Chương 12
“Yes.”
Rebecca touched my arm.
“Eleanor.”
I pulled away harder than I intended.
Her hand dropped.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She nodded, but her face had closed slightly.
That was fair.
Ortiz watched all of it.
He had the decency not to soften his voice.
“Where is Martin?”
“New York.”
“Specifically.”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel looked at me.
“You don’t?”
“No.”
I hated the surprise in his expression.
My son and I did not speak every day.
We did not speak every week.
There had been years when we had almost managed to convince ourselves that was normal.
“Last direct contact?” Ortiz asked.
“Eleven days ago.”
“About what?”
“A board appointment.”
“Friendly?”
“No.”
“Hostile?”
“Not exactly.”
Daniel said, “He argued with you in front of the governance committee.”
“That wasn’t personal.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“It was very personal.”
I turned toward her.
“He opposed the restructuring.”
“He told you that you’d rather trust strangers than family.”
The sentence returned with unpleasant precision.
Martin had said it quietly after the meeting, when everyone else had left the room.
I had told him family was not a governance category.
He had laughed once and said, “That should be engraved on your grave.”
I had not called him afterward.
He had not called me.
Ortiz asked, “Does Martin have access to executive security systems as part of his job?”
“Yes.”
“What is his job?”
“He oversees strategic infrastructure investments and serves on the corporate risk committee.”
“Which gives him a reason to access your travel record?”
“Not without an active security review.”
“Was there one?”
“No.”
Daniel’s phone vibrated.
He read the screen.
“Credential was used from a Vanguard device registered to Martin’s office suite at 4:17 a.m.”
Rebecca exhaled.
“That still doesn’t prove he was there.”
“No,” I said.
“Building access?”
Daniel checked.
“His employee badge entered headquarters garage at 3:51.”
My stomach tightened.
“Vehicle?”
“Registered company car.”
“Driver?”
“Camera review pending.”
Ortiz nodded toward the nearby SUV.
“We need to move this conversation indoors.”
I looked back at the aircraft.
Technicians remained positioned near the cargo hold.
Passengers were still aboard.
“How long until deplaning?”
“Depends on the inspection.”
“Then we stay close.”
Ortiz shook his head.
“You stay close enough to be useful and far enough not to become another problem.”
“I’ve missed you too, Sam.”
“That joke was weak.”
“I’m distracted.”
That was more truth than I usually gave him.
A mobile operations vehicle had been positioned near the remote stand, and Ortiz guided us inside.
The interior smelled like plastic, coffee, and overheated electronics.
Two Customs officers sat at a narrow table beneath wall-mounted monitors.
One screen showed the aircraft exterior.
Another showed a loading diagram.
A third displayed the cargo container from an inspection camera.
The secondary electronic component behind its identification plate was small.
Too small to tell me anything useful.
“Bomb squad assessment?” I asked.
“Passive until isolated,” one officer said.
“Possible tracking beacon.”
“Possible anything else?”
“Possible.”
I nodded.
I had always disliked experts most when they were responsibly cautious.
Daniel set his tablet on the table.
“Martin’s phone is off.”
“Since when?”
“Last network connection was 6:08 this morning.”
“Location?”
“Manhattan.”
“Precise?”
“Not legally available to us without proper process.”
Ortiz said, “We’re working on that.”
“Any company vehicle data?”
Daniel hesitated.
“That’s where it gets strange.”
I looked at him.
“The car associated with his badge entry left headquarters at 4:39.”
“Where did it go?”
“JFK.”
Rebecca whispered, “Oh, God.”
I ignored her reaction because mine was worse.
“Airport camera?”
“Plate captured entering a commercial garage at 5:26.”
“That puts him here before Marcus accessed the cargo file.”
“Potentially.”
“Potentially,” I repeated.
Ortiz watched me.
“You’re protecting him.”
“I’m protecting the sequence.”
“He is your son.”
“Yes.”
“That matters.”
“It makes accuracy matter more.”
My voice had gone cold.
Daniel looked down.
He had heard that tone before.
So had Rebecca.
I resented them for recognizing it.
An officer at the monitor spoke.
“Movement at forward door.”
We all turned.
Passengers were beginning to deplane.
The security team had cleared a controlled route away from the aircraft.
People descended the stairs carrying phones, backpacks, coats, duty-free bags, and expressions ranging from irritation to fear.
I spotted Harold immediately because he still had his crossword open on his phone.
Owen followed him.
He looked toward the operations vehicle.
He could not see me through the dark glass.
That was probably for the best.
Marisol came later with Victoria.
Victoria’s posture had collapsed inward.
She kept her arms folded tightly over herself.
No handbag.
No phone.
No performance.
She looked toward every black vehicle as if each might contain an answer she did not want.
Then the aircraft door emptied.
Ortiz’s radio crackled.
He listened.
“What?”
Daniel asked.
Ortiz held up a hand.
The radio voice continued.
He answered with a short acknowledgment.
Then he looked at us.
“They’ve cleared the passenger cabin.”
“And the container?”
“Still evaluating.”
“Any immediate threat?”
“None detected.”
The words should have relieved me.
They did not.
Daniel’s phone vibrated again.
His eyes narrowed.
“What now?”
“Martin’s assistant just responded.”
I looked at him.
“Where is she?”
“At headquarters.”
“Did she see him this morning?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“She says Martin ordered her yesterday to reserve a private conference room for seven this morning.”
“Where?”
“Vanguard’s JFK operations building.”
Rebecca stared.
“He was supposed to be here.”
“Yes.”
“Who was the meeting with?”
Daniel read further.
“She wasn’t told.”
Ortiz said, “Get us the room access records.”
Daniel typed.
I stood very still.
Martin had a reason to be near the airport.
That made everything worse and, perversely, slightly better.
People with legitimate reasons sometimes left suspicious-looking trails.
People planning crimes also exploited legitimate reasons.
Neither fact helped.
My phone rang.
Not the secure line.
My personal number.
The screen showed MARTIN.
Nobody spoke.
I answered.
“Where are you?”
His breathing was audible.
“Mom.”
“Where are you?”
“I need you to listen.”
May you like
“That depends on your answer.”
A pause.
