“Captain Carter, we have an acquisition meeting in Tokyo that cannot be moved.”
Ethan said, “Then the meeting will occur late.”
“You just said you have no evidence of actual fire.”
“I said I have no corroborating evidence.”
“That is not the same as evidence of fire.”
“No.”
“It is evidence that a system designed to warn me about fire may not be reliable.”
Harold’s jaw tightened.
Victoria touched intercom.
“Anchorage.”
Ethan paused.
“Confirmed.”
She ended it.
Harold stared at her.
“You’re accepting this without challenge?”
“I challenged nine pilots into unemployment.”
“Ethan is still here because I know which arguments are mine.”
Harold leaned back.
“You are risking the Kestrel deal.”
Victoria’s voice sharpened.
“I am not trading engine uncertainty for punctuality.”
That ended it.
The next two hours were controlled and unpleasant.
The warning appeared three more times.
Each time brief.
Each time without supporting heat indications.
Ethan reduced power.
Reconfigured.
Coordinated with dispatch and maintenance.
The cabin became quiet in the way people become quiet when they realize confidence is mostly borrowed from the professionals behind a closed door.
Victoria worked anyway.
At least she pretended.
Her eyes returned repeatedly to the bulkhead separating cabin from cockpit.
The third warning lasted twelve seconds.
Long enough for her palms to become damp.
Mara noticed.
“Victoria?”
“I’m fine.”
Mara had worked for her seven years.
She knew the lie.
She also knew better than to expose it.
Thirty minutes outside Anchorage, Ethan came through the intercom.
“We’ll be on the ground shortly.”
“Emergency vehicles may meet us.”
“That is precautionary.”
“Cabin secure in fifteen.”
His voice remained level.
Victoria closed her laptop.
Harold watched her.
“You trust him.”
She looked toward him.
“He hasn’t given me a reason not to.”
Harold said nothing.
The landing was clean.
No drama.
No smoke.
No fire trucks racing beside them.
The aircraft rolled to a stop on an isolated section of private aviation ramp.
Only after the engines shut down did Victoria realize how tightly she had been gripping the armrest.
Her fingers hurt.
The cabin door opened.
Cold Alaska air entered.
Ground crews approached.
Ethan appeared from the cockpit.
His eyes found Victoria first.
“You all right?”
Not “everyone.”
Her.
Victoria nodded.
“Are we on fire?”
“No.”
“Then improve your bedside manner.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
“There she is.”
“Who?”
“The terrifying woman I work for.”
Harold passed behind Ethan.
“We need another aircraft.”
Ethan turned.
“No one leaves until I understand the warning.”
Harold stopped.
“We have three company jets within repositioning range.”
“Use one later.”
“I need the passengers transferred now.”
Ethan looked toward him.
“You can transfer yourself whenever you want.”
“My responsibility is this aircraft.”
Harold’s expression cooled.
Victoria interrupted.
“Enough.”
She looked at Ethan.
“What do you need?”
“Thirty minutes before anybody touches that left nacelle except independent maintenance.”
Harold frowned.
“Why independent?”
Ethan glanced toward him.
“Because I want a clean chain.”
Something in those words changed the room.
Victoria heard it.
So did Harold.
“What are you implying?” Harold asked.
Ethan’s answer was calm.
“Nothing yet.”
That was worse.
Victoria transferred to her wheelchair and descended using the accessibility lift.
The tarmac was wet from melting sleet.
Airport service lights reflected across it.
A line of black vehicles waited beyond the jet.
Mara walked beside Victoria.
Harold spoke with local support staff.