Chapter 2 - Twelve Silent Engines
Emergency lights snapped on above the hangar doors.
Red.
Dim.
Wrong.
Evelyn had spent enough time around aircraft to understand how quickly a controlled environment could become dangerous when systems failed simultaneously.
"Lock the gates," she ordered.
Randall lifted his radio.
"Security, seal the facility."
No answer.
Only static.
Mason looked toward the darkened maintenance bays.
"Don't lock anything yet."
Evelyn stared at him.
"Why?"
"If whoever did this is still inside, locking the gates keeps him here with us."
That stopped her.
Daniel Cho pulled out his phone.
"No network."
Randall checked his.
"Same."
Evelyn's screen showed no service.
A communications blackout inside a private airport did not happen by accident.
Not on the same day twelve aircraft developed synchronized faults.
"Backup generator?" she asked.
Daniel shook his head.
"Should've started automatically."
Mason looked toward the service building.
"Where is it?"
"North side."
"I'll check it."
Evelyn stepped in front of him.
"No. Security will."
"There is no security radio."
"You are not wandering around my facility."
Mason looked at her for a moment.
"Your facility has twelve disabled aircraft, no communications, no main power, and someone apparently tampering with equipment."
His eyes dropped briefly to her heels.
"Right now, ownership isn't the useful skill."
Then he walked past her.
Evelyn nearly called him back.
Instead, to her own surprise, she followed.
"What are you doing?" Randall asked.
"Finding out why my backup generator isn't working."
Daniel came too.
The three of them crossed behind the hangar while Randall remained with the flight crews.
Mason moved quickly but not recklessly.
He seemed to notice everything.
Doors.
Drainage grates.
Fuel lines.
Camera placements.
Tire marks.
At the generator shed, he stopped before touching the handle.
"Daniel."
"Yeah?"
"Was this serviced recently?"
"Three weeks ago."
"By your team?"
"Outside contractor."
Mason crouched.
A small smear of black grease marked the bottom of the door.
He rubbed it between two fingers.
Then smelled it.
Evelyn watched.
"Please don't tell me you can identify criminals by grease."
"No."
He wiped his fingers.
"But this isn't generator lubricant."
"What is it?"
"Aerospace anti-seize compound."
Daniel frowned.
"Used on turbine assemblies."
"Exactly."
Mason opened the door.
The generator was intact.
The fuel valve had simply been turned off.
Daniel swore under his breath.
Mason turned it back.
Thirty seconds later, the generator coughed awake.
Hangar lights returned.
Phones regained signal.
Radios crackled.
Immediately, voices flooded the channel.
Security.
Pilots.
Technicians.
And one message Evelyn did not want to hear.
"Ms. Carter, vehicle at east gate breached the barrier. Black sedan. Heading south."
Evelyn grabbed the radio.
"License plate?"
The officer read it.
Randall's voice followed.
"That plate belongs to our procurement department."
Evelyn felt something twist inside her.
"Assigned to whom?"
Silence.
"Randall?"
His next words came slowly.
"Victor Hale."
Evelyn stared at the radio.
Victor Hale was not some junior employee.
He was Carter Meridian's chief financial officer.
He had known Evelyn since college.
He had attended her father's funeral.
He had stood beside her at every investor presentation for seven years.
"He can't be involved," she said.
Mason looked at her.
"Why not?"
"Because I know him."
"That's not evidence."
She hated the sentence because it was true.
By the time they returned to the hangar, Daniel's technicians had opened control panels on four aircraft.
The same signs appeared on all of them.
Recently disturbed connectors.
Black conductive residue.
No catastrophic damage.
Just enough tampering to make control computers throw inconsistent warnings.
"Could they have flown?" Evelyn asked.
Daniel answered carefully.
"Maybe."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only honest one."
Mason crouched beside jet four.
"If the faults remained intermittent during taxi, crews might have reset them."
Daniel nodded grimly.
"And if the contamination shifted during climb..."
Evelyn finished the thought herself.
"Loss of engine control."
Nobody needed to say more.
She looked toward the passenger lounge.
Three executives.
A family of five.
Two surgeons.
A senator.
Her own vice chairman.
They had all been scheduled to depart within the hour.
"Twelve jets," Evelyn whispered.
