Chapter 3 - THE WRONG VILLAIN
Martin took the handheld from the manager before David could stop him.
"Executive credential doesn't mean executive user."
David held out his hand. "Give it back."
Martin did.
"Keys get cloned. Vendor tunnels get compromised. We know that."
"We also know JX-417 is ours."
Martin's eyes dropped to Malik's boarding pass.
Something flickered across his face.
Gone in half a second.
"That's impossible."
Malik looked between them. "You know that number?"
Martin crouched. "It's just an internal code, champ. Doesn't mean you did anything wrong."
David watched how quickly he answered.
Catherine unlocked her tablet again. "The order wasn't tagged as a passenger-service issue."
Lena Park, the second Meridian executive, stepped closer. "What was it tagged as?"
Catherine found the system event the sender had failed to erase.
PRIORITY OPS OVERRIDE - CABIN POSITION 2A.
David read it twice.
"Cabin position."
Not Malik.
The seat.
Malik heard it too. "So they didn't care who I was?"
Martin answered before David could.
"Maybe they cared where you were sitting."
David turned to him.
Martin lifted both hands. "I'm saying what the screen says."
A metallic click came from beneath Malik's shoes.
Everyone stopped.
Malik lifted his feet.
The click came again when the seat shifted.
David dropped to one knee.
A narrow floor-access panel sat under the forward edge of 2A.
Three screws were dull.
One was bright silver.
Fresh.
Malik pointed. "The maintenance guy was down there."
David looked up. "What maintenance guy?"
"Before boarding. Blue coveralls. He had a white rag around his hand. There was blood on it."
Lena opened the aircraft service log.
Her finger stopped.
"No cabin maintenance is listed for this row today."
Martin stood. "Then nobody touches that panel until airport police and federal aviation security are here."
It was the correct thing to say.
David still felt his shoulders tighten.
Mercer reappeared at the aircraft door with two corporate security officers.
"Mr. Johnson, step away from the floor panel."
David kept his fingers on the new screw.
"Why?"
"Because you're interfering with aircraft equipment."
"Then tell me why someone changed my son's seat to get him away from it."
Mercer glanced at Martin.
Just once.
Martin saw it.
So did David.
"David," Martin said quietly, "wait for the feds."
Malik whispered, "Dad."
David turned the screw.
It came loose almost without resistance.
The panel shifted.
Something slid inside.
A black data drive dropped onto the carpet.
Mercer went white.
Martin's face changed too.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
"David," he said. "Put that down."
David picked it up.
A faded label ran along one side.
JA-X9 / DEVELOPMENT UNIT.
Johnson Aerotech.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Unknown number.
DON'T GIVE THE DRIVE TO MERIDIAN.
A second message arrived before he could breathe.
May you like
DON'T GIVE IT TO MARTIN HALE EITHER.
