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“So, this Saudi Businessman is the middleman?” Wilson threw out. “I wish we could get his ID. That would help give a possible direction.”
Cooper doubted Shepherd could get the name out of Mason, but he sent Shepherd a text anyway. He requested Shepherd try and he provided their reasons behind wanting it.
Their discussion ended soon after, and Wilson laid his head back to catch a nap. He woke as the aircraft descended.
Later, Garcia, Michael Cooper, and Wilson reported to the facility where Bianchi worked. Garcia’s job assignment was in the computer center, where he could investigate Bianchi’s online activities at work. Wilson was positioned as a laborer so he could poke around to see if anything illegal was coming through the port, and Michael was in the same division as Bianchi. He’d have eyes on him all day.
It was nearly the end of the shift. Wilson’s foreman, Aiello, was a guy who’d worked at the port for nearly twenty years. He claimed to know the ins and outs of everything port related. Wilson was given easy, short assignments that he completed quickly. It wasn’t brain surgery. The one thing he did notice was that Aiello disappeared a lot.
Wilson came around the corner of the metal shipping container. There were four men about ten feet in front of him, huddled to the side of the container. They all stuffed something into their pockets as soon as they saw him. It looked like cash to Wilson, large handfuls of cash. Three of them moved away. Aiello moved towards him.
“Look, you didn’t just see anything,” Aiello said.
“I honestly didn’t,” Wilson said with a shrug.
“Smart man,” Aiello said.
“No, I really didn’t, and I don’t care what that was about,” Wilson said.
“What are you doing on this side of the floor?” Aiello asked.
“That skinny dude with the square glasses sent me over to find you to assign me my next job,” Wilson said.
“Okay, yeah, I can use you over here,” Aiello said. He directed Wilson to help a group of other workers stack containers at the far end of the facility.
Even though all three men wore their comms, Wilson didn’t report the incident. He’d wait until after work to discuss it with the team. The rest of the shift was uneventful.
After the end of the shift, Wilson hung back, watching the rest of the crew clock out to see who did what and to try to get an ID on the three men he saw with Aiello and the cash. After he’d clocked out, Wilson began walking towards the nearest public transportation stop, which was the designated place he’d be picked up by Garcia, who drove the car. From there, they’d circle and pick up Michael, who walked in the opposite direction upon clocking out, hopefully unseen by Bianchi or any of the workers.
Garcia pulled up to the curb beside him. As Wilson opened the door, he glanced around. Behind the wheel of a car severalback from Garcia, Wilson saw Aiello behind the wheel. He was watching them. Wilson knew Aiello had left the building ahead of him as he’d watched him clock out. Aiello should have been long gone by that point. Had Aiello waited and followed him?
“I think my foreman may be following me,” he told Garcia when he got into the car. “Blue Toyota a few cars back.”
“Let’s see if he is,” Garcia said. He pulled into another parking lot and pulled a U-turn, heading back towards the main employee parking lot.
As they passed Aiello’s car, Wilson kept his face straight ahead, but through a side glance watched Aiello’s head follow them as they passed him. “He just gave himself whiplash,” Wilson said. Wilson told Garcia about what he’d witnessed regarding the money.
“You got IDs on those three other guys?” Garcia asked.
Wilson shot him an outraged look. “Please,” he said. “Of course, I do. Got pics of their timecards for you to rundown.”
“What do you think the cash was about?”
“No clue. But they scattered as soon as they saw me.”
Wilson kept a look out for Aiello’s car as they circled back to the pickup location for Michael. There was no sign of him all the way back to the hotel, which was a ten-minute drive. There, the team had a short meeting to go over the events overnight.
“How much cash are we talking?” Doc asked.
“I didn’t see the face on the bills, but each man had a big wad wrapped in a rubber band. And they didn’t like that I’d seen them, either,” Wilson said.
“Do you really think your foreman was following you?” Madison asked.
“It sure looked like it. He had a clear lane to merge into when Garcia picked me up, but he didn’t. He stayed where he was, watching whose car I was getting into.”
“The money could have been for anything,” Cooper said. “It may or may not be related to Bianchi. Make a point of staying out of that guy’s way for now and let’s focus on Bianchi. We can always revisit the cash angle and become a thorn in this guy’s side later.”
“Keep your head on the swivel on the shop floor, Wilson,” Garcia said. “Ports and dockworkers are traditionally mafia strongholds. And you saw something you shouldn’t have.”