The original pages emerged slowly, each photographed before being turned. Victor compared the signatures, page identifiers, and embossed notarial marks with reference scans held by an outside escrow agent. Nothing was missing. The tear had damaged the protective sleeve, not the agreement.
“Authentication complete, subject to final written certification,” Victor announced.
Naomi's shoulders relaxed. “Then we can proceed.”
Claire studied the first schedule. Its figures were familiar, but one annotation in the margin caught her eye. A handwritten reference to a reserve account had been crossed out and replaced by a numbered rider. She remembered insisting on that change during negotiations because it prevented Northstar from using maintenance reserves as unrestricted operating cash.
“Put Schedule Seven on screen,” she said.
Victor complied. Naomi compared it with the amendment Northstar had circulated to its lenders. The lender version omitted the restriction entirely.
“That's the discrepancy,” Naomi said. “They didn't just misclassify funds. They represented an authority they never received.”
Claire felt the familiar chill of a complicated suspicion becoming a simple fact.
The suite door opened. Elena entered with a printed record from corporate travel. “We found who arranged Ms. Holloway's ticket.”
She placed the paper before Claire. The reservation had been issued through Northstar's procurement office that afternoon, hours after Claire's itinerary was circulated to a limited executive group. The approving manager was Martin Kessler, Northstar's vice president of fleet procurement.
“Is that enough to prove coordination?” an audit committee member asked.
“No,” Claire answered. “It proves timing and access. We need the messages.”
Naomi nodded. “Compliance has already issued a preservation notice.”
A second call arrived, this one from Kessler himself. Naomi placed it on speaker after warning him that the conversation would be documented.
“Claire,” he began warmly, “I hear there's been an unfortunate misunderstanding on your flight.”
“That's an interesting description,” Claire said.
“Casey can be intense. She's valuable to us, but sometimes she oversteps. I hope we can resolve this without creating unnecessary reputational damage.”
“What would resolution look like to you?”
“Perhaps postpone tonight's vote. Let everyone cool off. We'll review the paperwork next week.”
Claire looked at the authenticated agreement on the table. “The vote concerns financial representations made to lenders. Why would an argument on an airplane require postponing it?”
Silence stretched over the speaker.
“I'm only suggesting prudence,” Kessler said finally.
“Then send the board every version of Schedule Seven your department distributed, along with the approval history.”
“We'll need time.”
“You have until the meeting begins.”
Kessler ended the call without another word.
Victor turned off the overhead camera and began repackaging the pages. Claire remained seated, her hands folded as they had been on the aircraft. The same posture now carried a different weight. On the plane, stillness had protected her dignity. Here, it protected her judgment.
Her phone vibrated with a message from Naomi's compliance investigator: CASEY'S PHONE BACKUP SHOWS A REQUEST TO DELAY VANCE. SENDER ACCOUNT LINKED TO PROCUREMENT.
Claire read it carefully. A request to delay her was not yet proof of why the sleeve had been opened.
But the argument in Row 1 was no longer an isolated act of arrogance.
At 7:58, the emergency board session opened with six directors on video and one seat left conspicuously empty. Claire joined from the operations suite. Victor's certification and the original lease were already available through a secure evidence portal.