"People who don't look like they can afford the ticket?"
Claire lowered her eyes.
"Sometimes."
Daniel nodded.
"Thank you."
She looked confused.
"For what?"
"For telling the truth."
Robert was watching the security terminal.
He suddenly interrupted.
"I found something."
Daniel walked over.
A map of Terminal Four appeared.
A red dot was blinking near Gate 41.
"What's that?"
"Unauthorized access node."
"How far?"
"About two hundred yards from here."
Daniel stared at the map.
"Gate 41."
Robert nodded.
"Yes."
Daniel frowned.
"That's strange."
"Why?"
"Gate 41 isn't assigned today."
Robert checked.
"You're right."
"Then why is the system active there?"
Robert pulled up the gate schedule.
Nothing.
No flight.
No boarding.
No crew.
No maintenance assignment.
The gate shouldn't have been connected to the live network.
Yet the unauthorized access was coming from there.
Daniel looked at Robert.
"Who's supposed to have access to Gate 41?"
"Maintenance."
"Anyone else?"
"Security."
"Operations?"
"Normally, yes."
"Who accessed it this morning?"
Robert searched.
The results appeared.
His face changed.
"What?"
Robert slowly turned the screen.
"Your account."
Daniel stared.
"What time?"
"8:03."
"I arrived at 7:50."
"Yes."
"I was in the public terminal."
Robert looked at him.
"Then your account was active before you even reached Counter 17."
Daniel said nothing.
Claire looked frightened.
"So whoever is doing this was already inside the system before you arrived."
Daniel nodded.
"Yes."
Robert asked:
"Did you know this was happening?"
Daniel looked at him.
"I suspected something."
Claire stared.
"You suspected someone was using your account?"
"Not exactly."
"What did you suspect?"
Daniel looked at the monitor.
"That someone was manipulating the airport's passenger records."
Robert frowned.
"Why?"
"Because of the complaints."
He opened a file.
The same complaints he had come to investigate.
Twenty-three reports.
Different passengers.
Different dates.
Different employees.
But the same terminal.
Robert looked through them.
"They're all from here."
"Yes."
"Most were already closed."
"Exactly."
Robert opened one.
Complaint resolved — passenger educated on policy.
Daniel frowned.
"Who marked this resolved?"
Robert checked.
"Customer Experience Compliance."
"Name?"
"Elena Voss."
Daniel's expression changed.
Robert noticed.
"You know her?"
"Yes."
"Is she involved?"
"I don't know."
Claire looked at the reports.
"Some of those complaints were about me."
Daniel looked at her.
"How many?"
"Three."
"Why weren't they escalated?"
"I don't know."
Daniel looked at Robert.
"Pull the original versions."
Robert searched.
The system loaded.
Then displayed an error.
FILE NOT FOUND.
Robert frowned.
"That's impossible."
"Try another."
He opened the next.
Same message.
Another.
Same.
Daniel leaned closer.
"Someone deleted the originals."
Robert shook his head.
"They can't be deleted."
"Why?"
"Because the complaint archive is immutable."
Daniel looked at him.
"Then someone bypassed the archive."
Robert's face tightened.
"That's not supposed to be possible."
Daniel smiled faintly.
"We seem to be saying that a lot today."
Suddenly, Claire's phone vibrated.
She looked down.
A message.
Her face went pale.
Daniel noticed.
"What's wrong?"
She handed him the phone.
The message contained one sentence.
STOP HELPING HIM.
Daniel looked at her.
"Who sent this?"
"I don't know."
"Can you trace it?"
Robert shook his head.
"Burner number."
Another message appeared.
YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT DANIEL CROSS IS.
Claire stared.
Then another:
ASK HIM ABOUT HIS FATHER.
Daniel froze.
Robert looked at him.
"Your father?"
Daniel slowly took the phone.
He read the message again.
Nobody in the airport should have known about his father.
His father had been dead for sixteen years.
And Daniel had never discussed him with anyone at work.
He looked at the sender number.
Nothing.
Then a final message appeared.
HE NEVER TOLD YOU WHY HE LEFT.
Daniel's expression hardened.
Robert asked quietly:
"Daniel?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
Daniel ignored him.
"How many people know my family history?"
Robert shook his head.
"I don't know."
"Find out."
Robert began typing.
Daniel turned toward the window.
For the first time that morning, the airport felt different.
He had spent years believing his past was separate from his work.
Now someone was proving that it wasn't.
His father had worked in aviation systems.
Not as an executive.
As an engineer.
He had designed security infrastructure for several regional airports before disappearing from Daniel's life.
Daniel had been sixteen.
His father had left one evening and never returned.
The official explanation had been simple.
A workplace accident.
Daniel had never believed it.
But he had stopped asking questions.
Until now.
Robert interrupted.
"I found something."
Daniel turned.
"What?"
"Your father's name appears in the old airport archive."
Daniel's eyes narrowed.
"What name?"
"Thomas Cross."
Daniel stopped.
"That's impossible."
Robert shook his head.
"It's here."
He turned the monitor.
A personnel file appeared.
THOMAS CROSS
SYSTEMS ENGINEER
EMPLOYEE STATUS: TERMINATED
DATE: 2009
Daniel stared.
"Open it."
Robert clicked.
The file loaded.
There was almost nothing.
No photograph.
No employment history.
No termination reason.
Just one note.
IDENTITY REVOKED.
Daniel's face went cold.
"Identity revoked?"
Robert nodded.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know."
Daniel looked at the date.
Sixteen years ago.
The year his father disappeared.
He stared at the screen.
"Why would an airport revoke an employee's identity?"
Robert didn't answer.
Then another file appeared automatically.
No one had opened it.
No one had clicked anything.
It simply appeared.
THOMAS CROSS — FINAL ACCESS LOG
Robert leaned toward the screen.
The log displayed one entry.
LOCATION: GATE 41
TIME: 11:42 P.M.
ACCESS LEVEL: EXECUTIVE
Daniel whispered:
"My father."
Claire stepped closer.
"What happened to him?"
Daniel didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Because beneath the final access entry was another line.
SECOND USER DETECTED
IDENTITY: DANIEL CROSS
Daniel stared.
"I wasn't there."
Robert looked at him.
"You were sixteen."
"Exactly."
Claire whispered:
"Someone used your identity back then."
Daniel nodded slowly.
The same realization he had reached about the current breach was now reaching backward through time.
Someone had been using his name for years.
Maybe decades.
Robert looked toward him.
"Daniel, there's something else."
"What?"
"The second user didn't just access Gate 41."
"What did they do?"
Robert opened the record.