Then Robert said something unexpected.
“Take me back to the airport.”
Mercer stared at him.
“You just collapsed.”
“I know.”
“You need medical observation.”
“I've had enough observation.”
“Mr. Jenkins—”
“Captain.”
Robert's voice was firm.
“If someone inside the airline is willing to threaten me inside a hospital, then staying here is the worst possible decision.”
Mercer couldn't argue.
Twenty minutes later, after a doctor reluctantly cleared Robert to travel under supervision, the group returned to the airport.
The passengers from Flight 728 had already been placed on another aircraft.
Mercer was told he could remain behind and take a later flight.
He refused.
Robert looked at him.
“You don't have to do this.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
Mercer paused.
“Because I started this morning thinking you didn't belong in First Class.”
Robert smiled.
“And now?”
“Now I think I owe you a flight.”
They boarded the replacement aircraft several hours later.
This time, Robert didn't sit in 3A.
He sat directly behind the cockpit.
And Captain Mercer made sure no one questioned him.
The aircraft climbed into the night sky.
At 30,000 feet, the cabin lights dimmed.
Most passengers slept.
Mercer remained awake.
The mystery had consumed him.
David Jenkins.
The maintenance records.
The false identities.
The mysterious woman.
The employee account.
The photograph.
And the strange identification card belonging to a man who had been dead for twenty-five years.
Nothing made sense.
Until Robert entered the cockpit.
“Captain.”
Mercer turned.
“Couldn't sleep?”
“Not with this much unfinished business.”
Robert sat in the observer's seat.
He placed his leather briefcase on the floor.
Then he opened it.
“There's something I haven't told you.”
Mercer looked over.
“What?”
“My son didn't die because of a maintenance report.”
Mercer frowned.
“I thought—”
“That was what I wanted people to believe.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed to know who would react.”
Mercer stared at him.
“You've been investigating this for three years.”
“Yes.”
“And you intentionally allowed people to believe you were looking into a maintenance failure?”
Robert nodded.
“Because the maintenance report was only the beginning.”
He removed a small envelope.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
“My son sent this to me the night before he died.”
Mercer read it.
The message was short.
Dad, the problem isn't the airplanes. It's the people who control what gets written about them.
Mercer looked up.
“What does that mean?”
Robert shook his head.
“I didn't understand it at first.”
“And now?”
“Now I do.”
Robert pointed toward the aircraft controls.
“An airline generates enormous amounts of information. Maintenance records. Passenger records. Employee records. Security reports. Incident reports.”
Mercer nodded.
“All of it can be changed.”
“Exactly.”
Mercer's face became serious.
“Someone has been manipulating records.”
“Yes.”
“To hide what?”
Robert looked at him.
“People.”
Mercer didn't understand.
“People?”
“Passengers who complained.”
“Employees who reported misconduct.”
“Engineers who questioned maintenance decisions.”
“Pilots who refused unsafe instructions.”
Robert's voice became quieter.
“They weren't all killed.”
Mercer exhaled.
“Then what?”
“They were made to disappear.”
Mercer stared at him.
“Disappear?”
“Transferred. Fired. Blacklisted. Accused of misconduct. Their complaints were buried.”
Robert looked down.
“My son found a pattern.”
“What pattern?”
“Every person who came close to exposing the truth eventually left the company.”
Mercer thought about Ethan Wallace.
“Except Ethan.”
Robert nodded.
“That's why Ethan became a suspect.”
Mercer looked at him.
“But the photograph wasn't Ethan.”
“No.”
“Then who was it?”
Robert hesitated.
“I finally know.”
Mercer waited.
Robert pulled another photograph from the briefcase.
This one was clearer.
A young man stood beside David.
Mercer stared.
He recognized him immediately.
It was Thomas Jenkins.
Robert's father.
But the photograph was dated only four years ago.
Mercer shook his head.
“That's impossible.”
“I know.”
“Your father died twenty-five years ago.”
“That is what everyone believes.”
Mercer looked at Robert.
“What are you saying?”
Robert's eyes were filled with something between anger and grief.
“My father didn't die twenty-five years ago.”
Mercer felt a chill.
“He disappeared.”
“Why?”
“I was told he died overseas.”
“Who told you?”
“His lawyer.”
“Did you see a body?”
“No.”
“Did you see a death certificate?”
“Yes.”
Robert slowly shook his head.
“Forged.”
Mercer stared at him.
“So your father may still be alive?”
Robert looked at the photograph.
“He was alive four years ago.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don't know.”
Mercer thought about the false employee ID.
“Someone is using his identity.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Robert looked toward the cockpit door.
“Because my father founded the airline.”
Mercer nodded.
“And whoever controls his identity can make decisions in his name.”
Mercer's eyes widened.
“Contracts.”
“Exactly.”
“Accounts.”
“Yes.”
“Company ownership.”
Robert nodded.
“Everything.”
Mercer suddenly understood the scale of the problem.
Someone wasn't merely hiding a maintenance failure.
Someone might be manipulating the airline's ownership structure.
Robert looked at him.
“And there's one more thing.”
“What?”
“The person doing it has been waiting for me to find out.”
Mercer felt a knot form in his stomach.
“How do you know?”
Robert smiled sadly.
“Because my son wasn't the first person they tried to silence.”
“Who was?”
“My father.”
The cockpit became silent.
Then the radio crackled.
Mercer answered.
“Flight 728.”
A voice came through.
“Captain Mercer, we need you to alter course.”
Mercer frowned.
“This is Flight 728. Say again.”
The voice repeated the instruction.
“Alter course immediately.”
Mercer checked the navigation system.
There was no corresponding instruction from air traffic control.
He looked at Michael.
“Do you recognize that frequency?”
Michael shook his head.
“No.”
Mercer returned to the radio.
“Identify yourself.”
Silence.
Then the voice replied:
“Captain, you have something aboard your aircraft that belongs to us.”
Mercer felt his blood run cold.
Robert looked at him.
The voice continued.
“Give us Robert Jenkins.”
Mercer switched off the radio.
Michael stared at him.
“What was that?”
“Someone trying to interfere with the flight.”
Robert stood.
“They know I'm here.”
Mercer nodded.
“Apparently.”
Robert looked toward the cockpit door.
“Then they made one mistake.”
“What?”
“They underestimated you.”
Mercer almost laughed.
“After the way I treated you this morning?”
Robert shook his head.
“You changed.”
“That's enough.”
“No.”
Robert looked directly at him.
“People rarely change because someone tells them to.”
He picked up his briefcase.
“They change when they finally see themselves clearly.”
Mercer looked at him.
“And what do you see?”
Robert smiled.
“Someone who judged an old man by his clothes.”
Mercer sighed.
“I'll never live that down.”
“You shouldn't.”
They both laughed quietly.
For the first time since the morning, the tension eased.
But only for a moment.
A warning light suddenly appeared on the cockpit panel.
Michael pointed.
“Captain.”
Mercer looked.
“One of the communication systems has failed.”
“Backup.”
“Backup is functioning.”
Then another light appeared.
“Navigation?”
“Still good.”
A third alarm sounded.