Robert pulled up the gate schedule. Nothing. No flight. No boarding. No crew. No maintenance assignment. The gate shouldn't have been connected to the live network. Yet the unauthorized access was coming from there. Daniel looked at Robert. "Who's supposed to have access to Gate 41?"
"Maintenance."
"Anyone else?"
"Security."
"Operations?"
"Normally, yes."
"Who accessed it this morning?"
Robert searched. The results appeared. His face changed. "What?"
Robert slowly turned the screen. "Your account."
Daniel stared. "What time?"
"8:03."
"I arrived at 7:50."
"Yes."
"I was in the public terminal."
Robert looked at him. "Then your account was active before you even reached Counter 17."
Daniel said nothing. Claire looked frightened. "So whoever is doing this was already inside the system before you arrived."
Daniel nodded. "Yes."
Robert asked:
Inside the archive office, a dusty cabinet stood beneath a security camera whose green light had been covered with black tape. Robert said it was an old maintenance issue. Daniel peeled the tape back. On the cabinet door somebody had scratched four initials into the paint: T.C., E.V., R.K., and one set too faint to read. Robert stared at his own initials. “I didn't do that.” Daniel did not accuse him. He opened the notebook instead and found an entry dated the day Thomas Cross's access was revoked. A notation read: physical copy delivered; digital copy disputed. He photographed the cabinet without opening it. “If this is evidence,” he told Robert, “we will need someone independent to see the seal broken.” Claire had been standing quietly behind them. For the first time she said something without being asked: “I know who holds the key.”
"Did you know this was happening?"
Daniel looked at him. "I suspected something."
Claire stared. "You suspected someone was using your account?"
"Not exactly."
"What did you suspect?"
Daniel looked at the monitor. "That someone was manipulating the airport's passenger records."
Robert frowned. "Why?"