“Immediately.”
“Who told you that?”
The supervisor swallowed.
“The airport director.”
Miller laughed again, but this time there was uncertainty beneath it.
“The airport director doesn’t control my detention decisions.”
“No.”
The supervisor lowered his voice.
“But apparently the governor’s aviation counsel, the airline’s general counsel, and about twelve attorneys currently calling the airport do.”
Now nobody laughed.
Miller turned toward me slowly.
I leaned back against the chair.
“Protocol Executive Omega,” I said quietly.
He stared.
“What the hell is that?”
“The reason your telephone is about to ring.”
Three seconds later, it did.
Miller looked at the phone on the wall.
Nobody moved.
It rang again.
And again.
Finally he answered.
“Miller.”
His posture changed almost immediately.
“Yes, sir.”
Pause.
“No, sir.”
Longer pause.
His eyes moved toward me.
“No, sir, we haven’t charged her.”
Pause.
“Yes, sir. The ticket was verified.”
Another pause.
His face lost its color.
“I understand.”
He slowly lowered the phone.
“Ramirez.”
“Yes?”
“Take off the cuffs.”
Ramirez crossed the room.
The handcuffs opened.
Blood rushed back into my fingers as I brought my arms forward.
Red marks circled both wrists.
I rubbed them slowly.
No one spoke.
Then Miller cleared his throat.
“There appears to have been a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?”
I stood.
“You physically removed a valid first-class passenger after refusing to examine her identification.”
Miller looked toward the floor.
“The flight attendant gave us information that—”
“You are responsible for your own actions.”
He looked up again.
“This can be handled.”
“I know.”
I picked up my phone.
“That’s exactly what I intend to do.”
When the security-room door opened, six people were waiting outside.
Two airport executives.
Two airline managers.
One attorney.
And a man in a charcoal suit whom I recognized immediately.
Daniel Cho.
My chief legal officer.
He had been in New York less than two hours earlier.
Apparently one of our aircraft had gotten him here faster than I expected.
His expression remained perfectly professional until he saw my wrists.
Then something changed in his eyes.
“Vanessa.”
“I’m fine.”
He glanced at Miller.
“You will photograph those injuries before anyone leaves this room.”
Miller started to protest.
Daniel did not even look at him.
“And preserve all surveillance footage from the gate, jet bridge, aircraft cabin, terminal corridor, and detention room.”
The airport executive nodded rapidly.
“Of course.”
“Preserve radio communications as well.”
“Yes.”
“Body cameras?”
“All three officers were wearing them.”
“Good.”
Daniel finally turned toward Miller.
“Do not delete anything.”
Miller’s jaw tightened.
Daniel smiled without warmth.
“Because the destruction of evidence will create a much larger problem than the one you already have.”
I walked toward the terminal.
People were staring.
News traveled quickly in airports.
The videos had traveled faster.
My phone displayed more than nine hundred notifications.
The first passenger video had already crossed two million views.
A second showed Megan pointing at me.
A third clearly captured her saying:
“People who look like you don’t belong in 14A.”
I stopped walking.
Daniel stood beside me.
“How bad?”
“Social media?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated.
“Extremely.”
“Company?”
“Worse.”
I turned.