Chapter 2 - Someone in the Cabin
I showed Maya the photograph.
She stopped breathing for a second.
"That's here."
"I know."
"Someone took this from business class?"
"Or economy."
The angle came from beyond the curtain, perhaps fifteen feet away.
Daniel saw the screen.
His reaction told me more than words could.
"You need to give me the card."
"No."
"Claire, this isn't a game."
"Who sent the message?"
"I don't know."
"You recognized something."
He shook his head.
"Who are 'they'?"
Vanessa stepped closer.
"I want to know too."
Daniel looked at her with an expression almost resembling pity.
"You were never supposed to be involved."
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
"You hid something in a necklace you put around my neck."
"I didn't hide it."
That stopped us.
"What?"
Daniel rubbed both hands across his face.
"The necklace wasn't supposed to contain anything."
"Then how did the card get there?" I asked.
"I don't know."
I didn't believe him.
Not yet.
But fear is difficult to fake when you've lived beside someone for fifteen years.
Daniel was afraid.
We returned him to his seat.
I kept the card.
Then I contacted Captain Reynolds.
I didn't tell him about my marriage.
I told him the operationally relevant part.
A passenger had apparently photographed crew members without permission and sent a threatening message through onboard connectivity.
Captain Reynolds immediately contacted the purser and airline security operations through the cockpit communication system.
No confrontation.
No public announcement.
No panic.
The flight continued.
Meanwhile, I started thinking.
Daniel had chosen Madrid.
Why?
He hated Spain.
He hated overnight flights.
He complained about jet lag constantly.
Yet he had purchased two business-class tickets with company money.
Then another detail surfaced.
The hotel.
The transaction showed the Palacio Marqués.
But Vanessa had mentioned something different when boarding.
She had told another passenger they were staying at the Ritz.
Why pay nearly $9,000 to a hotel you weren't using?
I went to seat 2B.
"Vanessa."
She looked exhausted.
"Can we talk?"
Daniel started to stand.
I looked at him.
"Sit."
To my surprise, he did.
Vanessa followed me to the rear galley.
"How long?" I asked.
She understood.
"Five months."
Pain arrived then.
Small.
Sharp.
I had been too busy surviving the larger shock to feel it.
Five months.
Christmas.
My birthday.
Our anniversary.
Five months.
"Did you know he was married?"
"He said the divorce was almost finalized."
"Did you ever see paperwork?"
"No."
"Did you visit our house?"
"He said you had sold it."
I almost laughed.
Instead, I nodded.
"What does Daniel do, according to you?"
She frowned.
"He owns an aviation consulting company."
"Correct."
"He said he was negotiating a European acquisition."
That was new.
"What acquisition?"
"I don't know."
"Why Madrid?"
"He has a meeting tomorrow."
"With whom?"
"He wouldn't tell me."
I studied her.
"Why bring you?"
"He said after the meeting we'd spend a week in Spain."
"And the necklace?"
"He gave it to me after dinner three weeks ago."
"Where?"
"Le Bernardin."
Another corporate charge.
Of course.
Vanessa looked ashamed.
"I thought he was rich."
"He is."
"Then why steal company money?"
"That's what I'm trying to discover."
She hesitated.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"Last month I woke up at his apartment and heard him arguing on the phone."
Apartment.
Another surprise.
"Which apartment?"
Her face told me she understood.
"You didn't know?"
"No."
"Tribeca."
"Address."
She gave it to me.
I wrote it down.
"What was he saying?"
"He said, 'You promised Claire would never be involved.'"
My skin went cold.
"What else?"
"He said he wouldn't sign anything until someone named Adrian guaranteed your safety."
"Adrian who?"
"I don't know."
Daniel had never mentioned an Adrian.
Vanessa continued.
"Then he said, 'If you touch my wife, the deal is over.'"
That didn't fit.
Affair.
Fraud.
Secret apartment.
Forged signatures.
Yet apparently Daniel had been threatening someone to protect me.
"Why didn't you ask him?"
"I did. He said Claire was his business partner."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
"Anything else?"
"He had a folder."
"What kind?"
"Black leather."
"What was inside?"
"I only saw one page."
"What did it say?"
Vanessa thought.
"MRC Holdings."
My pulse quickened.
"And underneath?"
She shook her head.
