Chapter 4 - The Cargo Manifest
"Marcus," I said, my voice completely steady despite the cold panic pooling in my stomach. "Call the ramp tower. Tell them to ground Flight 412 indefinitely for a mandatory mechanical inspection."
"We can't do that," Marcus muttered, keeping his voice low so the officers at the door couldn't hear. "If we issue an unscheduled mechanical hold without prior clearance from the FAA regional office, the port authority will impound the aircraft within the hour. It triggers an automatic federal investigation."
"Exactly," I replied, holding his gaze. "Which is precisely what we want."
Victoria’s smug expression flickered for the first time. "You're bluffing. You wouldn't invite federal investigators onto your own plane. That destroys public confidence in Apex overnight."
"Public confidence is already destroyed if our planes are being used to smuggle cargo for corrupt politicians," I said, turning to Robert Chen. "Robert, call federal prosecutor Miller at the U.S. Attorney's office in Los Angeles. Tell him we are invoking corporate whistleblower exemption under the Sarbanes-Oxley Act. We have unverified, unauthorized cargo containers in the hold of Flight 412, and our own internal audit team discovered ties to Senator Alan Bradley's holding company."
Robert blinked, his legal mind immediately calculating the fallout. "Karen, if we go the federal whistleblower route, the media will have this by noon. Our stock value will drop at least thirty percent when the markets open."
"Let it drop," I said firmly. "Better a thirty percent drop today than total liquidation when the feds uncover a full-blown smuggling ring operating under our flag next month. We clean house right here, right now, on our terms—not theirs."
Victoria lunged forward, her professional composure finally shattering completely. "You can't do that! Thomas will—Thomas has people who—"
"Thomas is a retired bureaucrat living on a golf course in Boca Raton who thinks he's still running a regional airline like a mafia syndicate," I interrupted, stepping right up to her. "He forgot one very important thing: the people he crushed twelve years ago didn't go away. We learned how the system works. We bought the stock, we hired the best legal minds, and we stopped being afraid of bullies in navy-blue uniforms."
Officer Miller, sensing that the situation had escalated far beyond a simple seat dispute, stepped into the galley with his hand resting cautiously on his belt. "Ma'ai—uh, Madam Chairwoman? Do you want us to take her into custody now?"
"Not yet," I said, looking back at Victoria. "Let her make her phone call."
Victoria froze. "What?"
"You heard me," I said, gesturing to the heavy titanium smartphone clutched in her trembling white knuckles. "You have an encrypted messaging app open on your screen—the one you've been using to update your handlers about my seat assignment since we left Chicago. Go ahead. Call Thomas. Tell him the audit hit the front line, tell him the feds are being called, and ask him how his golden parachute feels when it's tied to an anchor."
Victoria’s breath hitched. She looked down at her phone, then back at me, her eyes wide with sudden, unadulterated terror. She finally realized that I wasn't just a rich executive playing corporate games; I was someone who had nothing left to lose and everything to reclaim.
Slowly, her thumb hovered over the screen. But before she could tap the call button, the cabin speaker above our heads clicked on with a sharp hiss of static, followed by a voice that none of us expected to hear.
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"Gate 42 to First Class cabin. This is Captain Reynolds. We just received an urgent priority override from corporate headquarters. Mr. Thomas Vance has just landed at LAX on a private charter, and he is currently demanding immediate access to the jet bridge."
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