Victoria didn't answer.
"She recognized the station copy format," I said. "A standard passenger doesn't travel with an original yellow maintenance release slip tucked into a regional audit folder. When she leaned over row three with that cup, she saw the Charlotte maintenance header and the employee signature line. She knew exactly what I was carrying."
Hall let out a long breath, rubbing his temples. "We've already dispatched a certified line mechanic to B12. The fuel valve on ship 482 is mechanically frozen at sixty percent open. If that aircraft had climbed to cruising altitude and encountered turbulence or an uneven draw, the cross-feed would have malfunctioned. Captain Miller could have lost trim control over the mountains."
The reality of the statement settled over the small office, cold and undeniable.
Victoria stared at the table, her jaw clenched tight enough that the tendons in her neck stood out. The polished, unassailable confidence she had displayed while tilting that plastic cup had entirely dissolved, stripped away by the plain facts printed in blue ink on a damp sheet of paper.
"Inspector," Hall said, looking up at me. "How do you wish to proceed regarding the airframe?"
"The aircraft remains grounded under an immediate emergency suspension until a full engineering teardown of the fuel assembly is completed," I said, leaning back in my chair despite the damp wool pressing uncomfortably against my spine. "As for Ms. Sterling, her flight qualifications and ground clearance are suspended pending a formal hearing with the regional flight standards board."
Hall nodded slowly, reaching for his desk phone to notify the carrier’s legal department.
I picked up the leather credential case from the table, wiping a tiny speck of dried juice from the gold star before sliding it back into my coat pocket. Outside, through the rain-streaked glass, a maintenance tug was already pulling up to the nose of the grounded aircraft, its amber beacon flashing in steady, silent warning.