"Today?"
"No."
Her face fell slightly.
Caleb continued.
"I can recommend a limited pilot while audit proceeds."
"How limited?"
"Eleven aircraft."
Victoria calculated instantly.
"That's not commercially meaningful."
"It isn't supposed to be."
"It is technically meaningful."
"Enough exposure to validate under controlled conditions."
She looked toward the seat in front.
"Full authorization freezes."
"Likely."
"Not cancellation."
"Likely."
Victoria nodded.
That was not victory.
It was a path.
The plane touched down in Seattle at 11:38.
People stood before the seatbelt sign went off.
Caleb remained seated.
Victoria did too.
For almost three hours she had behaved like someone unable to tolerate waiting.
Now she waited.
The door opened.
Passengers began moving.
Caleb closed his laptop and slipped it into the worn bag.
Victoria adjusted her coat.
When their row emptied, Caleb stepped into the aisle.
She followed.
No more comments about his jacket.
On the jet bridge, a man in a charcoal suit waited near the top.
Caleb recognized him.
Douglas Wren.
Sterling Atlantic operations integration.
Douglas saw Caleb.
His whole posture changed.
He walked forward.
"Caleb."
They shook hands.
"Good flight?"
Caleb glanced backward once.
Victoria stood three feet away.
"Educational."
Douglas smiled.
Then became serious.
"Langford is holding the room."
Caleb nodded.
"He asked me to tell you personally the board won't vote until they have your assessment."
Victoria heard.
Caleb knew because her expression became absolutely still.
Douglas continued:
"Take whatever time you need."
"Thanks."
Caleb turned.
"Douglas, Victoria Ashbourne."
Douglas's courtesy was perfect.
"Ms. Ashbourne."
"Mr. Wren."
They shook hands.
No visible discomfort.
Professionals.
Caleb collected his gray suitcase.
Victoria's matched leather luggage arrived behind.
At baggage claim they separated.
No dramatic final line.
No threat.
No vindication.
Caleb took a car south toward Sterling Atlantic headquarters.
He had forty minutes.
He spent thirty-two writing.
Eight looking out the window.
Seattle water.
Clouds.
Traffic.
By the time he entered Sterling Atlantic's lobby, his recommendation was complete.
Victoria arrived twenty minutes before him.
Her team had assembled.
Chief technology officer.
General counsel.
Program director.
Finance executive.
She had changed physically without changing clothes.
The woman Caleb saw at the gate in Denver had projected certainty as atmosphere.
The woman in the lobby carried certainty as a tool.
Focused.
Controlled.
Purposeful.
Caleb respected the adjustment.
Everett Langford stood at the head of the boardroom.
Sixty-three.
Gray hair.
No theatrical charisma.
He believed power worked best when people did not need reminding it existed.
When Caleb entered, Everett stopped a conversation and crossed the room.
"Caleb."