Chương 2
“When did the startup fault first appear?”
Garrison stopped scrolling.
A younger engineer answered.
“Six forty-three.”
Nobody laughed this time.
Natalie took the tablet from Garrison.
“Who performed the upgrade?”
“Vendor team,” Garrison said.
“Three people.”
“Were they escorted?”
“They’re cleared vendors.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Garrison’s mouth tightened.
“Not continuously.”
Natalie stared at him.
Marcus had seen that look before in executives.
It was the instant when a technical problem became a management problem, and everyone in the room began calculating which version of the truth would be safest.
Marcus stood.
“Don’t call security yet.”
Natalie turned sharply.
“I wasn’t asking permission.”
“Then call them.”
He closed his toolbox.
“But if someone deliberately caused this, the fastest way to lose whatever evidence is left is to announce that you’ve noticed.”
Garrison stepped forward.
“Hold on.”
Marcus picked up the toolbox.
“You’re making a pretty serious accusation based on a scratched washer.”
“I’m not accusing anyone.”
“You just said deliberate.”
“I said if.”
“That’s convenient.”
“It’s grammar.”
The younger engineer made a noise that might have been a cough.
Natalie looked at him, and he became silent.
Then she looked back at Marcus.
“You came here because someone told you we had a startup failure.”
“Yes.”
“You listened to an environmental pump, looked at a panel unrelated to engine start, and now you think the bonding strap matters.”
“Yes.”
“Explain it.”
Marcus glanced around the circle.
Thirty people had not been there when he arrived, but they were close now.
Word traveled fast inside a grounded operation.
Office staff stood beyond the floor markings.
Two mechanics had come over from another bay.
A catering driver waited near the service door, apparently deciding that whatever was happening was more interesting than leaving.
Marcus disliked audiences.
Six years ago, he had learned how quickly an audience could become a jury.
“I’d rather not explain it until the power is off.”
Garrison shook his head.
“Of course.”
Natalie’s patience broke.
“You’ve had everybody in this hangar chasing you around an airplane for twenty minutes.”
“I didn’t ask anybody to chase me.”
“You walked into a restricted maintenance operation without authorization.”
“Derek let me in.”
Derek stared at the floor.
Natalie continued.
“You’ve interrupted my engineering team, implied they missed something obvious, and now you’re hinting at sabotage.”
“I said somebody should kill auxiliary power.”
“And I’m saying we’re done.”
She reached into the inside pocket of her blazer.
Marcus expected a phone.
Instead she pulled out a slim leather wallet.
She removed several bills, counted them once, and held them toward him.
“Your agency has a four-hour minimum, correct?”
“I don’t know.”
“I do.”
Marcus did not take the money.
Natalie’s face hardened.
“One hundred twenty dollars.”
“Keep it.”
“For what?”
“I didn’t do any work.”
“Then consider it compensation for your time.”
“I don’t want compensation.”
Garrison gave a tired laugh.
“Come on, man.”
Marcus picked up his toolbox.
Natalie’s hand remained extended.
There was something almost personal in her anger now, though Marcus doubted it was about him.
The airplane represented a promise she had made to people who did not accept mechanical uncertainty as an answer.
Marcus represented one more variable she could remove.
“Take it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t owe me anything.”
“I’m trying to be fair.”
“No, you’re trying to make me leave.”
That struck something.
Natalie’s fingers closed around the bills.
“You want honesty?”
“I usually prefer it.”
“Fine.”
She stepped closer.
“You are not qualified to interfere with this team.”
Marcus said nothing.
“You have no authorization, no current engineering credentials listed with our contractor, and no professional standing here.”
Still nothing.
“You walked in off a cleaning and maintenance roster and started behaving as if everyone in this building should defer to you.”
Garrison looked away first.
Natalie held out the money again.
“One hundred twenty dollars is all you get.”
Marcus reached for it.
At the last instant, Natalie released the bills before his hand arrived.
They struck his fingers and scattered across the polished concrete.
One slid beneath the edge of his toolbox.
Another stopped beside Garrison’s shoe.
For half a second, Natalie looked surprised by what she had done.
Then somebody laughed.
It came from behind Garrison.
Another person joined in.
Not everyone.
Enough.
Marcus stared at the money.
A strange image came to him of Lily at the kitchen table the previous Sunday, carefully counting quarters from a glass jar because she wanted to buy a birthday present for Patricia without asking him for help.
Twenty-three dollars and fifty cents.
She had been proud of every coin.
Marcus crouched.
He picked up the first bill.
Then the second.
Garrison moved his shoe without being asked.
Marcus retrieved that one too.
The laughter weakened.
He reached beneath his toolbox for the last bill, smoothed the four twenties and four tens against his knee, and folded them once.
Then again.
He put the money in his jacket pocket.
When he stood, Natalie was watching him.
The anger had left her face.
Something worse had replaced it.
Embarrassment.
Marcus looked past her toward the Sovereign.
The auxiliary power was still running.
He could hear the faint cycle again.
Too short.
A pause.
Then another.
He set the toolbox down.
“Someone in here made this jet fail.”
No one laughed.
Garrison’s expression changed first.
“What did you just say?”
Marcus pointed toward the open access bay.
“That strap wasn’t loosened by vibration.”
Natalie did not move.
“You said it was seated.”
“It is.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“It was removed, altered, and put back.”
Garrison crouched again.
Marcus continued before anyone could interrupt.
“The scoring is fresh, but that isn’t the problem.”
He pointed at the bay.
“Look behind the mounting point.”
Garrison lifted the flashlight.
His shoulders went still.
“What?”
Natalie asked.
Garrison did not answer.
“What is it?”
He reached inside, stopped himself before touching anything, and leaned closer.
Then he whispered something Marcus barely heard.
May you like
“Oh, hell.”
Natalie stepped toward him.
