The Customs Copy
In which the gerbils' craftsmanship is admired...
The Customs Office was prepared for a routine verification hearing.
Three representatives from Talmere sat at the conference table with an air of cautious confidence. At the head of the table the Verification Officer prepared to open the folder.
MyrtleLion entered the room accompanied by Octavia Briefcase, @Hedgehogforshort, @AngleofRepose, and several gerbils. The Talmere representatives rose to their feet immediately. Myrtle paused. She still wasn’t entirely comfortable with people doing that. After a few uncomfortable seconds, the representatives sat down again.
At the far end of the table, the verification officer opened the submission package.
The folder was magnificent. Its cover was embossed. The section dividers were colour coded. Every tab was perfectly aligned. The contents page included cross references, indexing marks and what appeared to be a supplementary indexing system for the indexing system.
Graceful visibly relaxed. “I told them the tabs would make a good first impression,” she whispered.
“They do,” said Glamour quietly.
The verification officer nodded with obvious approval and opened the executive summary. She reviewed the contents page, checked the section structure and examined the formatting standards.
Then she turned another page. Her expression changed as she removed a glossy brochure advertising luxury yachts. She checked the tab. “Supporting Documentation,” she read.
A second brochure followed. Then tide tables and a seafood restaurant menu. Then a tourist leaflet with bite marks and a chocolate stain.
The confidence on the Talmere side of the table began to weaken. “There may have been a filing error,” one representative offered.
The verification officer continued searching. Surely, everyone assumed, the actual documentation would appear eventually. It did not. Instead, after a final search, she extracted the last item from the folder and stared at it for several seconds before placing it carefully in the centre of the table. It was a laminated napkin.
On one side, in untidy handwriting, somebody had written:
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The lamination quality was exceptional. Graceful straightened slightly. “That was Glockenspiel’s work.”
The verification officer closed the folder. “I am unable to verify a shipment whose official customs submission contains no customs documentation.” She folded her hands together and looked around the table. “Verification is suspended pending clarification.”
After a brief silence she added, “Does anyone present possess independent evidence regarding the contents or valuation of this shipment?”
Octavia opened her briefcase. Several gerbils immediately became alert.
“No,” said Angle.
“Nothing has happened yet,” said Graceful.
“But you’re thinking about it,” said Angle.
Every gerbil froze and tiny noses lifted as Octavia placed the foil-wrapped brick on the table.
The verification officer frowned. “What is that?”
Octavia peeled back the foil to expose the elegant gold leaf lettering on the dark green textured paper.
“Oh,” whispered Glamour.
The officer removed one packet. Vesper Gold Monastery Helianthus.
One of the Talmere representatives squinted at it. “What is that? Birdseed?”
A collective noise of outrage emerged from the gerbils. Nobody claimed responsibility.
“How much does this retail?” asked the officer.
“About £250 a packet,” said Hedgehog.
The officer frowned. “What’s that in dollars?”
“About $340.”
The officer looked at the brick. “Forty packets?” Hedgehog nodded and said, “Fifty bricks per crate. There were six crates.”
The officer reached for a calculator and clicked for a few seconds. She stared at the result. “Just over $4 million?” Nobody contradicted her.
Octavia withdrew a folder from her briefcase and removed a copy of the customs declaration from it.
“There’s another folder?” asked Gosie. “We copied it,” said Garland.
“Why?” asked Gosie. Garland shrugged, “It’s a folder.”
Octavia placed the declaration beside the seed brick. “My team recovered this declaration and the seed packets from the yacht transporting the consignment,” she said.
Glacier began inching across the table toward the seed brick. Angle moved it six inches away. She leaned further. Angle moved it again. A small paw reached out. Angle slapped it away without looking. “Please,” said Glacier quietly. “No.”
The verification officer looked at the declaration. “Low-grade birdseed: declared value: $4,700.”
One of the Talmere representatives immediately shook her head, “You cannot prove that came from the consignment.”
“Correct,” said Octavia.
The representative smiled.
“I can, however, demonstrate sufficient grounds for inspection.”
The smile disappeared.
The verification officer looked from the declaration to the seed brick. “I am authorising a physical inspection of the consignment.”
The bonded warehouse proved disappointingly straightforward.
The verification officer selected the sunflower seed crate first. The declaration described low-grade birdseed. The crate contained Vesper Gold Monastery Helianthus.
Nobody looked surprised. The verification officer made a note and selected another crate.
Glacier attempted to approach the sunflower seed evidence. Angle intercepted her without looking.
All of the declarations undervalued the contents of the crates. Reproduction artwork proved to be originals. Miscellaneous salvage concealed antiquities. By the fourth crate nobody was talking about verification any more. The verification officer compared the paperwork against her notes and closed the folder.
She looked around the warehouse. “I have seen sufficient evidence. The pattern is clear. The declarations consistently understate the value of the goods. I am opening a customs investigation and seizing the entire consignment.”
Customs officers immediately began applying seals to the crates.
One of the Talmere representatives cleared her throat and addressed MyrtleLion, “Naturally we’ll need to review the actions of the shipping contractor.”
“The freight declarations originated outside Talmere,” another representative added quickly.
A third was consulting purchase records, “Clearly somebody supplied inaccurate documentation.”
Myrtle listened politely. The representatives seemed encouraged. “We take compliance extremely seriously and I’m sure you appreciate the challenges involved in external procurement.”
Octavia watched the exchange without speaking.
At the far end of the warehouse, @Boiledbeetle appeared carrying two Tunnock’s Teacakes.
“There you are,” said Hedgehog. “Where have you been?”
“Listening.” Boily pointed toward the administrative offices above the warehouse floor. “They were talking about Myrtle. One of them said you expedited Aurelia by handling certification personally.”
Octavia looked at the Talmere representatives. “And they’ve lost Aurelia now that the cargo has been seized. But they’re already preparing somebody else to take the blame.”
“Who?” asked Angle, retrieving Glacier again.
“The smugglers,” said Octavia. She reached into her bag and withdrew the laminated napkin. She studied it for a moment.
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Then she smiled. “I think we just found where to start.”
https://myrtlelion.substack.com/p/the-customs-copy