“You planned an inspection.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Two weeks.”
“You didn't tell me.”
“That was the point.”
Elaine leaned forward.
“This trip was deliberate?”
“The Charlotte meeting is real.”
“But I chose Atlanta departure because complaints from the private terminal have increased.”
Nicholas frowned.
“What complaints?”
Avery looked at him.
“You don't know?”
“No.”
That answer troubled her more than Vanessa.
Avery opened another page.
“Seven employee resignations in five months.”
“Three anonymous complaints about passenger profiling.”
“Two reports of tips being redirected.”
“One allegation that preferred clients receive waived handling fees while minority-owned charter companies are billed at full rate plus undocumented surcharges.”
Nicholas stared.
“I've never seen those.”
“I know.”
Elaine asked:
“Where did you get them?”
“Directly.”
“How?”
“Someone mailed them to my home.”
That silenced both.
Avery had given almost nobody her residential mailing address.
Elaine said:
“Who?”
“No name.”
Nicholas frowned.
“What did the package say?”
Avery pulled a folded copy from the notebook.
Elaine read.
If you want to know what your company is becoming, stop arriving like the owner.
Nicholas leaned back.
“And you did.”
“Yes.”
“You changed your hair.”
“Yes.”
“Wardrobe.”
“Yes.”
“No assistant.”
“Yes.”
Elaine looked toward the rear of the aircraft.
“And within fifteen minutes someone shoved you away from your own jet.”
Avery closed the notebook.
“That is not the part that worries me most.”
“What does?”
“The employees.”
Nicholas frowned.
“They witnessed it.”
“They also looked terrified before they spoke.”
Nobody argued.
Avery turned toward the window again.
“Find out what they're afraid of.”
Vanessa remained at work.
Barely.
Twenty minutes after Violet One departed, an email arrived from corporate security.
Your access remains active. You are directed not to contact witnesses regarding today’s incident. Continue routine operations pending interview at 5:00 p.m.
Routine operations.
Vanessa reread the phrase.
Her hands would not stop shaking.
She went into her office.
Closed the blinds.
Locked the door.
Then immediately called someone.
Not her attorney.
Not her husband.
Not human resources.
She called Regional Vice President Bradley Walsh.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“What?”
Vanessa whispered:
“We have a problem.”
Bradley sighed.
“You always think we have a problem.”
“Avery Brooks came through Atlanta.”
Silence.
“When?”
“Today.”
Another pause.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she announce it?”
“No.”