32. The Search
The Search
His men immediately froze in place. The shock of being raided by the police caught them off guard; and the hangar was overflowing with weapons.
That was until Amir clapped his hands. The spell broke.
The men quickly started prepping the area by hiding what they could while others took up weapons and hid behind large crates.
The men were ready for business. And war; they would gladly give their lives for Amir.
And he knew this all too well. He was willing to discard them just as easily.
The dimly lit hangar fell silent. Breathless.
Then, suddenly, another loud bang on the hangar door sent them scurrying once more.
Amir, angered by their outrageous demands, headed straight for the front doors of the hangar.
He handed the bag with the hard drive to one of his men, who quickly disappeared into the jet, closing the door behind him as he went.
“Look busy,” Amir said to his men and Nazim’s group. The doors parted as he arrived at the front of the hangar, wearing a smile fit for a newscast.
Three vehicles were parked in front of the hangar when it fully opened.
And parked horizontally in front of them was an armored truck.
Standing on a railing and holding onto a handle was special agent Sarfati.
She jumped down and handed the loudspeaker to one of her men.
He placed it on the ground beside him and raised his rifle once more towards Amir.
He smirked, then turned his attention to her.
Special agent Sarfati’s other men closed in and approached from behind; their weapons trained on the men inside.
Amir’s men appeared busy. But never strayed too far from their weapons, which were poorly hidden under stacks of leather or upholstery within boxes and crates.
Several rifle butts remained exposed in some corners; they couldn’t get to those quickly enough.
“You came for a search? May I ask what you are looking for?” Amir said.
“I’m Special Agent Sarfati and I’m looking for stolen property,” Special Agent Sarfati said, stepping inside the hangar confidently. “Of the highest importance.”
“Feel free to look around,” Amir said, stretching his arms wide. He walked to the closest crate and tapped it. “I’ve got nothing to hide, but —.”
At that moment, he dug deep into the crate and pulled out a roll of high-quality leather for upholstery. “The best leather and materials for upholstery,” Amir said, caressing the leather like a newborn.
Special Agent Sarfati walked over and glanced inside the crate. It was full of items used in upholstery. From machines to leather and strings. All European.
“I import the best-quality goods from Europe to America and build many products here,” Amir said. He carefully placed the roll of leather back. “I am no thief.”
Special Agent Sarfati nodded and looked at the parked jet in the center of the hangar.
Some men had stopped moving about and were lounging near boxes and crates, some partially obstructed as if behind cover.
Special Agent Sarfati didn’t say a word, but she gave Amir a scowl; her eyes tracked his lips as he spoke.
And her fake smile soon transformed into a mellow mush which Amir found pleasing.
Special Agent Sarfati carefully looked at each one of the men; all appeared to be foreign.
Amir’s cargo was not in the manifest or the airport database; this might be the cause of the search or, at the very least, their excuse, he thought.
He incorporated the shell company recently, with little other information publicly available, which is another red flag; it reeked of a business front to the feds.
“You have an accent. French, I presume?” Special Agent Sarfati said.
“Yes! I hail from Paris,” Amir said excitedly.
“You’re not from Paris. Your French dialect is different. It’s North African.”
“Ah! You’re correct. Not many people in this country know of my birthplace. I come from Algeria by way of Paris,” Amir said. Belle looked around and nodded.
“You’ve come a long way. Your business has done well,” Special Agent Sarfati said.
She went further in, followed closely by several of her men, and passed several crates.
Amir trailed behind the group; his men eagerly waiting for Amir to command them to strike.
But Amir is cautious; he signaled to them covertly to relax.
Special Agent Sarfati continued searching the crates and studied Amir’s men.
“Well?” Amir said after completing a lap around the hangar. “You never showed me the search warrant. I may not be a citizen of this country, but I believe you must show me this, yes?”
Special Agent Sarfati looked at Amir with the same scowl, except this time, a smirk escaped her. Amir could tell she had a great dislike for him. Maybe it was his clothes or the way he spoke. His condescending tone, or perhaps his air of elitism.
“Here,” she replied, handing him a folded white paper.
Nazim stood nearby, and Ahmed approached with interest. Omar sat on a box by a crate, across from a special agent.
And Salim watched from a distance, his hand brushing the stock of a poorly concealed Kalashnikov rifle.
Special Agent Sarfati looked at each one and moved on without issue.
Until she reached Nazim. She looked into his eyes and froze for a moment.
“This paper is empty,” Amir said, turning it to her. The white sheet of paper didn’t have a single letter on it. “Is this some joke? Who are you?”
Amir was growing angrier by the second. And his men, who were leisurely sitting and watching, were now standing uneasily by the crates and boxes. Am I being robbed? Ran through Amir’s mind at that moment.
“You come here. Show me no identification, give me this blank document, and look at my inventory? Who sent you? Have you come to rob me?” Amir said, his voice rising in anger.
Special Agent Sarfati took a step back and opened her coat, revealing her badge and gun.
“I can assure you, sir, that I have the proper approval to be here. I must have grabbed the wrong document,” replied Special Agent Sarfati with a smirk.
But nothing seemed out of place. Every crate searched was filled to the brim with upholstery.
The boxes too. And there were far too many to search them all properly with a handful of men.
Special Agent Sarfati paced from crate to crate, haphazardly pulling out items and tossing them on the ground; Amir watched silently as she continued her desperate search.
When she arrived at the last accessible crate, Special Agent Sarfati didn’t even bother to look inside.
At that moment, Amir understood her playtime was up.
“We’re done here,” Special Agent Sarfati said defeatedly as she headed for the exit.
She walked around the jet plane, bypassed several of his men, and reached the front empty-handed and with clenched fists.
Amir felt a sense of relief and knew well that any prolonged search or shutdown of the airport could lead to complaints or litigation.
The airport must resume operations soon, which meant he could leave.
Special Agent Sarfati left the hangar with her men.
As the door closed, she looked inside once more and saw Amir standing resolutely by the entrance, with the same wild smile that greeted her when she arrived.