24
The faux Victorian, gas street lamps looked good, but struggled to illuminate. Visibility was further occluded as a harbour mist thickened, shrouding the courtyard and Nakka’s warehouse, which suited the team of men, dressed all in black and gathered outside the big gates. It was as they had been informed, a fortress. However, the weak points were not the shabby gates that looked like a good huff and a puff would do them in, but the side perimeter walls, where they entered the harbour waters, for at low tide you could step over the wall at the tapered ends and wade back to the wharf edge of the backyard. There was then, just a chain-link fence with toy town razor wire atop, a doddle for a professional assault team with wire cutters. Three men, two trained for the breaking and entering
