She stared at him. Today, he said. She turned back to her workstation and started typing faster. Malcolm walked back to his desk. He sat down.
He looked at the binder. He thought about what Daniel had said. People who will tell you the truth. Four names, three gone. He picked up the binder and opened it to page one.
He started reading from the beginning, not because he didn't know what was in it, but because he wanted to be certain, absolutely irrevocably certain, the way he was always certain before he put his name on something. Because his name meant something. It always had. And for the first time in a long time, the rest of the world was beginning to understand exactly why. Frank Delgado arrived at Hayes Arowworks at 3:47 in the afternoon, driving a plain government sedan that looked like it had logged enough miles to have its own retirement plan.
He was a compact man in his early 60s, gray at the temples, with the kind of unhurried movements that belonged to someone who had learned a long time ago that urgency and speed were not the same thing. He shook Malcolm's hand, looked around the shop once without comment, and accepted the cup of coffee Rachel offered him without any of the performative reluctance some federal people showed when they were trying to establish authority. He sat down across from Malcolm's desk, put a manila folder on the table, and said, "Show me what you've got." Malcolm laid the binder open between them. He didn't walk Delgato through it the way he'd walked Victoria through it, not step by step, not building toward a conclusion. He just turned to tab 4 and let the investigator read.
And Frank Delgado read the way Malcolm had hoped he would read thoroughly without interrupting turning pages at a pace that suggested he wasn't skimming, wasn't looking for headlines. He was reading the actual data. After 11 minutes, Delgato looked up the 2019 rejection record. He said, "Where did you source this FAA component traceability database?" Malcolm said. Rachel Kim, my avionics specialist, pulled it using the serial number.
The component in the aircraft is listed under batch number 7741C. That entire batch was flagged for alloy composition failure and was supposed to be destroyed before it entered any supply chain. Supposed to be, Delgato said. Supposed to be, Malcolm agreed. Delgato turned to Tab 7.
He looked at the Apex Vector procurement records for a long time. His expression didn't change exactly, but something around his eyes got very focused and very still. The way a hunting dog goes still when it catches a scent. It's been following for a long time. Mr.
Hayes, he said quietly. How long have you been in private aviation? 19 Years. Have you worked with Apex Vector Components before this contract? Seen them in two other aircraft over the years.
Malcolm said. Both times the documentation looked legitimate. I had no reason to question them. But this time, this time the serial number didn't match, Malcolm said. Not a red flag I was looking for, just something that happened to catch my eye because I cross reference every part number against the manufacturer database when I'm doing a full restoration.
Some mechanics don't. I do. Delgato nodded slowly. He closed the binder, but he kept his hand on it like he didn't want to let it get far. "I'm going to tell you something, Mr.