Smuggler

- I’m a smuggler.

The customs officer asked:

- I see… And what are you bringing in?

- A bit of everything, really… Drugs, diamonds, large quantities of liquor, some live animals and a couple of stolen paintings…

The customs officer looked at the papers carefully.

- And what are you planning on doing with these items?

- I have a contact who will buy them from me.

The officer looked at the machine: clearly, the man was telling the truth.

- Well, your story checks out. I am required by law to let you know that while everything you told me is confidential if you repeat it outside of this room it may be used against you. In the current situation, you would end up in jail for a period of up to four years, depending on the goods and quantities. These goods would be confiscated and the animals you mentioned would likely be put in quarantine and end up with the wildlife preservation institution. Do you understand?

- I do. It’s not my first time.

- Thank you, sir, have a good day.

- You as well.

Johnston walked out of the room and into a transportation capsule, certain that his luggage would meet him at his house later on.

Ever since the very first interplanetary terrorist attacks, the safety measures had been revamped.

Now, a customs officer would ask questions in private and would only be able to disclose that information if public safety were at risk.

A machine would ensure that the person would be telling the truth.

Another team would be looking for illegal goods, but there were ways of dealing with that problem.

The luggage did consist mostly of smuggled items, which was an amazing cover-up.

Soon, however, Johnston would be committing murder.