The message from the gate concerned a revised seat assignment. Ground operations had located one unoccupied seat in economy, row 34B, between two travelers who had already boarded. If Preston accepted it, the gate supervisor could issue a corrected boarding pass immediately; otherwise he would have to leave the aircraft and take a later departure with an available seat in the cabin he wanted.
Captain Miller listened to the instructions and made himself repeat them back. He had no room left for improvisation, and in the cold aftermath of the call with Harrington, the ordinary discipline of confirming operational facts seemed suddenly important. He looked down at Preston, who was waiting for someone to announce that the problem had somehow disappeared.
"Mr. Carmichael," the captain said. "Your assignment to 1A was issued in error. The only confirmed seat available on this flight is 34B, in economy. You may accept that seat or disembark and arrange another flight."
Preston stared at him. "Thirty-four B?"
"Yes, sir."
"A middle seat."
"That is correct."
"After I've spent all day dealing with your incompetence, you think I'm going to sit in a middle seat?"
Robert felt the old impulse to appease a difficult customer. For years, the instinct had been reinforced by complaints that could climb from a gate supervisor to corporate offices within hours. It had seemed reasonable to make concessions to the loudest person because doing so often ended the immediate dispute. Looking at Preston now, he finally understood how much trouble that habit could create for everyone else.
"Those are your choices," Robert said. "We can rebook you, but Mr. Phillips is keeping 1A."
Preston's gaze flashed toward Darien. "This is because of him."
"This is because there was a duplicate assignment and because you have refused the accommodation available," Robert said. "The responsibility is ours to correct the error. You are responsible for what you do next."
Marianne Ellis watched the exchange with the expression of a woman who had heard that distinction made too late in more hearings than she could count. She had no admiration for Preston, but she felt something close to concern as he looked around the cabin searching for sympathy. He was growing angrier as the possibility of controlling the result grew smaller.
"I know how this works," Preston declared. "He calls somebody important, says the right words, and suddenly all of you are afraid of him. It doesn't matter what the rules are anymore because he knows somebody."
Darien turned his head. "You were comfortable invoking your own connections a few minutes ago. You just didn't expect anyone else to have them."
Several passengers made quiet sounds of surprise. Preston's expression tightened further, and Darien regretted answering almost as soon as the words left his mouth. The point was accurate, but he had no desire to give the man another excuse to perform for the audience.
"You don't know anything about me," Preston snapped.
"I know you introduced yourself with your job title before you explained your reservation."
Preston pointed at him again. "You think being a billionaire makes you better than everybody else?"