“You're done.”
The Senior Officer looked toward the flag-draped transfer case.
His jaw tightened.
For the first time, anger became visible.
Not because of himself.
Because the clock was moving.
The scheduled flight would begin boarding in twenty-five minutes.
Ground transfer procedures required time.
If the connection failed, the receiving family would wait again.
He had spoken with the fallen man’s mother the previous evening.
She had only asked one question.
“Will he be alone?”
The Senior Officer had answered:
“No, ma’am.”
“I will stay with him.”
A promise.
Not ceremonial.
Personal.
The Senior Officer turned back toward the Supervisor.
“I’m asking you once more.”
The terminal quieted.
“Call the coordination number.”
The Supervisor replied:
“No.”
Something in the Senior Officer’s expression changed.
Decision.
He reached slowly toward his jacket.
Both security officers stiffened.
The Senior Officer stopped immediately.
“My phone.”
The female officer nodded.
He removed it.
The male officer said:
“Who are you calling?”
The Senior Officer looked at him.
“The person who now needs to know your airline has interrupted the transfer.”
The Supervisor scoffed.
“Call whoever you want.”
The Senior Officer selected a secure contact.
One ring.
Answer.
“This is the Senior Officer.”
His voice was different now.
Formal.
“Transfer interrupted at the commercial terminal.”
The voice on the other end asked something.
“Yes.”
He gave the airport.
Gate.
Flight.
Then:
“Airline supervisor has denied continuation but has not provided written authority or identifiable security grounds.”
Pause.
The Senior Officer looked toward the flag-draped transfer.
“Negative.”
“Remains have not moved.”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
The Senior Officer listened.
His expression never changed.
“Understood.”
He ended the call.
The Airline Supervisor smiled thinly.
“Finished?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He gestured toward security.
“Escort him out.”
The Senior Officer did not move.
The male officer stepped forward again.
Then every radio near the counter came alive almost simultaneously.
The Gate Agent’s desk phone rang.
The female Security Officer’s radio crackled.
The Supervisor’s work phone vibrated.
A second desk phone began ringing behind the counter.
Everyone froze.
The Gate Agent answered first.
Her expression changed instantly.
“Yes.”
Pause.
“Yes, this is Gate B14.”
Another pause.
She looked toward the Senior Officer.
Then toward the Supervisor.