Daniel paused. There were people behind him now. He could feel them watching. He lowered his voice. "Could I speak to your supervisor?"
Claire laughed. Not loudly. But enough for several passengers to hear. "Of course."
She picked up the phone. For a second, Daniel thought she was actually calling someone. Instead, she put the phone down. Then she looked at him. "The supervisor isn't available."
Daniel knew that was a lie. He had checked the duty roster that morning. There were two supervisors assigned to Terminal Four. Both were working. He decided to give her one last opportunity. "Could you please check the reservation one more time?"
Claire stared at him. Then something changed in her expression. Maybe she was tired. Maybe she was angry. Maybe she simply didn't like being questioned. Whatever the reason, she reached for the printed ticket. Daniel watched her fingers close around it. Then she tore it. Once. Twice. The sound was sharp. Several people nearby turned. Claire dropped the pieces into the trash. "There."
Daniel stared at her. She folded her arms. "Now you don't have a ticket."
The terminal seemed to become strangely quiet. Daniel looked at the trash. Then at Claire. "You just tore my ticket."
"You didn't have a valid reservation."
"I paid for it."
"And the system rejected it."
"You could have returned it."
"You don't need it anymore."
Daniel studied her. There was no anger in his face. That seemed to make Claire more uncomfortable. He simply asked:
"Do you know who I am?"
Claire gave a small, dismissive smile. "No."
Daniel nodded. "Good."
Claire frowned. "Excuse me?"
"You don't know who I am."
"No."
"That's useful."
She stared at him. Daniel turned away from the counter. He didn't argue. He didn't threaten her. He didn't call anyone. He simply walked toward a nearby seating area and sat down. Claire watched him. She seemed confused. Perhaps she expected him to shout. Perhaps she expected him to demand a manager. Instead, Daniel sat quietly. He looked at his watch. 9:18. Then he waited. Five minutes passed. Ten. Claire continued checking in passengers. Daniel watched. A few people glanced at him. One elderly man whispered to his wife. "Did she really tear his ticket?"
The woman nodded. "Yes."
Daniel heard them. He said nothing. At 9:31, a man in a navy airline uniform hurried toward Counter 17. He was in his forties. Tall. Clean-shaven. His badge read:
ROBERT KLINE — DUTY SUPERVISOR