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freighter from Nicaragua was scheduled to be unloaded any minute.
    “What is the problem?”
    “Customs, sir.”
    “What in the name of God are you talking about? That’s impossible!”
    There was no response from other end.
    “Did you hear me?”
    “Yes, boss.”
    “Then take care of it. That’s what you get paid for.”
    Angered, the man swiveled his chair around to face the port. The Criminal Investigation Department was obviously behind this. There could be no other explanation. Everyone in Customs was in The Board’s pocket. The others needed to be appraised of this new development immediately. If despite being warned, Palmer continued acting like some kind of maverick, then so be it. Obviously the warning had been too gentle.
     

SEVEN
     
     
     
    L auren swung open the door to her editor’s office to find him on the phone with the habitual cigarette hanging from his mouth. Fanning the smoke away from her face, she sat and impatiently waited for him to end his call. Noticing his ashtray was spilling over, she dumped the mountain of butts into the trashcan under his desk.
    “What’s up?” Peter Landsdale asked hanging up.
    “The detective who gave me the big lead on the port was killed.”
    Peter frowned. “He was killed? When?”
    “I don’t know yet. They just found his body.”
    Peter’s frown deepened. “This is the third murder of a law enforcement officer since the year began. It’s a bad situation.”
    “Even more so when you consider who may have been behind Wallace’s murder.”
    Peter’s eyes narrowed on Lauren. “Oh? You have some idea who was behind it?”
    “Yes and no. Look, Peter, I planned to wait until I had more information before telling you what I learned from Detective Wallace. But I think I should tell you everything now. This could have more serious ramifications than I suspected.”
    Lauren took a deep breath and began. “I think Detective Wallace was onto something big. He was pretty sure cocaine was being transshipped through the port. He suspected Indies Shipping was involved.”
    “Indies Shipping? But that’s the Matthews’ company.”
    “That was exactly my reaction. You could have blown me over with a feather when he dropped that one on me.”
    “Was this an allegation on the detective’s part, or did he have concrete evidence?”
    “It was an allegation for all practical purposes, but let me go on.”
    Lauren began playing idly with a paperclip as she continued, “A couple months ago, I received a call from someone who claimed he had important information for me. He was calling from a pay phone, he said, and didn’t have much time to talk. Naturally I became suspicious. I asked what kind of information he had for me, but he refused to say on the phone. He asked if I could meet him somewhere so we could talk. I wavered a bit at first. After all, he could have been some sicko. On the other hand, it might have been a big story. I finally decided I would meet him somewhere safe. I suggested the old pier and he agreed. That he allowed me to choose the meeting place made me a bit less suspicious. Besides, my instincts told me the guy was genuine. When I got to the pier at the arranged time, there wasn’t another soul in sight. He was standing at the end of the pier by himself watching as I got out of my car. I immediately became nervous. Anything could have happened to me and no one would ever have known. I was debating whether to call it a day and leave, but then I had a gun in my jacket pocket, so I decided it was worth the risk.”
    “I never knew you carried a gun,” Peter interjected with surprise.
    “Well, as it turned out, I really didn’t need it on that particular occasion,” Lauren smiled crookedly. “While I’m walking over to him with my hand placed discreetly in my pocket he gives me an amused look and says, ‘There’s no need for that precaution, Miss Anderson, I’m with the Criminal Investigation Department.’ Then he flashes his