Every great story starts with a moment of intrigue—a question that pulls you in and refuses to let go. My novel, Double Exposure, is no exception. From the very first lines, I wanted to challenge the way you see the world, the way you think about security, deception, and the fine line between perception and reality.
At its core, Double Exposure follows Reed Sawyer, a professional photographer with a secret life as an operative. His camera is more than a tool for capturing images—it’s his greatest weapon, his best disguise. Photography grants him access to places others can’t go, and in his line of work, access is everything.
I knew from the beginning that I wanted the prologue to set the tone, not just for the character but for the entire novel. It had to be sharp, immersive, and thought-provoking. So, I wrote it with one question in mind: What if the best way to smuggle something past security wasn’t to hide it, but to make it invisible?
Prolog
You can sneak a prohibited item through airport security easier than you think.
It’s not about gadgets or technology. It’s about beating people – their instincts, their assumptions, their patterns. Security loves predictability. Break the rhythm, shift the focus and you create your own loophole.
Confidence is the key. No hesitation, no second looks. They don’t screen for contraband; they screen for fear. A confident man with a camera in his hand isn’t a threat – he’s a professional, a journalist, an artist. The world opens up to people like him. Smile at the agent, crack a joke. Let them see what they expect: another traveler trying to make their gate before the boarding call.
But distraction – that’s where the magic happens.
The shiny advertisement cards are scattered at the entrance of security: “FREE COFFEE AT GATE C13.” Simple, enticing. Who wouldn’t grab one? The promise of coffee during a morning rush. But no one thinks about the layers in that cardstock. No one thinks about the tiny bit of lead embedded between the fibers – a little trick of the trade. When scanned, those cards throw a shadow.
Now thirty passengers are holding identical cards. Some are in carry-ons, others in purses, all going through the checkpoint at the same time. The machine beeps nonstop, panic sets in and security scrambles to figure out what’s going on. It’s perfect chaos – and perfectly harmless. At least for them.
And while they’re sorting out the mess, the real magic happens. A disassembled weapon hidden in the layers of a camera bag. Tripods, lenses, filters, cables – nothing out of the ordinary for a photographer. Not worth a second look. Cameras are the ultimate cover. Expected. Familiar. Invisible.
That’s the trick: disappear in plain sight. Don’t hide the act – hide the intent.
It’s not about the tools; it’s about the illusion. And when done right, an illusion becomes reality.
This prologue is more than just an opening scene. It’s a statement. A promise to the reader that Double Exposure isn’t going to be a typical spy thriller. It’s about deception in the most elegant form—blending in so well that no one even thinks to question you. It’s about perception, control, and knowing that the greatest trick isn’t just pulling off a con, but making the world believe it was never a con at all.
Reed Sawyer isn’t just a spy. He’s an artist in his own right, mastering the illusion of normalcy while operating in a world where trust is a liability. His camera isn’t just a piece of equipment—it’s his identity, his mask, his best chance at survival.
This is just the beginning of Double Exposure. If you’re intrigued by the art of misdirection and the world of spies hiding in plain sight, then you’re in for one awesome ride. Stick around—I’ll be sharing more insights into my writing process, character development, and what inspired this story in the coming weeks.
What do you think? Does this prologue make you see airport security in a new light? Let me know in the comments—I’d love to hear your thoughts!