Then, just as she was about to move on from another locked unit near the port-side bulkhead, she froze. Faint but unmistakable—there was a soft knocking sound from behind the steel wall. Three slow taps, a pause, then two more. Katherine pressed her ear against the cold surface. Her pulse spiked.
“Ahmed?” she whispered again. She heard the knocking sound again. Her heart clenched. She noticed the big padlock on the container door. She turned to her officers with a nod. “This is it. Let’s break this lock, but do it quietly.”
One of the officers retrieved bolt cutters from his pack. They timed the break to the rise of a nearby generator’s hum. With a swift, practiced motion, the cutter bit through the lock. It snapped free, and Katherine caught it before it hit the ground, heart pounding in her throat.
She eased the door open just enough to slip inside. The air was thick with heat and stale breath. Inside, people sat shoulder to shoulder, eyes wide with disbelief. A man stepped forward—gaunt, weary, but unmistakable. “Who are you?” he asked. Katherine met his gaze. “I’m the one who found your message on the recorder.”