Chapter 2 - The Black Disc
The man behind the guard looked nothing like Leah expected a frightened father to look.
He looked dangerous.
Not movie dangerous. Not loud. Not angry.
Quiet dangerous.
He was probably in his mid-thirties, tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair pushed back from a face that seemed carved into permanent control. His black shirt was open at the throat. A heavy watch circled one wrist.
In his arms, the screaming baby twisted beneath a cream blanket.
A little boy.
Maybe eighteen months old.
His cheeks were red from crying.
“Who is she?” the man asked.
The guard glanced back.
“Economy passenger, sir.”
“I heard that,” Leah said.
The man's eyes returned to her.
Despite everything, something almost changed in his expression.
“You should return to your seat.”
“The bottle is making it worse.”
His face hardened.
“My son hasn't eaten in five hours.”
“He isn't hungry.”
“You're ten.”
“I know.”
“And you're diagnosing my child?”
“No.”
Leah looked at the baby.
“I'm listening to him.”
The guard stepped forward.
“That's enough.”
The baby suddenly screamed harder.
Leah flinched.
Not at the volume.
At the pattern.
Three sharp cries.
A breath.
Then frantic twisting.
Exactly like Maya.
“Wait.”
The father stared at her.
Leah pointed.
“Look at his left side.”
“What?”
“Every time you pull the blanket tight, he turns away.”
The man looked down.
The child was arching to the right.
“Give him to me,” Leah said.
Absolutely everyone went still.
The guard actually looked offended.
The father's voice dropped.
“No.”
“Then put him on the seat.”
“No.”
“Okay. Hold him sideways.”
“Why?”
“So I can see his back.”
The man's expression said the conversation was over.
Then his son screamed again.
Something in him broke.
Not visibly.
Just enough.
He shifted the child.
Leah approached.
The guard caught her shoulder.
She recoiled so sharply that he released her immediately.
“Don't touch me.”
The father noticed.
His eyes narrowed.
But Leah was already focused on the child.
“Lift the blanket.”
The father did.
“His shirt.”
He pulled the fabric upward.
Nothing.
Then Leah saw a tiny dark edge beneath the waistband of the baby's soft pants.
“There.”
The father froze.
Leah reached toward it.
His hand closed around her wrist.
Fast.
Hard.
“Don't.”
Their eyes met.
“It's hurting him.”
The man's grip loosened.
Leah carefully pulled the object free.
A small black disc.
Smaller than a coin.
Flat.
Almost weightless.
For one second the father simply stared.
Then his entire face changed.
“Victor.”
The guard moved.
“Sir?”
“Lock the cabin.”
“Mr. Rainer—”
“Now.”
The curtain closed.
Another security man appeared from nowhere.
The father—Mr. Rainer—took the disc from Leah without touching its center.
“Gloves.”
A flight attendant brought them.
He placed the object inside an empty glass.
His son had stopped screaming.
Not completely.
Now the baby made small exhausted sounds while gripping his father's shirt.
Leah watched.
That was what Maya had done.
Exactly.
Mr. Rainer saw her expression.
“How did you know?”
Leah said nothing.
His voice softened.
“What is your name?”
“Leah.”
“Leah what?”
She hesitated.
“Bennett.”
“And how did you know that was there?”
“I didn't.”
“You told me where to look.”
“I guessed.”
“No.”
Leah looked toward the curtain.
“I need to go back to Maya.”
“Who is Maya?”
“My sister.”
“How old?”
“Three.”
Mr. Rainer looked at Victor.
“Bring her here.”
“No.”
Leah stepped backward.
The force of it surprised everyone.
“Don't touch her.”
“No one will.”
“I mean it.”
Mr. Rainer studied her.
Then he nodded.
“Victor, don't touch her sister. Ask the flight attendant to bring her.”
Victor left.
The father settled his son against his chest.
“What is his name?” Leah asked.
“Leo.”
The baby had fallen almost instantly asleep.
Leah's eyes stayed on the glass.
Mr. Rainer followed her gaze.
“You recognize this.”
“No.”
“You're frightened of it.”
She remained silent.
“Leah.”
“My mom says adults ask questions when they've already decided what answer they want.”
