On the third night, the wind in the port was stronger than usual.
Leah stood between the shadows of a pile of containers and looked at the bright area cut by the searchlight in front of her from afar.
This is not the dock where tourists will come.
There are no restaurants, no rows of colorful boats, only towering boxes, occasional trailers, and old flags blown to pieces by the sea breeze.
She wore a dark coat, the shirt inside was buttoned a little tighter than usual, and the high heels were changed to soft-soled boots. The hair is tied up, and the walkie-talkie is hidden in the collar.
"Your position." English with an Italian accent came from the headphones, "Did you see the target?"
This is an informant of the local police, code-named "Marco".
"I don't know yet." She glanced in the distance, "I only saw a group of people unloading."
The group of people moved sharply, like workers on the assembly line, but they seemed too quiet - no one joked, no one smoked, and all the attention was overfocused on the box number and the list.
This is not an ordinary night shift.
"Are you sure he will show up tonight?" She lowered her voice.
"His people are already over there."
There was a little vague excitement at the end of the earphone. "If you can confirm his presence, we have reason to apply for the next step."
The word "next move" sounds too familiar to her.
It often means that once the target is confirmed, the scene no longer belongs to her, but to a group of people wearing bulletproof vests and holding long spears.
Her task is to read as much as possible before that.
From the shadow, a black car drove slowly.
The lights were turned off in the last few meters, and the tires pressed over the rails, making a short metal friction sound.
Open the car door.
Carlo was the first to get off the bus.
She recognized him - the one who always stood half a step behind Luca's side. His smile was a little green, but his eyes were a little colder than the expression on his face.
He was wearing a simple black jacket, and his trousers were rolled up a little, revealing his thin but strong ankles. That kind of thinness is not malnutrition, but like the agility that has been practiced in a narrow space for many years.
He raised his hand and made a gesture.
The unloader immediately adjusted the formation and moved one of the boxes to one side separately.
"Who do you see?" Ask in the headset.
"His deputy." She said, "Carlo Wien."
"What about him?"
"It hasn't appeared yet."
She moved a step slightly, stuck to the edge of another container, and changed the angle in the shadow.
The wind blew from the sea, which made my ears a little numb.
She pulled her collar a little higher, and her fingers touched the small steel clip hidden inside - the headphone cable passed through there.
"Ma said that he would come in person." He lowered his voice over there, "Be careful."
"I will."
When she finished saying this, another car stopped in the distance.
It's a dark gray car, low-key, but with a good texture.
She didn't need to get close, she already recognized the model of the car - which is what he often uses.
When the car door opened, the first thing she saw was a trouser leg.
The iron is very flat, and the material is more shiny than ordinary trousers. The shoes are cleanly polished leather shoes.
Then, Luca got up from the car.
He didn't have a scarf. He only wore a black coat with an open neckline and a dark gray turtleneck sweater inside. The lines were close to his body, making him look taller, sharper and more difficult to ignore.
The light shone down from above, outlining the profile of his side face.
He raised his hand to block the wind and took the opportunity to wipe his hair back.
She is very familiar with that finger - slender and powerful, with a shallow cocoon at the knus.
Yesterday, it stayed in a small part of her neck for a second.
"He's coming." She whispered.
The other end of the headset was quiet for two seconds.
"Very good." Marco's voice was lower than just now, "A little closer and see what they are talking about."
"I will try my best."
She knew that she couldn't stay where she was any longer.
That shadow is very suitable for the day, but now it may be swept by an inadvertent look.
She moved forward along a row of boxes, walking very lightly, deliberately avoiding any gravel that might make a noise.
When she got to the third box, she stopped, stuck to the edge of the tin, and looked at the bright area through the gap of the box.
Luca walked to the box that was moved away separately and looked down at the document next to it.
Someone handed him a pen.
He didn't answer.
"Open it."
He only said two words.
Carlo glanced at him and then waved his hand.
The iron lock was cut open, and the door of the box was pulled open by several people together. A smell of wooden boxes with the smell of fashion floated out.
The inside is covered with a rectangular thing with white cloth.
That's not ordinary goods.
The white cloth was gently lifted in the wind, revealing a corner of the oil painting frame.
