Edward reached into his jacket.
Then paused.
He could end it here.
His company credential identified him.
So did his driver’s license, though his name alone might not trigger recognition.
He decided to hand her the driver’s license first.
Vivian read it.
EDWARD JAMES WHITAKER.
Her face showed no recognition.
That did not surprise him.
Executives at headquarters knew him.
Frontline employees often knew the name.
But he rarely appeared in company advertising.
He hated that kind of vanity.
Vivian looked at the address.
Rural Virginia.
Then handed the license back.
“This doesn’t establish lounge access.”
“No.”
“Do you have a boarding credential?”
“Yes.”
“Let me see it.”
Edward removed a folded document.
Not a normal boarding pass.
Private aviation manifest confirmation.
Aircraft tail number.
Departure time.
Destination.
Passenger:
Edward J. Whitaker.
Vivian studied it.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Where did you get this?”
Edward looked at her.
“From the company.”
“Anyone can print something.”
“True.”
Vivian looked at Melissa.
“Check the tail number.”
Melissa took the document.
Typed into her tablet.
Her face changed almost immediately.
She looked toward Vivian.
“It matches.”
Vivian frowned.
“What matches?”
“The aircraft.”
“So?”
“The tail number is scheduled to depart at eleven twenty.”
“Passengers?”
Melissa hesitated.
Edward watched her.
She looked increasingly uncomfortable.
“Manifest is restricted.”
Vivian stared.
“I have Director access.”
“Not for this aircraft.”
That should have told Vivian something.
Instead, it irritated her.
“Then call operations.”
Melissa nodded.
Vivian took the tablet from her.
“No.”
Melissa stopped.
Edward noticed.
Again.
Preventing verification.
That pattern felt familiar.
Vivian returned the folded confirmation.
“I’m going to ask you to leave.”
Edward stared.
“You just confirmed the aircraft exists.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re authorized to be here.”
“My name is on the document.”
“A printed name.”
“My driver’s license matches.”
Vivian’s face hardened.
“You’re becoming argumentative.”
Edward smiled slightly.
“I’m sitting.”
The banker two chairs away looked down at his phone.
His shoulders moved.
Suppressing laughter.
Vivian turned toward him.
The banker immediately went still.
Edward almost admired her ability to control a room through discomfort.
Almost.
Vivian looked back.
“I’m giving you an opportunity to leave quietly.”
Edward looked toward the jet.
Rain traced diagonal lines across the glass.
“Is the aircraft fueled?”
Vivian stared.
“What?”
“The jet.”
“Is it fueled?”