Either someone bypassed the system—or the system was compromised. The second was worse.
Nick finally looked over, arms crossed. “We wanted your read before we hit full panic mode and started treating this like the opening act of a Michael Bay movie.”
Zach passed the tablet back. “I’ll take a walk. See it for myself.”
“You’ve been here five minutes.” Nick sighed, but it carried affection, not annoyance.
“Five minutes too long if someone’s probing our perimeter.” Zach adjusted his satchel strap. “Every minute they operate unopposed, they learn our patterns. That’s how insurgents work. Small probes. Test response times. Map the gaps. Then exploit them when it matters.”
David hesitated, exchanging a glance with Nick. “Just be careful. We don’t have redundancy in that zone yet, and cell coverage gets spotty past the maintenance shed. I need to install a repeater.”
“Then we’ll build some redundancy.” Zach was already calculating routes, approach angles, and optimal observation positions. “Tonight. After I do preliminary recon.”
Nick chuckled. “Same old Zach. Never met a problem you didn’t want to solve before dinner.”
Zach didn’t respond. He’d moved from banter into operational mode, the familiar mental shift as intrinsic as breathing. The mission: identify all risks, assess the threat level, develop solutions. Everything else was noise.
He descended the trail without ceremony, boots finding purchase on the sand and gravel comprising the path. His gait remained constant—not hurried, but purposeful. In ranger school, they taught panic was a virus that spread through body language. Move with confidence, and everyone around you stays calm. Move with fear, and chaos follows.
The palm canopy thickened as he moved deeper into the property. Light fractured through the leaves in shifting, dappled patterns that played hell with depth perception. He altered his trajectory to stay in the shadowed sections where his eyes could maintain clarity.
The resort wasn’t open to the public yet, which made this the most exposed window: after the infrastructure was in place butbefore full security protocols were activated. An adversary could exploit this gap.
And Marcus was planning something. He always was.
He crossed onto the utility road wrapping around the back of the property, cataloging deficiencies: an unfinished fence line to his left, leaving a ten-meter gap in the perimeter. A blind spot in the lighting coverage about thirty meters ahead where two lamp posts were incomplete.
Those items should have been finished by now, according to the project timeline David sent him.
Slippage in the construction schedule was normal. But slippage in security infrastructure was a vulnerability, and couldn’t be tolerated with Marcus on the loose.
He frowned, pulling out his phone to make a voice note. The list was already growing.
Somewhere to the north, a generator hummed in a steady diesel rhythm, indicating the solar grid wasn’t carrying the full load yet. Closer, a pair of voices drifted through the foliage, nervous laughter that sounded out of place.
No one should be in this area. The service road was off-limits to non-essential personnel during construction.
Zach tracked the voices until they faded.
If someone were probing defenses, this is where they’d start. The southeast quadrant had natural advantages for an attacker: low visibility, multiple escape routes, minimal foot traffic. Classic soft target indicators.
But soft targets could be hardened. That’s what Zach did—what Nick and David needed him to do. He’d add another camera to this section. Just in case.
A memory flashed through his mind. Tonight was the welcome dinner for the new staff. He’d attend. Show his face. Establish presence.
He’d rather patrol the perimeter, but leadership visibility mattered.Ghost commanders bred ghost soldiers.
Two hours later, his preliminary survey confirmed his worst suspicions—the sensor outages created a seven-minute window during which someone could approach undetected from the water.
Zach made his way to the dining room, plotting which weaknesses to address first.
The murmur of voices flowed from the open doors as he approached. Forty, maybe fifty people inside based on the acoustic volume. He slowed and stepped to the side of the entrance instead of walking straight through it.
Old habits. Observe first. Move second. Die never.
He positioned himself in the doorway’s shadow, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the interior lighting while he ran a quick threat assessment.
Two exits: the main entry where he stood, and kitchen access on the left, marked by a swinging door with a circular window. Windows along the marina wall—large, decorative, not ballistic rated. Breakable if someone wanted fast entry. Or an exit. Structural columns every four meters provided decent cover if things went sideways.
