Three years ago.
Then Robert pointed at Ethan.
“Now look at his face.”
Mercer did.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Look closer.”
Mercer studied the photograph.
Suddenly he noticed something.
The man beside David was thinner.
His hair was darker.
But there was another difference.
He was wearing a wedding ring.
Mercer looked at Richard.
“Does Ethan wear a wedding ring?”
Richard shook his head.
“No.”
Robert smiled faintly.
“Then that's not Ethan.”
Mercer stared at the photograph.
“Who is it?”
“I don't know.”
Robert took the photograph back.
“But now we know something important.”
“What?”
“Someone wanted us to think it was Ethan.”
Richard looked alarmed.
“Why?”
“To protect the real person.”
Mercer felt the pieces beginning to move.
The passenger in 2C.
The false name.
Richard's employee account.
The photograph.
David's missing report.
All of it seemed connected.
Then Emily suddenly spoke.
“Captain.”
“Yes?”
“I remembered something.”
“What?”
“Mr. Jenkins wasn't the only unusual passenger.”
Mercer turned.
“Who else?”
“A woman.”
“What about her?”
“She asked about Mr. Jenkins.”
Mercer's expression changed.
“When?”
“Before takeoff.”
“What did she ask?”
Emily swallowed.
“She wanted to know whether Mr. Jenkins was traveling alone.”
Robert looked at her.
“What did she look like?”
“Late thirties. Blonde hair. Black coat.”
Robert's face changed.
“Did she give you her name?”
“No.”
“Did she have a boarding pass?”
“Yes.”
Emily pulled up the manifest.
“There.”
Robert looked at the screen.
The name was Laura Bennett.
His expression changed instantly.
“You know her?”
Robert didn't answer.
“Mr. Jenkins?”
He stared at the name.
Then whispered:
“David's attorney.”
Mercer felt a chill.
“His attorney?”
“Yes.”
“Why would she be on this flight?”
Robert looked at him.
“She shouldn't be.”
“What do you mean?”
“She died two years ago.”
No one spoke.
Emily slowly lowered the tablet.
Mercer felt his skin prickle.
“That's impossible.”
Robert pointed toward the passenger list.
“Then someone is traveling under her identity.”
Richard's phone suddenly rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face went white.
“Who is it?”
Richard didn't answer.
The phone kept ringing.
Finally, he picked up.
“Hello?”
No voice came through.
Only static.
Then a distorted whisper.
“Stop looking.”
Richard froze.
The call ended.
Mercer looked at him.
“What did they say?”
Richard stared at the phone.
“Stop looking.”
Robert's expression became grim.
Mercer stepped toward him.
“We need security.”
“Yes.”
“And the police.”
Robert nodded.
But before anyone could move, another sound came from the end of the corridor.
A metallic crash.
Everyone turned.
A hospital orderly stood beside an overturned cart.
He looked startled.
“Sorry.”
Mercer stared at him.
Something about the man bothered him.
The orderly's uniform looked slightly too large.
His shoes were polished black.
His hands were clean.
Too clean for someone who had been working around a hospital all morning.
Mercer took a step forward.
“Sir.”
The orderly looked at him.
“Yes?”
“What's your name?”
The man hesitated.
“James.”
“Last name?”
Another pause.
“Wilson.”
Mercer looked at Robert.
Robert's eyes had narrowed.
The orderly suddenly turned and ran.
Mercer reacted instantly.
“Stop!”
The man sprinted down the corridor.
Mercer chased him.
Security guards shouted.
The orderly pushed through a door and disappeared into a service hallway.
Mercer followed.
He turned the corner.
Nothing.
Only an empty corridor.
Then he noticed a door swinging slowly.
He opened it.
A stairwell.
Footsteps echoed below.
Mercer ran down.
One floor.
Two.
Three.
Then he reached the bottom.
The door slammed shut ahead of him.
Mercer pushed it open.
The man was gone.
But something lay on the floor.
A black leather wallet.
Mercer picked it up.
Inside was an identification card.
He stared at it.
The name was not James Wilson.
It wasn't Ethan Wallace either.
The photograph belonged to a man Mercer had never seen.
But there was one thing he recognized.
The airline employee identification number.
It belonged to someone very senior.
Someone who had access to passenger records.
Maintenance files.
Security footage.
And employee travel accounts.
Mercer slowly looked up.
His mind raced.
The person behind all of this wasn't an outsider.
It was someone inside the airline.
Someone powerful.
Someone who had known about Robert's investigation.
Someone who had known Robert would be on Flight 728.
And someone who had apparently been watching him from the beginning.
Mercer returned to the hospital room.
Robert was waiting.
Mercer placed the wallet on the table.
Robert opened it.
He looked at the identification card.
His face went completely still.
“Who is it?” Mercer asked.
Robert didn't answer.
“Mr. Jenkins?”
Robert finally looked up.
“It can't be.”
“Who?”
Robert turned the card toward Mercer.
Mercer read the name.
His heart stopped.
It belonged to Thomas Jenkins.
Robert's father.
The founder of the airline.
The man who had supposedly died twenty-five years earlier.
Robert whispered:
“My father's dead.”
Mercer stared at the identification card.
Then he noticed the date.
The employee ID had been issued only six months earlier.
And beneath the photograph was a current security clearance.
Robert slowly sat down.
“This isn't my father.”
“Then whose identity is it?”
Robert looked at Mercer.
“I don't know.”
He paused.
“But whoever created this identity wanted me to believe something.”
“What?”
“That the past isn't dead.”
Outside the hospital room, footsteps stopped.
Neither man noticed.
A shadow appeared beneath the door.
Then a voice whispered from the hallway:
“Robert Jenkins.”
The two men froze.
The voice continued.
“You should have stayed retired.”
Then the lights went out.
The lights went out.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The hospital corridor disappeared into darkness.
Captain Daniel Mercer heard Robert Jenkins inhale sharply.
Then a distant alarm began to sound.
Emergency lights flickered on, bathing the hallway in a dim red glow.
Mercer immediately stepped in front of Robert.
“Stay behind me.”
Robert gave a quiet laugh.
“Captain, I'm seventy-eight years old, not helpless.”
“I know.”
“Then stop trying to protect me.”
Mercer looked toward the doorway.
“Someone just threatened you.”
“And apparently they've been doing it for three years.”
Robert's expression hardened.
“Which means we're running out of time.”
The hospital staff began moving through the corridor.
Security officers arrived seconds later.
But whoever had spoken was gone.
No footsteps.
No open door.
Nothing.
Only silence.
One security officer searched the hallway while another checked the stairwell.
Mercer remained beside Robert.