"Works of art." Leah said in her heart.
She saw it clearly - that was the style she had only seen yesterday, Vincent's unique heavy brushstrokes and irregular colors.
"Can you see it clearly?" Ask in the headset.
"It may be the work of Vincent Hale." She said, "The batch that has not been registered."
The other head whistled in a low voice.
"If we can deduct this box--"
"You can't move now." She interrupted, "There is no reason enough."
"You have already seen who is here."
"What you need is evidence, not a misjudgment." She said calmly, "This is my job."
They don't talk anymore.
There was a dull vibration from the ground - another car approached.
This time, it came in from the other side.
The car lights were not turned off, and they looked at the eyes of the group of people unloading from afar. They subconsciously raised their hands to cover it.
Luca turned around and his eyes were slightly fixed.
The car did not drive directly to the front, but stopped more than 20 meters away from them.
Open the car door.
The two men came down first, like bodyguards, with thick shoulders, bulging waistlines, and obviously guns inside.
The third person who got out of the car made Lia frown gently.
That's a face she've seen in the file - a section chief of the local police station.
He was wearing a not-formal jacket, with two buttons on his shirt, and his trousers were a little wrinkled, as if he had been temporarily called out of the house.
But his eyes are very clear.
"People in the bureau." She whispered.
"Who?" Marco on the other end of the earphone also seemed to see it. "Damn it, how did he--"
"Be quiet." She reminded.
She is not far from the front now, and any rustling sound that should not appear will become trouble.
The chief of the police station came to Luca with a reluctant smile on his face.
"It's so late, I'm still busy."
His "busy" is very heavy.
The corners of Luca's mouth hooked slightly.
"I'm busy with official duties." He said lightly, "You too."
They shook hands.
At that moment, the polite smile between the two people didn't reach the bottom of their eyes.
"You know," the section chief lowered his voice. "It's very sensitive to the port recently."
"All my goods are on the list." Luca said, "You can check it at will."
The chief's eyes swept silently over the newly opened painting box.
"I don't doubt you." He smiled and said, "I just need something to explain to the superiors."
"For example?" Luca asked.
"For example, a little sincerity."
That word sounds almost greasy at night.
Carlo stood aside with a tight face.
Luca was not in a hurry to show impatience. He looked at the section chief and was silent for a second or two. He turned his head and nodded to one of his subordinates.
The subordinates walked to another car and brought out an inconspicuous black suitcase from the trunk.
The suitcase looks ordinary, but the weight is obviously extraordinary - the man's muscles tense when he lifted it.
The section chief glanced at the box, and his eyes quickly became soft.
"You shouldn't have come in person." Luca suddenly said.
"You know, sometimes it's safer to come in person than to let someone else come."
"For whom?"
"It's the same for you and me." The section chief said.
Their conversation is enough to constitute a "clue of corruption", but far from enough to become iron evidence that "can be arrested immediately".
Lia knows this.
She also knows that now, she is the closest outside observer to the deal.
"Did you hear that?" She asked the headphones very lightly, "Your colleague is receiving gifts."
Marco was silent for a moment.
"I know this kind of thing." He lowered his voice, "But I don't know it's him."
"Now you know."
"It means that neither of us can believe it." He said, "The British."
She didn't answer the complaint.
In front, the section chief has asked his men to carry the suitcase to the trunk of his car.
"I hope the sea breeze will not be too strong tonight." He said, "In this way, everyone won't catch a cold."
That's the most obvious code.
"It's time for you to go home and have a rest." Luca said lightly, "This point, appearing on the dock, is not suitable for people like you."
"What about you?"
"This is my job."
The section chief smiled, patted him on the shoulder, turned around and walked to the car.
At this moment, something that was not in the script happened.
Suddenly, a harsh siren sounded in the distance.
It's not a ship in the port, but a sharper and more urgent police siren than that.
Everyone was stunned for a moment.
The chief's face changed in an instant.
"Who called someone?"
He turned his head to look at Luca. His eyes were no longer friendly, and there was even a little panic.
"It's not me." Luca said in a low voice.
"Who is that?"
The sound of the siren is getting closer and closer.
