‘It’s very relaxed here,’ Ariadne tells Jules.‘No shoes, swim shorts for dinner, whatever you want, angel.Let your hair down.’She winks at him, tone denoting affection.Lachlan thinks she looks awful;aged, grey and ill.
He forces a polite tone.‘May I speak with your head of security, Ma’am?’
‘You mean Graham?’she asks, walking into a huge, glittering bedroom on the top floor, balcony doors open facing the nearby coastline.‘He’s my chief of staff.I’ll introduce you.’
Lachlan wants to say,no, not chief of staff, head of security, but he’s starting to suspect there isn’t one.He trails quietly after Jules, calculating and mapping.Jules’ room is next door to Savannah’s.Roman is on the other side.
Savannah’s mother twitters on about some big beach party they’re having, telling Jules that he simplymustswim in the sea by night because it’s so warm.Lachlan wonders if there is any language in the world he could use to convince Alistair Penhalyx that this is a mistake.This island is nowhere near safe enough,flat out fucking dangerous, in fact.
No language exists.Lachlan will be ignored, he knows that.
But after the tour, he’s introduced to a man named Graham Kessler, late sixties, full beard, thorough tan.He shakes Lachlan’s hand firmly.
‘I want to discuss security with you,’ Lachlan begins without preamble.Ariadne takes Jules and Savannah elsewhere.
‘Yes, of course,’ Kessler says, affable and friendly.‘But you have nothing to worry about.It’s a private airspace and we have our own coastguard patrol.’
‘The terrain is flat, and it’s three-sixty beach.’
Kessler seems bemused.‘Is that… bad?’He drops ice into a glass.‘As I said, we own the air and the seas.it’s not even visible in public satellite imagery or accessible by navigation.Sable Key is completely off grid.’
That gives Lachlan precisely zero comfort.
‘Are you aware of the issue with sightlines?’
‘No one could get close enough to—’
‘Julian’s room, for example, is vulnerable to multi-directional exposure, including maritime, with no meaningful standoff.’
‘What do you mean bystandoff?’
‘Distance between the target and potential firing positions.Right now there’s nothing forcing separation.No terrain, no structural barriers.If a hostile wants line of sight on Julian, they’ve got it.’
Kessler smiles and seems vaguely lost.‘Yes,’ he says slowly, ‘but as I said, the island is impenetrable.’
Lachlan moves on.‘How secure is the structure?’
‘The mansion is built to an extremely high standard,’ Kessler explains, more confident in this lane.‘Poured concrete and stone, no timber.All internal supports are fire-rated.The glass is treated.Drink?’
‘No, thank you.What about safe rooms?’
‘You mean panic rooms?’Lachlan nods.‘Two primary shelter suites were built beneath the main house.Reinforced concrete with an independent HVAC, emergency power, medical supplies.They’re rated to withstand hurricanes.Each one has communications, food, water and sanitation.You could keep a dozen people comfortable down there for days.’
‘Generators?’
‘In the sub-level.’
It’s something, Lachlan supposes.
‘Can I see them?’
Kessler still seems pleasantly confused by Lachlan’s questions.‘Have a drink, sport.Catch some rays.This place is off limits to the world, and off the charts beautiful.You can relax.’
Lachlan will not be doing any of that.
‘What about staff?Can I see vetting material?’
Kessler walks away, chuckling to himself.‘We keep a friendly atmosphere.The staff are practically family.’He grabs a bottle of champagne as he leaves.‘Welcome to Sable Key.’
