As the weather gradually warmed, a cargo ship slowly entered Manhattan's harbor. Its cargo was a forty-foot standard shipping container with a maximum payload of 26,500 kilograms. Once the ship docked, N'Jadaka could not wait to jump ashore. After so long at sea, he desperately missed solid ground. Due to the special nature of the cargo, he had not gone to a dockside bar for drinks or sought out prostitutes to relax with like the sailors had after docking. He had to guard the cargo the entire time. Besides, the two expressionless men who had accompanied him would not permit him to wander around, because he was cargo too.
One of the two men had a scar running from his throat to his eyebrow, splitting his cloudy white eye in two. The other had short hair and a cold expression, occasionally taking out his pistol to wipe it down. N'Jadaka knew they were there to watch him, but he did not know their true purpose. The City of Immortals' orders had merely instructed him to go to New York and told him that he would receive further orders upon arrival.
Yet the journey had not been without incident. Aside from the coast guard's attempts to crack down on smuggling, several inexplicable murders had occurred aboard the ship. Once, the cook had been found dead in his own pot. By the time he was discovered, his head had already been boiled beyond recognition. Another time, a sailor fishing at sea had reeled in an arm. The tattoo on it revealed that it belonged to the first mate. They later found the first mate dismembered in the restroom, his head nowhere to be found. Fortunately, the captain was an experienced smuggler and had barely managed to complete the voyage. Anyone else would