Chapter 3 - An Internal Audit
The seventh-floor conference room of the Federal Aviation Administration headquarters smelled of dry-erase markers and stale chicory coffee. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, the lights of downtown Washington shimmered against the damp autumn night.
Lucy stood at the white board, staring at a complex flowchart mapping out Apex Airlines' regional maintenance schedules across the Midwest. Her senior investigator, David Garza, sat at the end of the mahogany table, methodically flipping through a stack of printed telemetry reports.
"Pendelton's office called three times this afternoon," David said without looking up. "They’re asking if Monday's meeting can be moved to virtual. They want to handle it via secure video conference."
Lucy capped her marker with a sharp snap. "Tell them no. In-person or not at all."
"I figured you'd say that." David tossed a file onto the table. "I also ran the tail number of the aircraft we flew on Friday. N412AP. Guess what maintenance records show signed off on a secondary hydraulic valve replacement in Chicago forty-eight hours before we boarded?"
Lucy walked over to the table and picked up the maintenance sheet. "Let me guess. Not a certified Apex mechanic."
"Worse," David said. "An outside contractor subcontracted by an LLC that shares a registered address with Arthur Pendelton's personal holding company. The part installed wasn't standard OEM spec either. It was an aftermarket refurbished valve."
Lucy stared at the paper. The pieces were starting to snap together, forming a picture much larger and uglier than a petty seating downgrade. An airline cutting corners on hydraulic components on regional routes wasn't just a regulatory infraction—it was a systemic safety evasion. And Apex's executive leadership knew it. That was why Arthur Pendelton had needed to fly unobserved, and why Lucy had been exiled to row thirty-eight. They weren't just hiding paperwork; they were hiding hardware.
"They're bypassing standard supply chain tracking," Lucy murmured. "If an FAA inspector sat next to Arthur on that flight, or if I had been up front where I belonged, I might have noticed the baggage tag discrepancy or overheard his conversation with the regional director about parts inventory."
"Or," David added grimly, "they wanted to send a message. A subtle reminder of who really controls the cabin."
"Bumping the FAA Director to the back row isn't subtle, David. It's reckless." Lucy walked back to her desk and picked up her landline. "Get the regional field office in Chicago on the secure line. I want an unannounced physical inspection of hangar four at O'Hare first thing tomorrow morning. No advance notice. No paperwork trail until our inspectors are physically inside the facility."
David raised an eyebrow. "That's going to trigger an immediate legal pushback from Apex's legal counsel. They'll claim jurisdictional overreach."
"Let them try," Lucy said, her voice steel-cold. "If they want to challenge federal oversight over substandard hydraulic valves, they can explain it to the Transportation Subcommittee on Capitol Hill."
Before David could respond, a soft chime interrupted them. The office door buzzed, signaling an incoming visitor at the secure reception desk.
May you like
David checked his tablet. "That's strange. Security says it's Marcus Vance. He's downstairs in the lobby, and he says he needs to speak with you off the record."
Lucy paused, her hand hovering over the phone. Marcus didn't leave Chicago on a Friday night unless something catastrophic had happened.
