I never realized the most difficult part of a private flight was having nowhere to go.
On the ground, I could always step away into another room, a task to do, or the view outside from a car window. Up here there was only the cabin, two seats, and the steady hum of the engines.
I kept my laptop open and worked on the Hargreave notes. I organized everything from the dinner and matched it against the documentary evidence. The connections fit perfectly. The work was solid.
But, I couldn't explain why it felt so heavy.
About forty minutes in, Adrian set his book down.
“What did you think of Hargreave?”
I finished typing my sentence first.
“Competent,” I said. “He knows how to handle people.”
He looked at me.
I kept my face calm and showed him nothing.
He turned toward the window. “H
