Page 128 of The Fourth Option
“What kind of crime?”
“A kid robbed a house two blocks in from Poland Avenue.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“It was a few hours ago, before sunrise. We have officers canvassing the streets up there. Lots of places on this old base to hide.”
“Not here.” The man gestured to security cameras covering his warehouses.
Walker noticed the split images on a flat-screen TV on the far wall.
“Mind if I take a statement?” Walker asked.
“I’m pretty busy here.” He took a breath. “All right. Let’s make it quick, though.”
The trailer was simple: a desk, computer, sofa, two chairs, and two filing cabinets. Walker took in the disorganized state of the desktop piled with papers, three used coffee mugs, and aSaltwater Sportsmanmagazine opened and folded back on an article featuring marlin. Beyond it, on a card table, he spotted a radio on a charger and a pair of clipboards. The interior walls were paneled in faux wood.
Walker flipped open a pad and hit the plunger on the end of his pen.
“Name, sir?”
“Charles Babineaux,” the man said, perched on the edge of his desk. “Where’d you park?”
“Outside the gate, searching the perimeter. Your role here, sir?”
“I’m the owner and president of this company. Dorado Freight. Can I see that ID again?”
Walker scribbled the name down and handed over the wallet. Babineaux inspected it for a few seconds and handed it back. To further sell it, Walker took off his coat so Babineaux could see the Glock. “You mind if I ask what the company does?”
“We offload freight and send it out to customer warehouses in the area.”
“What kind of freight?”
Babineaux shrugged. “The kind that comes on ships up and down the river. Why is this necessary?”
“A lot of containers here. An ideal spot to hide. Is all your freight through containers?”
“That’s the industry standard. Twenty-, forty-footers, occasional high boxes.”
“Are most of them in the yard out there empty or full?”
“Empty. We drop ’em on trucks and off they go.”
“Are the empty ones locked?”
“No.”
“Was someone here this morning between two and four?”
“No.”
Walker angled his head at the split-screen monitor. “Mind if I review the tapes?”
Babineaux lifted his iPhone from his desk and opened his security camera app. “If they had caught movement, I’d have a little clip right here. I also would have gotten a notice on my phone. As you can see, the last movement was last night at eleven, when we shut down.”
Walker scribbled the detail down in his notebook and flipped it closed. “Okay. Thank you for your time. I’ll transpose this and email it to you. Can I get that email?”
After a brief hesitation, Babineaux offered his company email address. Walker wrote it down, then asked, “You mind if I take a look around the property?”
