Sanya parked her scooter near the side entrance of the warehouse complex just after midnight. The courier bag felt heavy on her shoulder as she walked toward the office door. The lights inside were off. She knocked twice, then tried the handle. Locked. A printed notice taped to the glass said the night supervisor had left early and the next shift started at six. She cursed under her breath and checked her phone. No signal this far from the main road.

The loading bay lights were still on. Four men in faded blue overalls stood near a stack of wooden pallets, finishing the last of the evening’s work. One of them noticed her first. He was tall, broad across the shoulders, with a thick moustache and a cigarette hanging from his lip. He nudged the man beside him. The other three turned. They looked tired but alert, the kind of men who had spent years shifting crates in the dark.