I'm going to need to verify this with the management office. There's been some confusion. Diane felt heat rising in her chest. Confusion about what exactly? Chuck's face hardened.
Ma'am, we get people trying to access this facility all the time. Folks who think they can just drive up and get on these planes. You sure you're in the right place? Maybe you're looking for the main terminal. The implication hung in the air like poison gas.
Diane wasn't the right kind of person to be here. Her skin was the wrong color for this exclusive space. She pulled out her phone, keeping her voice level despite the rage building inside her. I'm going to call my assistant, Catherine Davis, who coordinates all my flight operations. She can confirm my identity and authorization.
Chuck shrugged. Go ahead. Diane dialed Catherine's direct line, putting the call on speaker. Catherine answered immediately. Miss Cooper, is everything all right?
Diane explained the situation, her voice tight with controlled anger. Catherine's response was sharp and professional. Sir, Diane Cooper is the owner and CEO of Cooper Technologies. She owns the Gulfream G650 registered November 650 Delta Charlie. I personally coordinated this morning's flight with Captain Richards.
If you need further verification, I can have our legal department contact your supervisor. The mention of lawyers seemed to penetrate Chuck's obstinacy. He handed back Dian's documents through the window, then walked to his booth and pressed the button to raise the gate, but he didn't apologize. He didn't acknowledge his error. His face remained set in lines of resentment as the Mercedes drove through.
Diane watched him in the side mirror, seeing him shake his head as if disgusted by something. Marcus navigated the smooth private road toward the hangar area, but the excitement Diane had felt earlier was gone, replaced by a familiar bitter taste. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that, Miss Cooper," Marcus said quietly. Diane stared out the window. It's fine, Marcus.
Just another day. But it wasn't fine. It was never fine. No matter how much money she made, no matter how many companies she built, there would always be men like Chuck who saw her skin before they saw her achievements. Hangar 7 rose before them, a massive structure of steel and glass that housed some of the most expensive aircraft in the region.
The hangar doors stood open, revealing the gleaming fuselage of Dianne's Gulfream G650. Even in her current state of frustration, she felt a surge of pride seeing it. That plane represented everything she had worked for. Every sacrifice, every late night, every moment of doubt overcome. Marcus pulled the Mercedes to a stop near the hangar entrance.
I'll get your bags, Miss Cooper. Diane stepped out of the car, straightening her jacket and squaring her shoulders. She would not let Chuck's ignorance ruin this day. She walked toward her aircraft, heels clicking on the polished concrete floor. The hanger smelled of jet fuel and cleaning products, sounds echoing in the cavernous space.
Her plane sat like a silver sculpture, perfectly positioned, stairs already deployed for boarding. Everything appeared ready for departure. Then from behind a fuel truck, a figure emerged running. Brian Kowolski, ground operations supervisor, sprinted toward her with an expression of alarm. Ma'am, stop right there.