up the new box. He whispered to Joe, "Go and take the papers off the crate— carefully. We don't want a torn packing slip making them suspicious when we put those papers on the new crate."
With the new crate secured on the forklift, Frank spun and drove out to the spot where the original crate had been. The car must be at the warehouse by now, and he hoped Shauna had sense enough to hide.
He carefully lowered the crate, disengaged the fork, and backed up. Joe ran over to the crate and smoothed on the papers he'd taken from the original crate.
Frank drove quickly to put the truck back where he'd found it. Just as he was jumping from the driver's seat, he heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside and the honk of a horn.
The office door opened, and Frank dove for cover behind the forklift.
Joe was out in the open, standing next to the crate. A good twenty feet of open space separated him from the nearest storage bay. Realizing he'd be seen if he made a run for it, he ducked down behind the crate.
The warehouse manager and Mr. Singh, as he was called, stepped out of the office. "These must be my people now," Singh said.
Joe held his breath. Would they notice anything odd? The forklift wasn't exactly where it had been. Neither was the crate. But the two men hardly gave the area a second glance.
Joe let out an inaudible sigh of relief as he heard their footsteps move away from him. He peeked around the side of the crate to see the backs of the two men heading for the warehouse door.
A van stood just outside, its doors open. This was the only chance he'd get. Rising to his feet, Joe darted noiselessly for the nearest bay—and safety. In seconds he had worked his way down an alley and found a nice pile of boxes to hide behind.
Frank had slipped from behind the forklift to find a hiding spot, too. He watched as Singh, the warehouse manager, and three other guys approached the crate in the center of the floor. The manager pawed around in his soiled jacket, finally coming up with a pen. "Sign here and here, and the shipment's yours."
He sighed. "Must be tough for the relatives to wait for it to come by boat. Pretty sad."
"Sadness is our business," Singh replied. "And it was a monetary decision for them. Air freight is so very expensive."
The manager was still shaking his head as he walked over to the forklift. He turned it on, then expertly whipped it around, bringing it over to the crate. "Better move your van to the loading dock," he said. "It'll be easier."
The manager then drove the forklift and its burden
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