A few seconds later, a blue and red light lit up on the other side of the port entrance.
That's not the convoy of the local police station.
It's another group of people.
In the headphones, Marco said a bad word.
"Someone steals the credit." He said, "Damn, they didn't tell me."
Leah reacted quickly.
The "other team" who suddenly appeared at this time could only be--
People from another department, even from another country.
And she is obviously not on the official notification list of this operation.
"You must leave there immediately." Marco said quickly, "If they see you--"
"Shut up." She said.
This time, instead of reminding the other party not to make a sound, she needs to keep her thinking clear.
The situation in the court was disrupted in an instant.
Luca's men instinctively moved their steps to form a circle of protection, circling him and the box in the middle.
The section chief hurriedly shouted at his car: "Stop the box! Put things--"
He didn't finish his words.
The first car had rushed in from a distance, and the brakes were harsh. The car door was pulled open almost before it stopped, and a group of heavily armed people poured out.
There is no obvious logo on their uniforms.
The helmet covers most of the face, and only the jawline can be seen.
But that kind of movement speed and tacit understanding is a well-trained team at first glance.
"Who did it?" Marco still gritted his teeth in the headphones, "This is not our rhythm."
Leah didn't answer.
She knows the answer.
This is the rhythm of "above".
And "above" is probably not in this city.
Someone raised the loudspeaker and shouted in standard English: "Everyone put down your weapons! Don't move!"
They speak English.
This shows that the original goal of this operation is not only locked in the local area.
Luca didn't move.
Several people under his men subconsciously put their hands behind their waists, and then quickly lifted them up and slowly raised them to their heads.
In just a dozen seconds, the scene changed from a "gray deal" to an "armed confrontation".
Leah knew that she should evacuate immediately and turn to the other side to avoid being involved.
As soon as she took a step, a slate under her feet, which had been loosened at some point, moved slightly.
The small sliding sound was extremely obvious to her.
What's worse, her arm touched the tin next to her at the same moment, making a muffled sound.
It's not big, but it's enough to attract some attention.
Not far away, a bodyguard in black standing on the side suddenly turned his head.
His eyes swept in the direction where she was.
Her body pressed against the box was tense, so that she could integrate herself with the iron as much as possible.
"There is movement over there!" The man shouted in Italian.
A few hands were immediately turned on.
The strong light flashed across her face.
She subconsciously closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Marco's low-pressed curse came from the headphones: "Oh no."
Just then, a voice sounded from the shadow on her left.
"Lower your head."
It's a man's whisper, very close.
She instinctively closed her shoulders.
A hand came from behind and firmly clasped her wrist. The force was not heavy, but it had a direction that could not be resisted.
She was almost dragged back one step away from the angle that was originally swept by the handlight.
At the same time, the other hand pulled open a small slit between her and the box behind her.
It was originally just a gap left by two boxes piled up unevenly, but now it can accommodate two people to squeeze in.
She was pulled into the gap by those hands.
The iron was cold and hot between her back and his chest.
The space is too narrow.
She had to turn slightly sideways so that her breathing could not be completely squeezed.
He covered her almost whole body behind her, with one hand on the iron on the side of her head, and the other hand still clasped her wrist to avoid her imbalance.
The light of the flashlight passed through the gap and shone a white light.
The distance between them was compressed to almost non-existent.
She could feel his chest ups and downs on her back.
It can also be felt that his breathing is faster than it looks on the surface.
"You shouldn't be here." He said very softly in her ear.
The voice was low and hoarse, with the lingering warmth of running over just now.
"You too." She replied in the same soft voice.
He gave her an almost inhearable smile.
"This is my job."
"This is my case."
They talked in a cramped space, and each other's lips almost touched each other's ears.
That kind of distance is more dangerous than any bright approach.
She could smell his body temperature mixed with cold air and a little sweat.
Just now in the port wind, his coat was wrapped in a layer of sea smell. Now he is trapped in a narrow space, warmed by someone's body temperature, and the smell is a little heavier.
Outside, the bodyguard is still shouting.
"There is... I just saw it clearly--"
The light of the handlight swept back again.
This time, it is almost facing the gap.
