Clearance Level Omega

At 9:31 AM, the door to Duty Office 12 banged open. Robert Kline rushed into the hall, sweat beading along his clean-shaven jawline.

Robert Kline arrived at Counter 17 with a radio bouncing against his belt. Beads of sweat lined his jawline.

“What seems to be the disruption here?” Kline asked.

Claire pointed an acrylic fingernail at Daniel. “Unconfirmed voucher. Refused to step aside.”

Daniel stepped up to the counter. He rubbed the scar above his right eyebrow.

“Look up the name,” Daniel said. “Daniel Cross.”

Kline tapped the keys with two fingers. Before pressing enter, he yanked a privacy hood over the monitor, turning the screen away from the queue.

The flat panel emitted three chimes.

The passenger manifest flickered out. Blue filled the glass, followed by block text in black and red:

AUTHORIZED ACCESS LEVEL: OMEGA
DIRECTOR OF AIRPORT OPERATIONS

Kline pulled his hands back from the keyboard as if the plastic were hot. He looked at Daniel’s faded jacket, then up to his face.

“Sir,” Kline whispered.

Claire leaned forward, squinting past the hood. Her lips parted, and color drained from her neck.

Daniel did not raise his voice. He reached past the counter, dipped his hand into the desk bin, and drew out the four fragments of his paper ticket.

He laid them flat on the black laminate, lining the edges together.

“Mr. Cross,” Kline stammered. “I apologize for agent Donovan. The terminal rules—”

“Don’t blame her,” Daniel said. “She chases the speed metrics you reward.”

Claire kept her palms flat against the desk. Her fingers trembled against the counter edge.

A red light flashed on the base of Kline’s monitor. A chime sounded twice, followed by a security alert across the blue field.

EXEC CARD USE: GATE 41 / TIME: 08:03 AM / ACCESS: CROSS, D.

Kline stared at the screen. “Gate 41 is decommissioned. And you were standing in this line at eight o’clock.”