Chapter 2 - The Black Disc Belonged to His Own Security Company.
The billionaire’s name was Damian Roth.
I knew that only because the flight attendant called him Mr. Roth after he told everyone in first class to stay exactly where they were.
His baby’s name was Oliver.
I learned that because Damian kept saying it while the baby cried.
“Oliver. Oliver, look at me.”
The crying changed after the blanket came off.
Not stopped.
Changed.
The terrible, trapped sound became sharp bursts every time the black disc touched his ribs.
Damian did not reach for it.
That scared me.
If it had been a button or toy, he would have ripped it away.
Instead he looked at Graham, the enormous security guard.
“Who dressed him after the lounge?”
Graham’s face went gray.
“Marisol.”
“The nanny?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
“In economy with the second security officer. She was sick after takeoff.”
Damian looked at the flight attendant.
“Do not let anyone move cabins without the captain’s approval.”
Good.
Not lock doors.
Not pretend he owned the airplane.
The flight attendant’s face tightened.
“I’ll notify the purser and captain.”
Then Damian looked at me.
“How did you know?”
I looked toward the curtain.
Maya.
Three years old.
Sleeping two rows behind it.
My only person.
I wanted to run back.
Instead I pointed at Oliver’s shirt.
“What is that?”
Damian’s jaw moved.
“A tracking tag.”
The words made my stomach fall.
“Like GPS?”
“Not exactly.”
He looked at the disc but still did not touch it.
“A short-range security beacon. It tells a compatible receiver that the tag is nearby.”
“Why is it on a baby?”
“It should not be.”
Good.
No explanation that made it normal.
“Then take it off.”
Graham said:
“Sir, we need gloves and a bag.”
Damian nodded.
The flight attendant returned with the purser and a medical kit.
They put on gloves.
Photographed the disc in place.
Then gently removed it without damaging the adhesive.
Oliver screamed once.
Then gasped.
Then, unbelievably, stopped.
Not instantly happy.
Just exhausted.
His face was red.
His body shook.
Damian lifted him.
Oliver pressed his face against his father’s chest.
The entire cabin seemed to breathe.
Damian did not.
He stared at the evidence bag.
“Blackline Series Four.”
Graham whispered.
Damian looked at him.
“You’re sure?”
“I issued them.”
There.
Issued.
Not sold in shops.
Not random.
I backed away.
Damian saw.
“Leah.”
I hated that he remembered my name.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I’m not ordering you.”
It sounded exactly like ordering.
He noticed too.
Then changed.
“Would you sit where I can ask you a few questions with the purser here?”
Better.
I looked at the purser.
A woman with silver hair and a name tag that said MONIQUE.
She nodded.
“You can go back to your sister any time.”
Good.
I sat on the edge of a seat nearest the curtain.
Damian stayed across the aisle.
Oliver slept against him now.
“How old are you?”
“Ten.”
“Where are your parents?”
My throat closed.
“My mom is missing.”
Monique’s face changed immediately.
Damian’s did too.
“Missing how long?”
“Four days.”
“Police?”
I looked down.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she told me not to.”
There.
Every adult in that first-class cabin looked horrified.
Good.
They should.
Damian’s voice got quieter.
“Tell me exactly what she told you.”
I remembered our kitchen.
Mom barefoot.
Phone in one hand.
The little black disc in a zip bag on the table.
Maya coloring circles on the floor.
Mom kneeling in front of me.
Leah, listen carefully.
“If I’m not home by Friday morning, take Maya to Aunt Celia.”
“Where?”
“Rome.”
“How?”
“The tickets are already in your email. The airline knows you’re traveling under assisted-minor service. Celia will meet you at arrivals.”
There.
That was how we were on the flight.
There had been a special desk.
A yellow lanyard.
A woman who walked us through security and onto the plane.
I hated the lanyard because it made everyone look at us.
Mom had planned every legal detail.
Except coming back.
Damian asked:
“And the disc?”
“I found it under the kitchen table.”
“When?”
“The night before Mom disappeared.”
“Did she see it?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me never to touch one with my bare hands.”
Graham looked at Damian.
That was apparently meaningful.
I continued.
“She used a spoon to put it in a plastic bag. Then she took pictures.”
“Where is it now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she take it?”
“Yes.”
Good.
“What does your mother do?”
I swallowed.
“She works with computers.”
That was how I described it.
Mom called herself a systems auditor.
I did not really know what that meant.
“She checks whether companies are lying with numbers.”
Damian went completely still.
“What is her name?”