Leah instinctively turned her head to avoid it.
But he exerted a little force at that moment.
The hand holding her wrist went down, forcing her whole body to be a little more close to the front, almost her whole body into his arms.
His chin rubbed a small piece of hair on the top of her head.
In order for both of them to avoid the angle that might be exposed to the gap, he had to turn his head, and the tip of his nose almost pressed against her ear.
At that moment, their breaths were almost entangled together.
"Don't move."
He said in her ear.
She felt the heat brought by the two words sweep directly over her earlobe.
The sensitive nerve of the cochlea was suddenly ignited and went all the way down the side of the neck, as if it had been gently stroked.
She bit her teeth.
It's not because of fear, but because of this extremely untimely sensory amplification.
The light outside swept over for the third time, stopped again, and finally moved away.
"No one."
The bodyguard frowned less than two meters away from them, "Maybe it's the wind."
"Concentrate!" Someone whispered, "Now is not the time to chase the cat."
Their footsteps gradually moved away.
Only then did Lia slowly exhale a breath of holding her breath.
His hand didn't let go immediately.
"When did you start being my bodyguard?" She asked in a low voice.
"It started when you appeared here."
"I have my own evacuation route."
"The step just now is obviously not counted."
His voice was close to her ear, so soft that it was almost like a vibration.
She felt that if she stayed longer, she would not be found out, and she would lose her posture because of the heat in this narrow space.
"You can let me go." She reminded.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because if you relax your legs now, you will step on the rails." He said, "Then make a sound."
Only then did she realize that his hand clasped her wrist was actually under her hand - his palm, together with her hand, against the unstable edge of the slate directly below her.
As long as he let go, she is likely to make the slate ring again because of the unstable center of gravity.
"Did you calculate it in advance?" She asked.
"Habit."
He took a deep breath slowly, as if he was adjusting his breathing.
"You're really..." She paused, "Consides."
"I'm saving your career, diplomat." He whispered, "Save myself by the way."
There was another round of shouting outside.
The heavily armed people had completely controlled the scene, and several of Luca's men were pushed to the ground with their hands on their heads.
The section chief stood aside with an extremely ugly face, trying to pretend to be "shocked and innocent".
"Do you know them?" Leah asked.
"Who?"
"This group of people came to grab the scene in the middle of the night."
"It's not my person."
"I know."
"That's not his." He gently nodded and looked in the direction, "That section chief."
"You know very well who is 'your people'."
"I'm also very good at distinguishing, who doesn't."
They leaned against the narrow tin wall and the box to talk.
She could feel the slight lift and fall of his chest every time she breathed.
He could feel the imperceptible tension and relaxation of her shoulders.
"You shouldn't be here for me." He suddenly said.
"You shouldn't delay the evacuation for me." She returned.
"I'm not for you." He said softly, "I don't like important things being taken away by others in front of my eyes."
"Am I an important thing?"
"The case is counted."
"What you just said is 'thing'."
"I don't always speak so accurately."
"I noticed it."
She could almost imagine his slightly self-deprecating smile behind her at the moment.
On the other side, someone shouted in English: "We have received information that there are illegal smuggled works of art traded here! Everyone, stay where you are!"
Leah squinted her eyes.
This is the routine that she is good at.
"Your boss is here." Luca said.
"It's not my direct supervisor." She replied, "They didn't inform me."
"That means you don't have a good relationship with them recently."
"It shows that what they want is an 'action scene'."
The action scene will really look good.
Boxes of seized paintings, a group of handcuffed "suspects", and some recorded corruption details - enough for several reports to lie on the table for a while.
But what is really important is that the underground chain of the work of art from the studio to the port to other countries is often not fully exposed in this scene.
"Aren't you leaving?" He asked.
"If you go now, it will be more conspicuous."
"Just stay in my arms like this?"
"Don't use such a statement." She warned in a low voice.
He smiled.
"In fact," he deliberately lowered his voice, "now you are indeed leaning on my side."
She didn't refute.
Because that's the truth.
In the narrow space, half of her body was indeed leaning against him, and the other half leaning against the tin in front of her.
The position of his hand in her hand almost seemed to "fix" her at a point that was enough to avoid all sight.
