Final Winter

As the truck crossed into the United States, photo equipment hidden in light poles, highway signs and ornamental planters at this station and so many other border crossings continued their quiet work, documenting every male and female who passed through into a frightened and increasingly paranoid nation.

~ * ~

Imad laughed as they made their way onto the American Interstate 5, heading south. Vladimir felt his hands shake, his arms quiver. How in the name of God had they made it through…?

His voice was low and even. ‘What were you doing back there?’

Imad laughed again, pounding the steering wheel with his fist. ‘I was putting that bitch in her place. Did you see it? I put that bitch right in her place. And her boss came over and backed me up. Oh, the joy, it was so funny!’

Vladimir said, ‘You realize what you did back there? You almost compromised everything. Everything! And all for your stupid boy ego!’

Imad shifted gears as the truck grumbled its way south. He said, ‘You’re overreacting.’

‘Overreacting! That Customs officer was only moments away from having me open that door. And what do you think would have happened after that? Hmm? After she went through the toys and the dolls and the soccer balls, and found the compartment with those canisters. What then?’

Imad turned, grinning. ‘It wasn’t going to happen. You had that SmartSeal there, just like the older man said. The container had already been checked overseas. Right?’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘Ah, but it is a point, my friend. You see, I never knew about the SmartSeal. You never told me. Care to tell me now?’

Vladimir looked around him as he entered America for the second time in less than a week. He said, ‘Part of the arrangement to ease Customs bottlenecks after 9/11. The United States set up overseas Customs offices. They would inspect containers at the point of origin. Seal the doors with an electronic lock and tracing device. Container coming into the United States didn’t have to be reinspected. I had this container inspected a month ago.’

‘Some inspection. How did this happen, without your mystery canisters being discovered?’

‘A hefty bribe to a Customs officer suffering through an opium addiction will work wonders.’

‘But suppose he changed his mind afterwards? Decided to confess all?’

Vladimir said, ‘A boating accident took care of that.’

‘And you didn’t tell me this earlier? About the SmartSeal and the bribed Customs officer? Why?’

‘Because… because I didn’t think you needed to know, that’s why. You just needed to drive. That’s all. Which doesn’t excuse a thing. You could have still jeopardized everything. Suppose that woman’s boss had not come over right then. What would you have done?’

‘Taken care of everything, that’s what.’

‘And how would you have performed this miracle?’

Imad was still smirking as they made their way south. He reached under the seat, pulled out a leather case, tossed it on the seat between them. Vladimir picked up the case, unzippered it, and looked inside. A semi-automatic pistol was in there. Holy shit.

He zippered the bag shut and threw it across the cab, where it bounced off the windshield.

‘Hey!’ Imad protested. ‘What the fuck is your problem?’

‘The problem is that you smuggled a pistol into Canada and then resmuggled it into the United States, you stupid shit — that’s what the problem is.’

‘Didn’t get caught, did I?’

Vladimir felt his breathing quicken. ‘Stupid fool. Worthless pile of shit.’

Imad said, ‘Well, I had a plan, which is more than you had. Shoot that black woman between the eyes and then roll across into the highway. Who could have stopped us?’

Vladimir knew that he could no longer have a reasonable conversation with the boy. He folded his arms, looked out at the Washington landscape. A kilometer or two passed.

‘Well?’ Imad demanded. ‘Why don’t you answer me?’

Vladimir took a breath. ‘Imad, why didn’t you tell me about that? About having a pistol with you?’

Another bout of laughter from the boy. ‘Maybe it’s because I didn’t think you needed to know. Hah. How does that sound?’

No reply. The truck and its cargo continued to speed its way into America.

~ * ~

Twenty miles east of the US Customs crossing station, Dan Umber sat in front of his computer terminal, trying to stifle a yawn as he came close to the end of his shift. He worked for the Department of Homeland Security, and his office was in the basement of an anonymous glass and steel cube that had sprouted up around Redmond after Bill Gates started making some serious change.

All around him in the dimly lit room were waist-high cubicle walls and terminals, just like the one he was sitting in front of. In front of him on the large plasma screen was a collection of faces — brown, white, yellow, red and every color in between, and male and female and a whole bunch of ‘I’m-not-really-sure’.