Greer hadn't moved from his spot near the door. His face had gone from red to white to a shade of gray that belonged on a hospital wall. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the morning air being cool. His belly, which had pressed so confidently against his uniform shirt all morning, now seemed to sag, like the air had been let out of him.
Simone stopped three feet in front of him. She didn't step closer; she didn't need to.
"Captain Greer."
He swallowed. "Ms... Ms. Fletcher, I—"
"I'm going to ask you three questions. I'd like honest answers."
Greer's mouth worked; no sound came out. Behind him, Linda Marsh had appeared at the aircraft door. Her face was the color of milk. Her hands gripped the doorframe so hard her knuckles were white.
Simone's voice stayed calm, measured, the same tone she used in boardrooms when a contractor tried to overbill her by six figures.
"Question one: On what basis did you order security to physically remove me from seat 1A and relocate me to the back of this aircraft?"
Silence. Greer's eyes moved to Nolan, to Patricia, to Garrett, looking for help, finding none.
"I... there was a... Mr. Ashland was a priority client, and I made a judgment call based on—"
"Based on what, Captain? My boarding pass was valid. My ticket was paid. What specific factor led you to decide I didn't belong in first class?"
Greer's jaw clenched. He had no answer that wouldn't destroy him, and they both knew it.
"Question two: Are you aware of Section 12.4 of Fletcher Aeronautics' anti-discrimination and passenger rights policy?"