"When are you going to let go?" She asked.
"Wait for them to leave."
"Are you sure they will leave so fast?"
"They didn't come to arrest me." His tone was very certain, "They are here to take photos, write reports, and step on someone by the way."
"Which one?"
"That section chief."
Someone outside shouted, "What is this? Why isn't it registered?"
Someone else said, "Take it away."
The sound of footsteps, the sound of iron locks and the sound of pulling are mixed together.
After about five minutes, the siren sounded again.
This time, it was the sound of leaving.
She could see the back of the group of people withdrawing from the dock from the back of the box - neat, orderly and amazingly efficient.
The rest is the scene of chaos.
The people of Luca began to disperse quietly.
Someone has already driven to the other side.
"Now?" She asked.
He slowly took the hand on her hand away and took half a step back to make some space.
Suddenly, there was one less support, and her legs were slightly weak at that moment.
She immediately stabilized herself and didn't let the imbalance appear.
But he obviously felt it.
"You just said that you have your own evacuation route." He whispered behind her, "It seems that this kind of time is not included."
She suppressed the impatience of being bumped into by him.
"Thank you for your help." She said, "But this time, we are even."
"It's a draw?"
"The art gallery that day." She looked back at him and said, "I didn't call anyone to arrest you."
He caught her sight.
In the dark, his eyes were not as sharp as just now, and he looked a little more patiently.
"You must settle all these things?"
"This is a work habit."
"Then I'll write it down," he leaned slightly. "I still owe you something."
Just as she was about to say something, a very low voice suddenly came from the headphones: "Are you still alive?"
It's Marco.
"Temporarily." She said.
"They just asked who was at the scene." Marco lowered his voice and said, "I said I didn't see you."
"Thank you."
"Don't make me regret it."
There was a brief noise from the headphones, and then it was completely quiet.
She took off the headphones, pulled the wire out of the collar, and put it in her pocket.
"You are not alone." Luca said.
" Neither do you."
"Who do you believe?"
"Now?" She raised her eyebrows, "No one for the time being."
He looked at her and suddenly smiled.
"We both agree on one thing."
"That's really rare."
The dock at night began to restore a kind of distorted "normality".
In this shadow, two people stood together briefly, as if they had been temporarily moved out of their respective camps and became "on the same side" in a strange but real way.
But they all know that this kind of side by side is only temporary.
After leaving this gap, they will still return to their respective positions--
She has to write a report, and he has to deal with everything that is seen tonight.
"What will you write tonight?" He suddenly asked.
"About whom?"
"About me."
She thought for a main.
"Do you want to see the official version," she said, "or the less official one?"
"I'm more interested in things that you are less official."
Instead of following his words, she said calmly:
"I will write that you appeared where you shouldn't have appeared and done something that shouldn't have been seen."
"It sounds fair."
"But--" She paused, "I will also write that you dragged me into a worse hiding place at a bad time."
"You don't like it?"
"I don't like being forced to lean so close."
"You can avoid it earlier." He whispered, "For example, in the cafe that day."
She briefly met his eyes for two seconds.
This time, she chose not to answer.
"Will you write this in the report?" He asked, "You didn't dodge."
"This paragraph," she said, "I will omit it."
"Omission does not mean non-existent."
"I know."
She turned sideways and retreated from the gap to a wider position.
As soon as the wind blew, it instantly blew away the heat in that small closed space.
She felt the cold in the port at night again.
"Where are you going now?" He asked.
"Go back to work."
"Write your report?"
"Yes."
"In that case," he nodded. "I'm going back to work, too."
"Do your kind of 'work'?"
"Erase all the traces that should not be left."
When he said this sentence, his tone was understated, as if the definition of "trace" included not only the box, the account book, the monitoring, but also the breathing and temperature that were too close for the few minutes just now.
"Good evening, diplomat."
"Good evening, Mr. Rosano."
They said "good night" for the first time in a really dangerous scene.
It's not like a polite farewell in the ordinary sense, but more like a tacit understanding--
We both know that after tonight, they will master much more things for each other than they are willing to admit.
Including, once the other party gets too close, will you really dodge?