Chapter 2 - The Red ScreenInside the gate area of Terminal 8, Gate 14 was a hive of routine efficiency.
Lead Gate Agent Sarah Miller stood behind the granite counter, typing furiously on her terminal as the final group of Main Cabin passengers scanned their boarding passes. Outside the high floor-to-ceiling glass windows, the giant Boeing 777 rested under the glare of floodlights, fuel trucks disconnecting their hoses from the wings.
Suddenly, Sarah’s computer monitor flashed once, twice, and went completely black.
A sharp, high-pitched double chime sounded from the master console at the desk.
Sarah frowned, tapping her spacebar. “What the...”
The screen didn't reboot. Instead, a solid crimson box materialized across the center of the display, overriding the global departure control software.
=====================================================
GLOBAL FLEET HOLD // EMERGENCY OPERATIONAL DIRECTIVE
AUTHORITY: COLEMAN AEROSPACE / FAA TAC-1
TAIL NUMBER: N792AA (FLIGHT 212)
STATUS: GROUNDED IMMINENT
REASON: EXECUTIVE SECURITY PROTOCOL 09
=====================================================
Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. In fourteen years at the airline, she had seen weather holds, mechanical delays, security sweeps, and customs holds. She had never seen a TAC-1 Executive Hold.
Beside her, the secondary printer behind the counter began whirring violently, spitting out three feet of thermal paper covered in bold, capitalized text.
Before Sarah could grab the paper, her desk landline rang. The caller ID displayed a number she had never seen before: 000-000-0000 (EXECUTIVE COMMAND).
She lifted the receiver with a shaking hand. “Gate 14, Miller.”
“Sarah,” a calm, icy female voice spoke instantly. “This is Director Vance, Coleman Global Security Operations. Do not push Flight 212.”
“I—we’re five minutes from closing the door—”
“The door remains open,” Vance said, her voice carrying the absolute weight of a military order. “Port Authority Police and the Regional Airport Director are entering your jet bridge right now. Clear the area around 2A immediately.”
The line went dead.
Sarah looked up. Coming down the concourse at a rapid walk were four uniformed Port Authority police officers, led personally by Airport Duty Director Raymond Cruz. Cruz looked pale, his necktie slightly askew as he held a radio tightly to his ear.
“Miller!” Cruz called out, bypassing the queuing lanes entirely. “Is 212 still hooked up?”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“Nobody touches that plane,” Cruz ordered, pushing open the jet bridge door with a heavy slam. “Follow me.”
Inside the forward galley of Flight 212, Noah, the junior flight attendant, was inspecting a beverage cart latch when his handheld terminal vibrated so hard it nearly slipped from his fingers.
He pulled it out. The screen was flashing red.
FLIGHT 212: IMMEDIATE GROUND HOLD. DO NOT TAXI. DO NOT CLOSE L1.
Noah looked up, bewildered. “Elizabeth? What’s going on with the system?”
Elizabeth Hart didn't answer him. She was staring at Zara Coleman, who had quietly tucked her titanium phone back into her burgundy bag and was standing with her hands loosely clasped behind her back, waiting.
Footsteps echoed sharply down the carpeted jet bridge outside.
Gate Agent Sarah Miller appeared in the doorway, her face drained of color, followed closely by Director Cruz and four armed Port Authority officers.
Inside the First Class cabin, Richard Bennett lowered his newspaper by two inches, his brows furrowed in annoyance. “What is the commotion out there? We’re going to miss our departure slot.”
Director Cruz didn't look at Richard. He didn't look at the other passengers. His eyes scanned the galley until they landed on the fourteen-year-old girl in the charcoal sweater.
Cruz took off his cap, holding it against his chest, and took a small, respectful step forward.
“Miss Coleman?” Cruz asked softly.
May you like
“Yes, Director,” Zara replied smoothly.
“Your father is on line one of my secure comms,” Cruz said, handing her a black satellite handset. “He’d like a word before we proceed.”
Related Stories