“Natalie Hart.”
The color left his face for the second time.
Graham whispered something rude.
I stood.
“You know her.”
Damian did not answer quickly enough.
“You know my mom.”
“Yes.”
My heart pounded.
“How?”
“She consulted for Roth Meridian.”
His company.
Of course.
“What did she do?”
“Independent security audit.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“She never told me.”
“She was under confidentiality.”
I hated that word immediately.
“What was she auditing?”
Damian looked at Monique.
Then at me.
He could have said adult business.
He did not.
“Misuse of our tracking system.”
There.
The cabin got very small.
I looked at the evidence bag.
“The black discs.”
“Yes.”
My hands became cold.
“Did you make them?”
“My company did.”
“Then you did this?”
“No.”
Immediate.
Good.
Maybe true.
“How do I know?”
“You don’t.”
There.
That surprised me.
Damian continued.
“You should not trust me because I’m rich or because my son was targeted too.”
Good.
“Then who do I trust?”
Monique answered before he did.
“The captain has already contacted authorities in Rome.”
There.
Adults.
Good.
“Your aunt?”
“My mom said Celia would come.”
“Do you have her number?”
“Yes.”
Monique said:
“We can ask the captain to have operations contact her and police at arrival.”
Damian nodded.
Then his face hardened.
“And no one from my private security meets these girls without law enforcement present.”
Graham looked at him.
“Sir.”
“No.”
There.
“Whoever tagged Oliver had access to my security system.”
He looked at the black disc.
“Until we know how deep that goes, my people are not automatically safe.”
Good.
Even himself.
Then the baby woke.
He did not scream.
He made a tiny hungry noise.
I almost laughed.
“Now he’s hungry.”
Damian looked at me.
The billionaire.
Furious father.
Man who had nearly thrown me out of first class.
He gave Oliver the bottle.
The baby drank.
Damian’s eyes filled.
He turned away.
I understood.
Adults hate being wrong when the wrong thing hurts a child.
I knew because Mom sometimes cried after yelling at me.
Then Monique asked:
“Leah, where is Maya?”
“Sleeping.”
“Can I sit with her while you finish talking?”
I thought.
Then shook my head.
“I want to go back.”
Good.
I stood.
Damian did too.
“Wait.”
My body froze.
He stopped himself.
“Sorry.”
Then:
“May I ask one more question?”
I looked at Monique.
She nodded that it was my choice.
“Okay.”
Damian said:
“Did your mother ever use the name Victor Dane?”
No.
I shook my head.
“What about Aster Gate?”
Something moved in my memory.
Mom downstairs.
Office locked.
A man’s voice through the door.
You don’t understand what Aster Gate is for.
Mom answering:
I understand exactly what you turned it into.
I looked at Damian.
“Yes.”
His face changed.
“What?”
“I heard her say it.”
“Who was she talking to?”
“I don’t know.”
“Man or woman?”
“Man.”
“Did you see him?”
“No.”
“What did he say?”
I repeated.
Damian’s hand tightened around bottle.
Graham looked sick.
“What is Aster Gate?”
I asked.
Damian’s eyes went to Oliver.
Then the disc.
“It was supposed to be an emergency system.”
“What kind?”
“If a protected person was kidnapped, an Aster tag could help a security team confirm which vehicle or room they were near without broadcasting a public GPS signal.”
That made sense enough.
“Then why put it under our table?”
He looked at me.
“Because someone stopped using it to find kidnapped people.”
There.
“And started using it to watch people who never agreed to be watched.”
My stomach hurt.
Mom’s locked office.
The quiet nights.
Maya crying.
Wait.
Maya’s crying.
I stood so fast the seat belt sign light above me blurred.
“Leah?”
I pushed past the curtain.
Maya was still sleeping.
I dropped beside her.
Pulled back her blanket.
Damian followed only to the curtain.
Stopped.
Good.
I checked her shirt.
Nothing.
Her back.
Nothing.
Then her stuffed rabbit.
Battered ear.
Mom had repaired it two weeks ago.
My hands shook.
I felt along the seam.
Something hard.
Small.
Round.
Inside the rabbit.
I stopped breathing.
“Monique.”
My voice barely worked.
The purser came.
I held up Mr. Rabbit.
“There’s something inside.”
Maya woke.
“Leah?”
I hugged her.
Too hard.
She complained.
Good.
Alive.
Then I looked at Damian.
His face told me before anyone opened the toy.
May you like
We had not brought the surveillance onto his airplane by accident.
Someone had been tracking us all the way to Rome.
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