He’s aboard tonight, up in first class.

The keypad chimed again, a second attempt, and then the interphone lit and the lead flight attendant’s voice came through it pitched high with alarm, telling the captain not to open the door, that Mr.

Sterling was demanding entry to the flight deck, that he was claiming executive authority and getting louder about it with every refusal.

Maya did not know the man’s name or his face, but she knew the shape of what she was being told, and the shape was ugly.

An airplane sabotaged.