Page 92 of Black Reign

No personal cameras.

No drones.

No livestreams.

No forgotten phone tucked into somebody’s evening bag because they think rules apply primarily to other people.

Every guest receives an analog credential at intake.

Every name has been verified.

Every driver screened.

Every vendor checked twice.

The cellular dead zone inside the ceremony perimeter is intentional.

The wedding of one of professional basketball’s newest stars will exist tonight only in the memories of the people invited to witness it.

And in the handful of official images Hannah approved in advance.

Nothing else.

That was the promise.

Vesper presents a unique problem.

Naturally.

She refuses to give me a real name.

So several weeks ago I sent an encrypted credential through NULL that permits one unidentified female guest into the property using a rotating authentication phrase and a physical token waiting at the outer checkpoint.

I hated every second of creating it.

I still hate it.

It violates nearly every security protocol I’ve written.

Which is why the authorization can only be confirmed by me.

Not my staff.

Not Kane.

Not the electronic system.

Me.

If she appears, I will know first.

If.

That word has been ruining my morning.

Drew pushes away from the column.

“Maybe she’s Sergei.”