"Something about beneficial ownership."
That changed everything.
When I returned to business class, Daniel was waiting.
"What did she tell you?"
"Enough."
"Claire—"
"Who is Adrian?"
Daniel looked away.
"Who is he?"
"Someone I wish I'd never met."
"Did he threaten me?"
Silence.
"Daniel."
"Not directly."
"That's not an answer."
He leaned forward.
"I made a mistake."
"Which one? Vanessa? Forgery? Stealing? Secret apartment?"
His face tightened.
"All of it."
At least he didn't insult me by denying anything.
"Three years ago," he said, "Mercer Aviation was close to bankruptcy."
I stared.
"That's impossible."
"No. I hid it."
"Why?"
"Because you had just taken leave to care for your mother. You were already drowning."
My mother had died four months later.
"You had no right."
"I know."
"What did you do?"
"I accepted outside capital."
"From MRC?"
He nodded.
"Who owns it?"
"I didn't know at first."
"And later?"
He looked around.
Then whispered, "Adrian Rourke."
The name meant nothing to me.
"What does he want?"
"Our company."
"Why?"
"Not the company. Our contracts."
Mercer Aviation advised private aviation firms on logistics and airport operations. Our client list included corporations, charter operators, and several government subcontractors.
"What contracts?"
Daniel shook his head.
"Not here."
I nearly lost patience.
"Someone on this aircraft is photographing us. I'd argue 'here' is exactly where you should start talking."
He looked at my pocket.
"The card."
"What about it?"
"Maybe everything is on there."
"Maybe?"
"I've never seen it."
"Then why did you tell me to destroy it?"
"Because I know what Adrian does when records exist."
Before I could ask more, the captain called me.
Security operations had traced the threatening message.
It originated through the aircraft Wi-Fi.
But the account wasn't registered to a passenger.
It belonged to a crew credential.
Mine.
Someone had logged into the system as me.
My stomach dropped.
The captain asked me to come forward.
On the way, I noticed a man in 6C watching me.
Gray suit.
Mid-fifties.
No meal.
No drink.
His tray table was empty.
When our eyes met, he smiled.
I kept walking.
Captain Reynolds explained that ground security would meet us in Madrid.
Until then, we should avoid alarming passengers.
I returned to the galley.
Maya handed me coffee.
"Drink."
"I can't."
"Then hold it and pretend you're human."
Despite everything, I smiled.
Then she lowered her voice.
"The man in 6C asked about you."
"What?"
"He asked how long you'd been flying."
"When?"
"During boarding."
"What did you say?"
"Nothing useful."
"Name?"
Maya checked the manifest.
"Thomas Vale."
I searched the passenger information available to crew.
American passport.
New York address.
Ticket purchased six hours before departure.
One-way.
No checked luggage.
I looked toward 6C.
The seat was empty.
"Where is he?"
Maya glanced down the aisle.
"I don't know."
Then the lavatory indicator near business class changed from occupied to vacant.
The door opened.
Nobody came out.
I approached slowly.
"Sir?"
Nothing.
I opened the door.
Empty.
Impossible.
Then I noticed something on the sink.
My company business card.
CLAIRE MERCER
CO-FOUNDER
MERCER AVIATION CONSULTING
I hadn't carried those cards in two years.
On the back, someone had written:
ASK YOUR HUSBAND WHAT HAPPENED IN LISBON.
I returned to Daniel.
His face changed when he read it.
"What happened in Lisbon?"
He didn't answer.
"What happened?"
Daniel stood.
"We need to talk to the captain."
"Why?"
"Because Thomas Vale isn't his real name."
"Who is he?"
Daniel looked toward seat 6C.
"Adrian Rourke's brother."
A scream came from the rear cabin.
Passengers turned.
Maya ran toward the sound.
I followed.
The rear service door was secure.
The lavatories were empty.
But on the floor beside row 32 lay a black leather folder.
The same kind Vanessa had described.
I picked it up.
Inside was a photograph of Daniel entering a Lisbon hotel.
Beside him stood our former accountant.
The accountant Daniel said had resigned.
On the back was today's date.
And beneath it:
HE'S ON THIS PLANE TOO.
I looked up.
May you like
At the far end of the cabin, a man slowly rose from his seat.
It was our missing accountant.
