“Yes.”
Preston reached toward the case.
Adrien moved it behind his leg.
“Don’t.”
Preston stopped.
The single word contained no anger.
But something in Adrien’s face made him hesitate.
For perhaps two seconds.
Then pride recovered.
“You’re trespassing in a restricted marina taking pictures of security equipment.”
“I’m authorized to be here.”
“By who?”
“You don’t have clearance for that answer.”
Preston laughed loudly.
Guests were beginning to arrive.
Men in expensive jackets.
Women carrying invitation folders.
Executives from logistics companies.
Insurance representatives.
Local officials.
Preston knew many of them.
And now they were watching.
That mattered to him more than anything else.
“Let me guess,” Preston said. “You’re some secret inspector nobody was told about.”
Adrien disconnected the diagnostic reader.
“Yes.”
The simplicity of the answer caused a few people to laugh.
Preston smiled.
“You should have gone bigger. Secret agent, maybe.”
Adrien slipped the device into his pocket.
“I recommend you stop interfering.”
“Or what?”
“The evaluation can be suspended.”
Preston’s smile disappeared.
“What evaluation?”
Adrien did not answer.
That frightened Preston more than he wanted to admit.
Harrington Maritime had several major reviews under way.
Some were routine.
One was not.
The company had spent years pursuing a federal maritime security contract that could be worth more than three hundred million dollars over its initial term.
Only a small group of executives knew that an unannounced evaluator might appear before the formal presentation.
Preston had been told almost nothing about that possibility.
His father had only said the evaluator would be discreet.
Surely this man was not him.
Preston looked again at Adrien’s clothes.
His shoes.
His rented car visible beyond the gate.
No entourage.
No security detail.
No expensive watch.
Preston made the mistake that would shape everything that followed.
He trusted his assumption more than the evidence in front of him.
“You’re leaving.”
“No.”
Preston stepped closer.
“This is private property.”
Adrien pointed toward the reader on the gate.
“My access was authenticated.”
“That can be revoked.”
“Not by you.”
Preston’s jaw tightened.
“What exactly do you think my name means around here?”
Adrien looked at him for a long moment.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether the system works properly when your name isn’t enough.”
Preston stared.
Adrien walked away.
By seven fifteen, the marina had become crowded.
Servers moved trays between tables.
Television crews set up equipment near the conference pavilion.
Luxury vehicles filled the reserved parking spaces.
Adrien moved through all of it almost invisibly.
He inspected camera placements.
Emergency exits.
Electronic locks.
Network cabinets.
Badge readers.
He spoke to maintenance workers instead of executives whenever possible.
Workers usually knew where systems actually failed.
At Gate Four, a maintenance technician quietly admitted that the reader sometimes accepted outdated credentials.
At the southern pier, Adrien found two cameras pointed several degrees away from the areas specified in the security plan.
At Gate Seven, he found something far more serious.
Another administrative override.
This one occurred three days earlier.
Again, no user identity.
Adrien photographed the log.
Then he opened the black case just enough to remove a sealed evidence envelope.
He placed a printed copy of the record inside.
A voice came from behind him.
“I told you to leave.”