Chapter 3 - THE WRONG VILLAIN
Mercer slapped the manager’s device down before the initials finished rendering.
The screen struck the armrest of Seat 1D.
Passengers gasped.
The airport manager yanked it back.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Mercer’s face had gone red.
“Protecting internal security information from unauthorized disclosure.”
David stepped toward him.
“My son is the passenger whose record was altered.”
“You are still not authorized to view executive credentials.”
Catherine laughed once, sharp and humorless.
“Funny time to care about rules.”
Mercer turned on her.
“You need to stop talking.”
That changed the cabin.
Several phones rose at once.
Mercer saw them.
His shoulders dropped half an inch.
The second Mesa executive, a younger woman named Lena Park, moved between him and Catherine.
“Grant, go to the jet bridge.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“That was not a suggestion.”
For the first time, Mercer looked uncertain.
David watched him walk off the aircraft.
Catherine’s knees seemed to weaken as soon as he disappeared.
She grabbed the edge of a seat.
“I thought it was a legitimate instruction.”
David did not soften.
“You threw my son’s bag into the aisle.”
“I know.”
“You tried to intimidate him into moving.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to erase that because someone higher up gave you an order.”
Catherine swallowed.
“I’m not asking you to.”
That answer stopped him.
She unlocked her tablet again.
“The message wasn’t just a seat change.”
Lena Park looked over.
“What do you mean?”
“It had an operational flag.”
“What flag?”
Catherine opened the notification settings and scrolled through recent system events.
The original message was gone, but a small technical entry remained.
PRIORITY OPS OVERRIDE — CABIN POSITION 2A.
David read it twice.
“Cabin position,” he said.
Not passenger.
Not Malik.
Seat 2A itself.
Malik heard the difference too.
“So they didn’t care who I was?”
David looked at him.
“Maybe not at first.”
That was worse.
The airport manager crouched beside Seat 2A and looked under it.
“What is directly below this row?”
Lena answered.
“Forward electronics access. Some wiring runs. Nothing a passenger can reach.”
Malik shifted his feet.
A faint metallic click came from beneath the carpet.
Everyone froze.
“What was that?” Catherine asked.
Malik lifted both shoes.
The sound came again when the seat moved.
David knelt.
There was a narrow access panel under the front edge of 2A.
One screw looked bright.
The others were dull with age.
David touched the new screw.
“Who serviced this cabin this morning?”
Lena pulled out her phone.
“I’ll check.”
Malik leaned over the armrest.
“I saw somebody down there.”
David looked up.
“When?”
“Before boarding. A maintenance guy was on his knees by my seat.”
“What did he look like?”
“Blue coveralls. Dark hair. He had a cut on his hand.”
“How bad?”
“There was blood on a white rag.”
Catherine stared at him.
“You’re sure?”
Malik nodded.
“He looked at me when I put my bag down.”
“What did he say?” David asked.
“Nothing. He just left.”
Lena’s phone vibrated.
She checked the screen.
“No maintenance is logged for 2A today.”
David turned back to the panel.
Catherine crouched beside him.
“Mr. Johnson, we should let maintenance open that.”
Lena’s face changed.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
She pointed toward the aircraft door.
Two men in airport security uniforms had appeared on the jet bridge.
Behind them stood Grant Mercer.
He was speaking into his phone.
David put two fingers on the loose screw.
Mercer saw him.
His voice rose from the doorway.
“Mr. Johnson, do not touch that panel.”
David stopped twisting.
“Why?”
Mercer stepped onto the aircraft.
“Because you are interfering with aircraft equipment.”
“Then tell me why somebody altered my son’s seat specifically to get him away from it.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then you shouldn’t care if I look.”
Mercer’s face tightened.
Security moved closer.
David turned the screw.
It came free with almost no resistance.
The panel shifted.
Something slid inside.
A small black object dropped onto the carpet between David’s shoes.
No bigger than a thumb.
A data drive.
Mercer went white.
Then he shouted at security.
May you like
“Take it from him.”
