Julian pulled his battered Olympus 35mm inspection camera from his canvas kit.
Click-whir. Click-whir.
The mechanical shutter clicked twice in rapid succession. The lens reflected the neon glow of the twelve-foot glass map. He framed the buff index card, the red quota numbers, and the exemption line for the Uptown Spire District.
“Make sure the serial numbers are legible,” Lin Mei said, holding her ultraviolet beam steady against the glass. “Under court rules, if the stamp serial is blurred by lens glare, the defense can claim image tampering.”
“The aperture is set to f-eight,” Julian answered. “Every letter on this card will be sharp enough to read from ten feet away.”
“Got the negatives,” Julian said, slipping the camera into his pocket. “That’s permanent photographic proof.”
“Now open that book,” Elena urged, standing guard at the mezzanine door with her crowbar. “We have five minutes before Vane’s turntable sequence starts.”
Julian turned to the heavy mahogany desk.
