Hoffman surveyed the waiting faces. For an instant he seemed surprised that his crew's account had not gone unchallenged. His gaze returned to Marcus.
"I am responsible for the safety of everyone on this aircraft," he said. "If I decide a diversion is necessary, that's what will happen."
"I understand your responsibility. What I don't understand is how asking for safe food has become a threat to safety."
Hoffman's jaw tightened.
Marcus could have mentioned the board. He could have opened his account profile, displayed the ownership records, and demanded a call with the chief executive. The thought passed through him and vanished. He did not want one rule for people with influence and another rule for everyone else.
"Captain," he said, "please look at the sandwich, speak to the witnesses, and ask your crew exactly what they said. Those three steps would clear up most of this."
Hoffman didn't move. He was no longer deciding only whether Marcus's complaint had merit. He was also deciding whether he could admit, in front of his own crew, that he might have been wrong.
"This conversation is over," he said.
He turned toward the galley. Marcus watched him go, feeling the familiar exhaustion of a person who had offered a straightforward path to the truth and seen it rejected because someone preferred authority to accuracy.
Clare had barely drawn the galley curtain when she began speaking.
"I cannot believe he brought the captain into this. Who does he think he is?"
Michael busied himself with the storage cabinets. "We could still give him the correct dinner and apologize."
"After all this? He'd take it as a victory."
Lucia stared at her. "Isn't getting the passenger a safe meal supposed to be the point?"
Clare ignored her. "He sits up there acting like he owns the airline. These people get one upgrade and suddenly they want everyone running around them."
"Don't say things like that," Michael muttered.
"Like what? Like the truth?"
Helena entered the galley. "Enough. The captain is already unhappy."
Clare turned on her. "Then get this passenger removed. He's making us look bad."
Lucia felt a sick sensation settle in her stomach. She had seen the sandwich before Clare served it. She had watched the senior attendant take a clearly unsuitable item from the disposal compartment and present it as a meal. She had told herself that Helena would notice, that a supervisor would intervene, that somebody with more authority would put things right. Instead they were talking about punishing the passenger.
"I need to say something," Lucia began.
Clare rolled her eyes. "Here we go."
"The sandwich was marked for disposal. I saw where it came from. He didn't make that up."
Helena turned sharply. "Are you certain?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
Lucia stared at her. "I tried to stop it. Clare told me to mind my work."
Clare laughed with disbelief. "You're going to take his side?"