The man's expression changed again.
“What does your mother do?”
Leah's throat tightened.
“I don't know anymore.”
Before he could respond, the curtain opened.
A flight attendant carried sleeping Maya.
Her stuffed rabbit dangled from one hand.
Leah immediately took her.
Maya woke.
“Lee?”
“I'm here.”
The toddler pressed her face into Leah's neck.
Mr. Rainer watched them.
Then Maya noticed Leo.
“Baby sad?”
“He's okay now,” Leah whispered.
Maya stared at the black disc inside the glass.
Her entire body stiffened.
The rabbit dropped.
Leah felt it.
“Maya?”
The toddler pointed.
“Bad button.”
Nobody spoke.
Mr. Rainer crouched.
“You've seen it before?”
Maya buried her face.
Leah's heart hammered.
“Don't ask her.”
“Leah—”
“I said don't.”
Then Maya whispered into her sister's neck.
“Kitchen.”
Mr. Rainer heard.
So did Victor.
“What kitchen?”
Leah closed her eyes.
There was no way out anymore.
“Our kitchen.”
“When?”
“Four days ago.”
“Who put it there?”
“I don't know.”
Mr. Rainer stood.
“What happened four days ago?”
Leah held Maya tighter.
“Our mom disappeared.”
The words changed the cabin.
Mr. Rainer glanced at Victor.
“Where is your father?”
“We don't have one.”
“Relative?”
“Aunt Celia. Rome.”
“You're flying alone?”
“The airline knows.”
“Where did your mother go?”
“I told you. I don't know.”
“Did you report her missing?”
Leah laughed once.
It sounded older than ten.
“To who?”
“The police.”
“They came to our house.”
Mr. Rainer's eyes sharpened.
“When?”
“The night Mom disappeared.”
“Then she's officially missing.”
“No.”
“What?”
Leah looked directly at him.
“They weren't there to find her.”
She swallowed.
“They were there to search for something.”
Victor stepped closer.
“What?”
“I don't know.”
Mr. Rainer looked again at the black disc.
“Tell me about the one in your kitchen.”
Leah's fingers trembled.
She hid them in Maya's blanket.
“I found it underneath the table.”
“What did you do?”
“I pulled it off.”
“And?”
“Mom came home twenty minutes later.”
“After she'd disappeared?”
“No. Before.”
Leah's voice dropped.
“She saw it in my hand and got scared.”
“How scared?”
“She packed our suitcase.”
Mr. Rainer's expression went still.
“She told me if anything happened, I had to take Maya to Aunt Celia.”
“What happened next?”
“Someone knocked.”
Leah could still hear it.
Three knocks.
Slow.
Her mother turning white.
“Mom told us to go upstairs.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
For the first time, Leah looked ashamed.
“I listened.”
“What did you hear?”
“Men.”
“What did they say?”
She looked at the black disc.
“One of them said she'd copied something that belonged to Mr. Rainer.”
Silence.
Victor looked at his employer.
Leah saw it.
Recognition.
“That's you, isn't it?”
The man didn't answer.
“You're Mr. Rainer.”
“Yes.”
Her face changed.
She backed away.
“You know my mother.”
“What's her name?”
“Emily Bennett.”
Victor inhaled sharply.
Dominic Rainer slowly turned toward him.
“You know that name?”
Victor did not answer quickly enough.
Dominic stood.
“Victor.”
“Yes.”
“Who is Emily Bennett?”
Victor looked toward Leah.
Then the sleeping baby.
Finally, he said:
“She worked for us.”
Leah's stomach dropped.
“Doing what?”
Victor's answer came quietly.
“Security systems.”
Dominic stared at the black disc.
Then at Leah.
“Where?”
Victor's jaw tightened.
“Your house.”
Leah stopped breathing.
Dominic did too.
Because suddenly the device hidden beneath his son's clothes did not look like an attack from a stranger.
May you like
It looked like something planted by someone who knew exactly how to get inside.
And somewhere over the Atlantic, with thousands of miles of ocean beneath them, Dominic Rainer realized the frightened ten-year-old standing in front of him might be the only person alive who knew why someone had taken her mother.
