Epaulard

Epaulard stood erect on the main pier, a figure of implacable rectitude silhouetted against the port's industrial skyline. As he oversaw the unloading of heavy cargo, his eyes darted sideways toward the sea with a mixture of suppressed hatred and paranoid vigilance. He held a notebook between his fingers, his right hand moving with mechanical speed, tracing notes and intricate diagrams. His gait was a back-and-forth of precise steps. Several men, mostly from the marine industry, greeted him respectfully as they passed, but he barely offered them a nod.