Serve him the champagne. Apologize before this gets before this gets what, Greg? Diane snapped the tray into the rack. I'm not apologizing to a man who doesn't belong in my cabin. End of discussion.
Greg closed his mouth, and for the second time that flight, he chose to follow orders he knew were wrong. In seat 2C, Harold Bennett was also waiting. He had uncrossed his legs. His book was closed on his lap, bookmark in place. His hands were resting on the armrests with the casual readiness of a man who had seen the opening act and knew the main event was about to start.
Harold had watched Isaiah make the call. He hadn't heard the words. Isaiah's voice had been too low, too controlled for that. But Harold had been reading body language in courtrooms for four decades. And he knew exactly what a calm phone call from a powerful person looked like.
No raised voice, no trembling hands, no long explanations, just instructions delivered like someone placing an order. That call lasted less than 90 seconds. Whatever Isaiah Carter had set in motion, it was already done. Harold looked at Diane through the gap in the galley curtain. She was still talking to Greg, still confident, still smiling.
He almost felt sorry for her. Almost. Somewhere above the Atlantic seabboard at 37,000 ft, the cockpit communication system received an incoming transmission from Prestige Atlantic Airlines headquarters. Priority level immediate. The captain reached for his headset.
The message was four sentences long. He read it twice. Then he unbuckled his harness and stood up. The cockpit door opened. Captain James Witford had been flying commercial aircraft for 26 years.
He had handled engine failures, medical emergencies, bomb threats, and once over the Pacific, a passenger who tried to open an exit door at 40,000 ft. In all of those situations, his pulse had stayed below 80. Right now, walking into the first class cabin of flight 2261, his pulse was at 94. He'd read the message from headquarters three times, not twice, three. Because the first two times he was certain there had been a mistake.
There hadn't. Diane saw him first. She stepped out of the galley with the posture of someone who had been expecting this. The captain coming to deal with the difficult passenger just as she'd wanted from the beginning. She straightened her scarf, adjusted her name badge, folded her hands.
Captain, thank you for coming out. The passenger in 2A has been Miss Asheford. Captain Witford's voice cut through hers like a blade through silk. He didn't raise it. He didn't need to.
26 Years of authority sat in every syllable. Please stop talking. Dian's mouth stayed open for a half second longer than it should have. Then it closed. The captain stepped into the center of the first class cabin.