He had seen the code only once before.
During training.
It was associated with a very small group of people.
People whose identities were not supposed to be disclosed through ordinary passenger-service channels.
Ethan swallowed.
"Karen?"
"Yes?"
"Does the captain know who she is?"
Karen stared at the screen.
Then she answered quietly.
"I sincerely hope he doesn't."
Back aboard Flight 417, Sarah Bennett opened the passenger-service application.
She entered the flight number.
417.
Then the seat.
2A.
The reservation appeared.
MAYA WASHINGTON.
First class.
Confirmed.
Paid in full.
No irregularities.
Sarah scrolled down.
An additional notation appeared beneath the passenger's information.
A small internal code.
She frowned.
She didn't recognize it immediately.
But the format looked familiar.
She tapped the screen.
A restricted-access warning appeared.
EXECUTIVE AUTHORIZATION — CONTACT OPERATIONS CONTROL.
Sarah stared.
She had seen executive service codes before.
Senior employees sometimes traveled under special internal designations.
Board members occasionally received additional security protections.
But this code was different.
It carried an authorization level Sarah remembered from a training session several years earlier.
She searched the internal directory.
A second warning appeared.
RESTRICTED CORPORATE PROFILE.
Sarah felt her pulse quicken.
She looked toward Maya.
The woman was still sitting calmly in seat 2A.
No special demands.
No threats.
No announcement of her identity.
Just a valid ticket.
And a series of reasonable questions.
Sarah suddenly wondered whether Captain Arrington understood how serious the situation had become.
She reached for the operations telephone.
Before she could dial, the tablet vibrated.
A new message appeared.
OPERATIONS CONTROL: VERIFY PASSENGER 2A STATUS IMMEDIATELY.
Sarah froze.
Someone at headquarters was already looking at the reservation.
Captain Arrington approached Maya again.
This time, he stood a little farther away.
"Ms. Washington."
She looked up.
"Yes, Captain?"
"We're reviewing the situation."
"I'm glad to hear that."
He shifted his weight.
"For now, you may remain seated."
Maya studied him.
"For now?"
"Until the review is complete."
"Am I still being accused of refusing instructions?"
"We haven't reached a final determination."
Maya nodded.
"Then I assume the removal request has been suspended."
Arrington hesitated.
"Temporarily."
"Thank you."
Her politeness irritated him.
He had expected relief.
Perhaps an apology.
Instead, Maya spoke as though he had corrected an administrative error.
"Ms. Washington," he said, "I hope you understand that this airline takes passenger safety very seriously."
"So do I."
"Our crew members deserve respect."
"Absolutely."
Arrington nodded.
"Good."
Maya continued.
"Passengers deserve it too."
The captain's expression froze.
Behind him, Michael Reeves looked down at his tablet.
David Mercer pressed his lips together.
Linda Foster gave the smallest approving nod.
Arrington cleared his throat.
"We'll be departing as soon as possible."
He turned away.
Maya watched him return to the galley.
Then she reached for her phone.
This time, nobody stopped her.
Three missed messages waited on the screen.
All from Olivia Grant.
Please call when available.
Operations flagged an incident involving your reservation.
Are you safe?
Maya read them.
Then she typed: