Luca pressed the screen and put the phone to his ear.

“Sophia,” Luca said.

“We are coming in.”

He listened for a moment, his face expressionless.

“She says the gates are open for us,” Luca said, lowering the phone.

“But only for one car.”

Marcus nodded to the driver.

“Go in,” Marcus said.

The SUV slowed down as we approached the heavy iron gates of the shipping terminal.

A single guard stood in the small booth, his face hidden by a thick winter hat.

He waved us through, the metal gates creaking open slowly.

The ground here was covered in a thick layer of unplowed snow.

The car bounced over the frozen ruts, moving deeper into the maze of shipping containers.

Huge metal boxes were stacked three high, painting long shadows across the snow.

The driver stopped the car in the center of a wide, open yard.

Ahead of us stood a small brick office building, its windows dark except for a single light on the second floor.

A black sedan was parked near the entrance, its exhaust pipe sending a plume of white steam into the cold air.