For the first time that morning, Preston looked afraid.
A phone rang.
Wexler reached for his belt.
He checked the screen.
His face went pale.
He answered.
“Captain Wexler.”
He listened.
His eyes moved toward Adrien.
“Yes.”
Pause.
“Yes, sir.”
Another pause.
“No, sir.”
He lowered the phone.
“Remove the cuffs.”
Dunn hesitated.
“Captain?”
“Now.”
Dunn unlocked them.
Adrien brought his hands forward.
Red marks circled both wrists.
He stood slowly.
Mason reached toward him.
Adrien shook his head.
“I’m fine.”
He brushed dirt from his trousers.
Preston began backing away.
Adrien looked at the phone in Preston’s hand.
“Don’t delete anything.”
Preston stopped.
“What?”
“Your recording is evidence.”
“It’s my phone.”
“Correct.”
Adrien picked up the sealed case.
“And you recorded nearly the entire incident.”
Preston stared at him.
Mason spoke quietly.
“Sir, headquarters is asking whether the presentation should continue.”
Adrien looked toward Gate Seven.
“No.”
Preston’s face sharpened.
“You can’t cancel a three-hundred-million-dollar contract over this.”
Adrien looked at him.
“I haven’t.”
Relief flickered across Preston’s face.
Adrien continued.
“I’m suspending the evaluation because someone created unauthorized administrative credentials inside your security network.”
The relief vanished.
Captain Wexler looked toward Preston.
Preston shook his head.
“That’s impossible.”
Adrien opened the case.
Inside were printed access logs, photographs, secure storage drives, network diagrams, and documentation gathered during preliminary audits.
He removed one page.
“Gate Seven. Four seventeen this morning.”
Preston said nothing.
“Unregistered administrative override.”
“That could be a software error.”
“Possibly.”
Adrien removed another.
“Three days ago.”
Another.
“Twenty-two days ago.”
Another.
“Six weeks ago.”
The marina had become completely silent again.
Adrien turned to Mason.
“Secure the electronic control room.”
Preston stepped forward.
“You can’t just seize our systems.”
Adrien looked at him.
“I’m not seizing anything.”
He handed Mason a document.
“I’m preserving data under the authority Harrington Maritime agreed to when it entered the federal evaluation process.”
Sterling Harrington arrived twenty minutes later.
He came quickly enough that he had forgotten his tie.
At sixty-two, Sterling still carried himself like a man who believed most problems could be solved by entering the room.
He saw Preston.
The police.
The official vehicles.
Adrien.
Then the opened case.
“What happened?”
Preston began talking.
Sterling raised a hand.
“Not you.”
He looked at Adrien.
“You’re Mr. Cole?”
“Yes.”
Sterling forced a professional smile.