No designer labels.
Madison smiled.
"Excuse me," she said.
Naomi stopped.
"Yes?"
"Are you Dr. Brooks?"
Naomi nodded.
Madison glanced at the manifest.
"You're listed as the owner."
"I am."
Madison smiled again.
"Okay."
There was something in the way she said it.
Not confirmation.
Judgment.
Naomi was too tired to care.
"Is there a problem?"
"We just have a verification procedure."
Madison stepped closer.
"I'll need to see identification and the ownership documentation."
Naomi handed over her identification.
Madison examined it.
Then she looked at Naomi.
Then at the plane.
Then back at Naomi.
"Interesting."
Naomi waited.
Madison held up the card.
"You're the owner?"
"Yes."
"I see."
Naomi had spent enough years dealing with hospital administrators to recognize the tone.
A person wasn't asking a question.
They were building an accusation.
"Is there anything else?" Naomi asked.
Madison's smile tightened.
"Actually, yes."
She pointed toward the medical bag.
"What is that?"
"My medical bag."
"You can't bring medical equipment onboard without declaring it."
Naomi looked at her.
"It's a leather bag."
Madison opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Behind them, a ground worker named Carlos Mendez had stopped beside a baggage cart.
He recognized the aircraft.
He knew the registration.
He also knew the woman standing beside it.
Not personally.
But Carlos read aviation journals.
He had an associate's degree in aviation management and dreamed of becoming an operations manager.
He had seen photographs of N847NB.
The aircraft belonged to Naomi Brooks.
Not a charter client.
Not a passenger.
The owner.
Carlos watched Madison continue.
"Dr. Brooks," Madison said, "this aircraft is registered under a corporate entity."
"Yes."
"And the passenger name doesn't match the beneficial owner listed on our internal paperwork."
"It should."
Madison gave a small laugh.
"That's not how verification works."
Naomi rubbed her forehead.
She was tired.
Very tired.
"Who is your supervisor?"
Madison crossed her arms.
"I'm responsible for this cabin."
"Then contact whoever handles aircraft authorization."
"I don't need to."
That was when Carlos understood.
This wasn't a misunderstanding.
Madison was enjoying it.
He took his phone from his pocket.
This time, he started recording.
"You Don't Look Like an Owner"
The tarmac had gone strangely quiet.
Several passengers inside the FBO lounge were watching through the enormous glass windows.
Patricia Williams, the senator, had just finished her champagne.
David Kim looked up from his phone.
Maria Santos stopped her livestream.
James Parker lowered his coffee.
Everyone could see Madison standing in front of Naomi.
Everyone could see Naomi's expression.
Calm.
Exhausted.
Confused.
Madison lowered her voice.
"Look, Dr. Brooks, private aviation has become a lot stricter lately."
"I understand."
"So we have to make sure people aren't pretending to own aircraft they don't own."
Naomi stared at her.
"Do you think I'm pretending?"
"I think I'm asking questions."
"No."
Naomi's voice remained quiet.