Then someone behind me said:
“Colonel Mitchell?”
I turned.
Three people were approaching.
FAA investigators.
One introduced himself.
“Ma’am, we need to speak with you about what happened onboard.”
“Captain Reed is the pilot in command.”
“We’ll speak with him too.”
His expression was strange.
Not celebratory.
Serious.
“There’s something else.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Maintenance personnel have started examining the aircraft.”
My stomach tightened.
“And?”
He lowered his voice.
“The hydraulic failure may not have been accidental.”
Emily stopped crying.
I stared at him.
“What did you find?”
“We’re not ready to make a determination.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
He looked toward the aircraft.
“Because preliminary evidence suggests components connected to more than one hydraulic circuit were tampered with.”
Silence.
Captain Reed had walked close enough to hear.
His face drained.
“Tampered?”
The investigator nodded carefully.
“We’re preserving the aircraft as a potential crime scene.”
Jennifer whispered:
“Sabotage?”
“No conclusions yet.”
But the word was already hanging there.
Sabotage.
I looked back at the 737.
Then something occurred to me.
“Passenger manifest.”
The investigator frowned.
“What about it?”
“Was it public before departure?”
“No.”
“Crew list?”
“Limited access.”
“Maintenance had access?”
He didn’t answer.
I looked at Emily.
Then at Reed.
Then at the airplane.
Thirty-two years earlier, engineers had concealed a known failure on the Wraith because billions of dollars were at stake.
Now, on the first flight I had taken in decades, multiple hydraulic systems had failed under suspicious circumstances.
Maybe coincidence.
I had spent enough of my life around intelligence officers and test programs to know coincidence exists.
But I also knew when coincidence deserved to be interrogated.
The investigator’s phone rang.
He walked several yards away to answer it.
Then stopped.
Turned toward me.
His expression had changed.
He came back slowly.
“Colonel Mitchell.”
“What?”
“You said your call sign was Phoenix?”
I felt Emily’s hand tighten around mine.
“Yes.”
The investigator held up an evidence photograph on his phone.
A maintenance access panel had been opened beneath the aircraft.
Inside, investigators had found a small strip of red tape attached beside one compromised component.
Someone had written one word on it with black marker.
PHOENIX.
My entire body went cold.
Captain Reed whispered:
“Sarah…”
But I wasn’t listening anymore.
Because suddenly Flight 2891 didn’t feel like an accident I happened to survive.
It felt like a message.
