Chapter 3 - What Was Inside the Pilot’s Bag
Ethan called Grant from the hospital parking garage.
Grant answered on the second ring.
“What happened to Emma?”
His concern sounded convincing.
That made Ethan angrier.
“Where are you?”
“At the office.”
“Stay there.”
“Ethan—”
“Stay there.”
He ended the call.
Daniel was waiting beside Ethan’s truck.
“You saw the video?” Daniel asked.
Ethan nodded.
“Did you recognize the voice?”
“Yes.”
Neither man said Grant’s name.
They drove back to Northfield in silence.
The Gulfstream remained parked beside Hangar Three, its scheduled charter canceled.
Two airport police officers guarded the pilots’ briefing room.
Detective Morales met them at the door.
“We haven’t touched the bag.”
Ethan looked through the glass.
His black leather flight bag sat exactly where he had left it.
“What happens now?”
Morales handed him a consent form.
“You can voluntarily allow us to search it, or we can secure the room and seek a warrant.”
“Search it.”
Morales studied him.
“Captain, I recommend you speak with an attorney first.”
“If somebody planted evidence in there, every minute helps them.”
“That’s not legal advice.”
“I consent.”
He signed.
Morales put on gloves.
Everyone watched.
She opened the main compartment.
Uniform shirts.
Flight manuals.
A headset.
Then she reached into the narrow document sleeve.
Her hand emerged holding a white bank envelope.
She opened it.
Twenty-five thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills.
Daniel muttered, “Jesus.”
Morales placed it in an evidence bag.
Then she reached inside again.
A black encrypted USB drive.
On one side was a small company inventory sticker.
BAC-SEC-17.
Daniel stared.
“That’s from the secure operations server.”
“What’s on it?” Ethan asked.
Morales looked at him.
“You tell me.”
“I’ve never seen it before.”
A third item appeared.
A folded document.
Morales read the first page.
Her eyebrows moved slightly.
“What?”
She handed it to Ethan.
It was a confidentiality acknowledgment bearing Ethan’s name.
Underneath was a typed reference to Orion Executive Air, Bennett Aero Charter’s largest regional competitor.
The document stated that Ethan Bennett had received twenty-five thousand dollars in consulting compensation in exchange for “market intelligence concerning client movement patterns.”
At the bottom was Ethan’s signature.
Except Ethan had not signed it.
“That’s forged.”
Morales looked at him.
“Can you prove that?”
“It isn’t mine.”
Daniel pointed.
“He signs his B differently.”
Morales bagged the document.
“Someone clearly wanted it discovered.”
Ethan’s phone vibrated.
Grant.
He declined.
It rang again.
Then came a text.
COME TO MY OFFICE BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING ELSE.
Ethan showed Daniel.
Daniel shook his head.
“That’s not ominous at all.”
Grant’s office occupied the second floor above the private terminal.
When Ethan entered, Grant was standing behind Robert Bennett’s old walnut desk.
Their father’s photograph hung on the wall.
Victoria Carter was not there.
Grant looked exhausted.
“What the hell were you thinking, consenting to a search?”
Ethan closed the door.
“What was I thinking?”
“You should have called company counsel.”
“Victoria is company counsel.”
“She’s COO. Outside counsel handles criminal matters.”
Ethan walked forward.
“Emma recorded her planting the cash.”
Grant’s mouth tightened.
“Children misunderstand things.”
“She recorded your voice.”
That landed.
For half a second, Grant’s expression disappeared entirely.
Then it returned.
“My voice?”
“‘Make sure he’s the one carrying it when they find it.’”
Grant walked to the window.
“You’re under stress.”
“Look at me.”
Grant did not.
Ethan’s chest tightened.
His brother had always done that when they were boys.
When Grant lied to their father, he looked toward windows.
Doors.
Anywhere but directly at the person he was betraying.
“Why?” Ethan asked.
Grant finally turned.
“Because you are about to destroy this company.”
Ethan stared at him.
Grant spread his hands.
“Crestmont is offering ninety-six million dollars. Ninety-six. You keep blocking the sale because you have some romantic idea that Dad wanted us running a family airline forever.”
“It isn’t an airline.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I asked for an audit.”
“And you think that makes you a hero?”
“It makes me a shareholder.”
Grant’s face darkened.
“You have no idea what is coming due.”
Ethan heard the sentence.
Not what was owed.
What was coming due.
“What did you do?”
Grant stepped closer.
“Sell your shares.”
“No.”
“Take thirty million and walk away.”
“You just planted evidence to have me fired.”
Grant’s voice dropped.
“You don’t know what was planted by whom.”
“I heard you.”
“On a six-year-old’s phone recording?”
“Yes.”
Grant laughed once without humor.
“Good luck building a federal case out of that.”
Ethan’s hands curled.
Grant leaned nearer.
“Listen to me carefully. Victoria made a terrible mistake with Emma. I will deal with that.”
“You will deal with it?”
“But you need to think about your daughters now.”
The threat was subtle.
Which made it worse.
Ethan’s face went cold.
“Say that again.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“Say my daughters’ names again.”
Grant stepped back.
For the first time, there was fear between them.
Not brotherly anger.
Fear.
Grant reached into his desk and removed a folder.
He slid it across.
“Effective immediately, you are suspended from flight duties pending investigation into theft of company data and possible disclosure of confidential passenger information.”
Ethan did not touch the folder.
Grant continued.
“Under Section Twelve of the shareholder agreement, termination for specified criminal misconduct gives the company the right to redeem your shares at adjusted book value.”
“How much?”
“Approximately five-point-four million.”
Ethan almost laughed.
“My shares are worth over thirty million under your own sale offer.”
“Then you should have agreed to the sale.”
Ethan looked down at the folder.
The trap was suddenly visible.
The planted cash.
The stolen USB.
The forged agreement.
The suspension.
The forced redemption.
Grant did not merely want him out of the cockpit.
He wanted his ownership.
Ethan looked at the photograph of their father.
Robert Bennett had once told them both, Never let money turn your brother into a stranger.
Ethan had thought it was advice.
Now it sounded like a warning.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Daniel.
CAMERA ADMIN LOG FOUND.
Ethan opened it.
Daniel had attached a screenshot.
At 2:27 p.m.—one minute before Emma was rescued—someone had remotely deleted fourteen minutes of security footage.
The login name was clearly visible.
GBENNETT_ADMIN.
Grant Bennett.
Ethan slowly raised his eyes.
May you like
Grant saw the screen.
And stopped pretending.