Mason glanced toward her.
"Probably not twelve targets."
"What?"
"Too much work."
Daniel understood first.
"One target hidden inside twelve failures."
Mason nodded.
"If you sabotage one aircraft, investigators know which flight mattered. Sabotage twelve, everyone assumes the company itself was attacked."
Evelyn's stomach tightened.
"Which aircraft?"
Mason looked across the lineup.
"Who was the most valuable passenger today?"
"Financially?"
"To whoever did this."
Evelyn thought.
Then froze.
Her father's former attorney, Walter Pierce, was due to depart at four thirty on jet eleven.
He had called her two days earlier.
Asked to speak privately.
Said he had found something connected to Thomas Carter's estate.
Evelyn had been too busy.
She had told him they would talk after the board meeting.
"Jet eleven," she said.
Mason turned.
"Why?"
"Walter Pierce."
Daniel knew the name.
"Your father's lawyer?"
"Former lawyer."
Mason's eyes sharpened.
"What was he carrying?"
"I don't know."
"Why was he flying?"
"Boston."
"Business?"
"He didn't say."
Mason walked toward jet eleven.
Evelyn followed.
Inside the cabin, Walter Pierce was standing near the door, clutching a worn brown leather briefcase.
At seventy-two, Walter normally carried himself with old-fashioned calm.
Today his hands were shaking.
"Evelyn."
"You need to come with me."
"I've been trying to reach you."
"Why?"
His eyes moved toward Mason.
"Who's this?"
"Someone who may have just saved your life."
Walter looked at him.
And went pale.
Not surprised.
Terrified.
"Mason Reed?"
Mason stopped.
"You know me?"
Walter's grip tightened around the briefcase.
"Not personally."
"Then how?"
Walter looked at Evelyn.
"We need privacy."
"No more privacy," Evelyn said. "Twelve aircraft were sabotaged. Victor Hale's car fled the property. You knew Mason's name before anyone introduced him. Start talking."
Walter swallowed.
Then opened the briefcase.
Inside were old corporate records.
Paper records.
Not digital copies.
Originals.
Some bore her father's signature.
Others bore Victor's.
And one bore a name Evelyn had never seen.
REED AERONAUTICAL SYSTEMS.
Mason stared.
Walter pulled out a photograph.
Two men stood beside an experimental aircraft twenty years earlier.
One was Thomas Carter.
The other looked almost exactly like Mason.
"My father," Mason said.
Walter nodded.
"Caleb Reed."
Mason took the picture.
His face became unreadable.
Evelyn looked between them.
"My father knew his father?"
Walter gave a bitter laugh.
"Knew him? Caleb Reed designed the system that made your father's first long-range fleet possible."
Evelyn stared.
"That's impossible."
"It's in the files."
"Why have I never heard his name?"
Walter looked toward the open cabin door.
"Because someone made sure you wouldn't."
Mason's voice was quiet.
"Who?"
Walter looked at Evelyn.
"Your father."
The words struck harder than she expected.
"No."
"Evelyn—"
"No."
Walter removed another document.
A settlement agreement.
Unsigned.
Dated nineteen years earlier.
Caleb Reed accused Carter Meridian Aviation of using proprietary engine-monitoring technology without attribution or payment.
The requested settlement was modest compared to the fortune Thomas Carter later made.
But a handwritten note appeared in the margin.
DENY EVERYTHING.
Evelyn recognized the handwriting.
Her father's.
Mason did too.
His jaw tightened.
Walter continued.
"Caleb wouldn't drop it."
"What happened?" Evelyn asked.
Walter looked at Mason.
"Three months later, he died in a test-flight accident."
Silence filled the cabin.
Mason lowered the photograph.
"My father died because a fuel-control unit failed."
Walter's eyes fell.
"That's what the investigation concluded."
Mason stared at him.
"What are you saying?"
Walter closed the briefcase.
"I'm saying the investigation was influenced."
"By Thomas Carter?"
Walter hesitated.
"No."
Evelyn inhaled.
"Then who?"
A sound came from the luggage compartment.
Soft.
Metal against metal.
Mason turned.
Someone was inside the rear service area.
May you like
He motioned for Evelyn to stay back.
Then the cabin door slammed shut behind them.
