Finn pulled up the exam interface on his secondary monitor. He’d hacked the CBR’s practice environment years ago—knew every question, every trick image, every poorly translated buoy question designed to fail foreigners and stressed-out executives.
Or stop.
Then Finn’s screen flickered.
On the exam screen, Van der Heijden was stuck on a collision regulation: Power-driven vessel A sees vessel B to starboard. Who gives way? Vaarbewijs4all
“Meneer Van der Heijden,” he said, loud enough for the proctor to hear, “this is Finn de Vries from Vaarbewijs4all. You’re being fed answers. I’m ending this now. Tell the exam supervisor everything, or I will.”
She wasn’t looking at the proctors. She was looking up. Directly into the lens.
“Who is this?”
“You’re not here to sail, meneer. You’re here to point at a screen. I’m the captain. You’re the autopilot.”
“Someone who knows that a man who cheats for a living still has a conscience. Prove me right, captain. Or prove me wrong—but I promise, your son’s school fees won’t be your biggest problem tomorrow.”
Van der Heijden’s mouse clicked. Next question. And the next. Twelve minutes in, the CEO was almost laughing with relief. Finn pulled up the exam interface on his secondary monitor
Tonight’s client was a problem. Meneer Van der Heijden, CEO of a logistics firm, had paid for the Premium Plus package: two cameras, a heartbeat monitor bypass, and a direct line to Finn’s ear. The exam was in twenty minutes. Van der Heijden was already sweating through his Musto sailing shirt.
Not the exam feed—the storage unit’s security camera. He had four cameras hidden in the fake ceiling tiles, watching the proctors who watched the candidates. But now the feed showed something else: a woman in a dark raincoat, standing exactly where Finn was supposed to be alone.