"Leave the document on the desk, please," Marcus said.
Brenda jerked her hand back as if the paper had burned her, her cheeks flushing dark pink beneath her foundation. "Excuse me? Are you seeing this, Officer? He is interfering with airline personnel!"
"He's keeping his property on the counter," Frank replied flatly. Frank took half a step sideways so he had a clear view behind the curved privacy wing of Brenda’s computer monitor. He looked at the glowing screen for three seconds, then looked up at her face. "Ms. Halstead, your terminal isn't even on the passenger verification screen."
Brenda froze. "What are you talking about? Stay on your side of the desk!"
"Your monitor isn't displaying the cabin manifest or the barcode scanner log," Frank said, loud enough now that the first three rows of passengers in the priority line could hear every word. "You have the manual seat-inventory override window open."
The silence in the check-in lane sharpened. The woman in the cashmere coat took her sunglasses off entirely. The man in the gray suit right behind Marcus stepped forward half a pace, craning his neck.
"That is confidential airline data!" Brenda hissed, reaching quickly for her mouse to minimize the window. "You are a terminal security guard, Frank Miller, not a gate supervisor! You have no idea what you're looking at."
"Actually, I think I do," a new voice spoke up from the priority queue.
Everyone turned toward the man standing second in line—a silver-haired man in a charcoal three-piece suit with a platinum frequent-flyer tag attached to his leather Tumi briefcase. He looked directly at Marcus, then pointed a pen toward Brenda.
"I've been standing at the front of this rope for five minutes waiting for her to open the lane," the silver-haired passenger said clearly. "Right before this gentleman walked up, she was on her cell phone behind the desk. I heard her tell whoever was on the line, 'Don't worry, honey, I'll clear out 2A before boarding closes—just get to the counter in ten minutes.'"
Gasps and low mutters broke out down the velvet-roped lane. Several passengers who had looked at Marcus with suspicion moments earlier now stared at Brenda with open disgust.
Brenda’s jaw tightened until the muscles in her neck stood out above her black-and-gold silk scarf. Her eyes darted across the faces of the watching travelers—one passenger near the back already had his smartphone held at chest height, the camera lens pointed straight at the counter.
Instead of backing down, Brenda’s pride pushed her harder into the corner she had built for herself. She straightened her burgundy blazer and glared at Marcus and Frank with venom in her eyes.
"That is a complete fabrication," Brenda said tightly, her voice trembling with fury rather than fear. "I was speaking with reservations control about an inventory discrepancy! And I am not going to stand here and be interrogated by a security guard and a man with an unverified pass."
She reached for the black landline telephone mounted beside her monitor and snatched up the receiver.
"I am calling Station Director Arthur Pendelton down here right now," Brenda announced to the counter. "And when he gets here, Mr. Vance—or whatever name you typed onto that piece of paper—you won't just be removed from this line. You’ll be placed on the corporate no-fly list, and Officer Miller will be answering to his supervisor before his shift is over!"
Marcus didn't blink. He looked at his silver watch, then back up at Brenda’s flushed face.
"Please do call Mr. Pendelton," Marcus said quietly. "In fact, tell him to bring the weekly shift log for Concourse B with him."
Brenda opened her mouth to retort, her finger poised over the dial pad, when a loud, cheerful voice cut across the priority lane behind them.
"Brenda! Darling, tell me you worked your magic—traffic on the expressway was a nightmare!"
Every head in the queue turned as a man in an expensive camel hair overcoat pushed past the velvet priority rope without waiting in line, grinning straight at Brenda and asking if his special upgrade in Seat 2A was ready.