Vance didn’t apologize. He looked down with a barely perceptible smile. “Apparently, military training doesn’t include beverage handling.” A few nearby passengers turned expectantly. I looked at the dark stain spreading on my jacket. “It happens.”
A look of disappointment flashed across his face.
Then I saw his laptop.
Black. Thin. Business model. First, he opened a movie window, but that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was the Wi-Fi icon at the top of the screen and the folder he’d accidentally clicked on when turbulence had given him a gentle nudge to the wrist.
DoD_SYS_A12 He quickly fixed it, but not before I saw an email header pop up. External domain. Unfamiliar. Not good.
Defense companies don’t connect sensitive work devices to public Wi-Fi networks on airplanes unless they’re reckless, stupid, or dirty. Vance wasn’t stupid.
I kept a straight face and tapped the phone in my pocket without taking it out. A single command. Silent shutter started. The plane jolted so hard it shook the overhead lockers. Then even harder.
The seatbelt light came back on. Nervous laughter spread intermittently through the cabin. Somewhere near row twenty, a child began to cry. The impeccable voice of a flight attendant sounded over the intercom.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats immediately.” From first class, I heard Chloe raise her voice above everyone else. “You can’t just leave us without giving us information.”
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