Kim looked up from the radar. “Sir?”
He thought of the shipper in Kaohsiung, the one who had loaded that container. A ghost now. And the consignee in Jakarta, claiming $480,000 for air . A perfect crime. And the only person left holding the bag was a captain with a Wan Hai telex in his hand.
“Mr. Kim,” Tzeo said quietly to his first mate. “We’re not going to Surabaya.” wan hai telex
For now.
“Wan Hai has frozen us. A surveyor is coming. They’ll cut our seals, open the container, and find nothing but air. Then Wan Hai will bill us for the air, plus damages, plus the surveyor’s coffee.” Kim looked up from the radar
Outside, the sea was calm. But somewhere in Taipei, a clerk was typing a new telex. There was always another telex. This was Wan Hai’s world. Tzeo just sailed in it.
Tzeo smiled for the first time in a week. “The Wan Hai telex says we’re free.” And the consignee in Jakarta, claiming $480,000 for air
It was short. Wan Hai telexes always were. Their reputation preceded them: cold, precise, and absolute. FM: WAN HAI LINES, TAIPEI RE: B/L NO. WHKK-8872 / 40FT HC ‘DREAMS’ CARGO DISCREPANCY. SEAL INTACT. INTERNAL CONTENT: 2,000 CTNS EMPTY. CONSIGNEE CLAIMS USD 480,000. VESSEL HELD LIABLE. DO NOT PROCEED. AWAIT SURVEYOR. - WAN HAI TELEX Tzeo read it three times. The air in the bridge grew thick.