Reay Jespersen

Johann was the go-to man for anything that had to be transported. He took on the neutral stance of his motherland in his work, keeping him in business and, indeed, alive.
He had seen and shipped many things in his day: a shot man with one briefcase handcuffed to himself and another full of money offered for immediate transportation, crates with faded swastikas on them, and a book that faintly glowed.
He’d seen and shipped many things, but when the men in black wheeled aboard a cryogenic chamber with a frozen alien inside, he knew he’d never see everything.