Ethan remained relaxed.
“I haven't made one.”
“You keep implying—”
“Sit down, Harold.”
Victoria’s voice cut through.
He looked at her.
She repeated softly.
“Sit.”
He did.
The room went still.
Victoria had spent years learning that volume was usually compensation.
Real authority could whisper.
She said:
“From now on, nobody touches maintenance records.”
“No deletion.”
“No revision.”
“No phone replacement.”
“No device wiping.”
Thomas nodded.
“I’ll issue litigation hold.”
Harold stared at her.
“You’re treating us like criminals.”
“No.”
“I’m treating this like evidence.”
“That distinction matters.”
Ethan glanced toward her.
Approval.
She noticed.
Annoyingly.
Independent technicians inspected the jet.
The connector was wrong.
Not visibly wrong.
Functionally.
A cheaper aftermarket unit had been installed inside a casing carrying a legitimate manufacturer label.
Its internal resistance fluctuated under temperature changes.
At altitude, cold exposure increased instability.
Exactly matching the warnings.
A random defective part was possible.
Counterfeit substitution was more likely.
Then came second finding.
The technician removed the fire-detection loop assembly and found a small monitoring bridge wired into the circuit.
Not factory.
Not approved.
A device capable of altering resistance intermittently.
Ethan stared.
“That can create warning on command.”
The technician nodded.
“Potentially.”
Victoria was standing beside aircraft now with Mara and Thomas.
Harold remained inside conference suite under instructions from legal.
Victoria asked:
“Remote?”
“Short-range programmable.”
“How short?”
“Depending configuration, hundred yards.”
She looked around tarmac.
SUVs.
Service vehicles.
Buildings.
Ethan said:
“Could also be timer.”
Technician nodded.
They pulled device.
Serial number removed.
But casing had microscopic machining marks.
Manufacturer could perhaps be traced.
Thomas said:
“This is no longer maintenance negligence.”
Victoria looked toward Ethan.
He did not say I told you so.
She appreciated that.
Her phone rang.
Mara answered first.
Then handed it.
“Seattle security.”
Victoria listened.
Julian Marks's office was empty.
Laptop gone.
Company badge found in desk drawer.
Home address empty.
Neighbor reported he left with luggage the previous evening.
Victoria ended call.
Thomas said:
“He ran.”
Harold might be innocent.
Julian might have used code without permission.
Victoria repeated that internally.
She wanted it true.
Then Mara approached quietly.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Finance flagged NorthStar Technical.”
Victoria waited.
“Vendor was incorporated six months ago in Nevada.”
“Ownership?”
“Layered LLC.”
“Who paid them?”
“Sterling.”
“How much?”
“Four hundred eighty thousand over six months.”
Victoria’s eyes narrowed.
“For what?”
“Consulting.”
“Which department?”
Mara hesitated.
“Strategic operations.”
Harold.
Of course.
Victoria rolled back toward conference suite.