“Why are you asking about that slip?” Marcus asked, his tone shifting from sleepy to guarded.

“Because there is contraband on that boat,” Adrian said. “And a woman who might be in danger. I need you to order a port hold. Do not let that vessel leave the slip.”

“I can’t do that, Adrian,” Marcus said.

“Why not?” Adrian demanded. “You have the authority to halt any suspicious departure.”

“Not this one,” Marcus said. “The clearance papers for that vessel were pushed through an hour ago. They bypassed the standard customs queue entirely.”

My heart sank.

“Who authorized it?” I asked, leaning closer to the phone.

Marcus paused. “Who is that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Adrian said. “Who signed the clearance, Marcus?”

A long sigh came through the speaker.

“It was Julian Vale,” Marcus said. “He filed a priority diplomatic waiver through the Vale Cultural Foundation. He claimed the cargo was a collection of registered state gifts headed for a private exhibition in Europe. The paperwork is airtight, Adrian. I can’t touch it.”

Adrian’s jaw clenched so hard a small muscle twitched in his cheek.