They are not up for debate. We have a VVIP on board and a wheels up time in 5 minutes. We need to start the engines. We need to do nothing. Mark shot back, his face reening.
He was leaning across the center console, his voice a low, furious hiss. I am the pilot in command. That means I am responsible for this $75 million aircraft and every soul on board. And I am telling you, I am not comfortable flying with you. Your attitude is insubordinate.
Your logging of that leak was a childish, backstabbing maneuver. I have a gut feeling. And my gut, which has kept me alive for 20,000 hours, tells me you are a risk. You are a liability. I will not fly with you.
The accusation hung in the air, heavier than any turbulence. He wasn't just questioning her competence. He was using the sacred cows of aviation, safety, and gut feeling to mask an ugly personal prejudice. A risk, Captain? Evelyn asked, her eyes narrowing.
Are you prepared to articulate specifically what rule of airmanship I have broken? My attitude has been to follow standard operating procedure. A procedure you were willing to ignore. Don't you twist my words. Mark roared, finally losing his composure.
He jabbed a finger at her. I know your type. You come in, box ticking and quotota filling, thinking you know everything. You're a danger and I'm grounding this flight. He reached for his phone.
I'm calling David in operations. I'm telling him I'm refusing this leg until they find me a qualified first officer, someone I can trust, not some diversity hire. The words spoken with such venom were designed to shatter her, to make her cry or scream or quit. Evelyn Hayes did none of those things. She simply watched him, her expression hardening from professional calm to something cold and appraising.
She saw a man in a full-blown panic, a man so terrified of her competence that he was willing to professionally self-destruct. You're making a grave mistake, Captain Harrison," she said, her voice quiet. "The only mistake was letting you on this flight deck," he snarled, holding his phone to his ear. "David?" "Yeah, it's Mark up here on the 70o.
Listen, we have a problem." "No, not the aircraft. It's the new FO Hayes. She's she's not up to standards. No, I'm not comfortable.
She's insubordinate. Her experience is questionable. I don't care. I am refusing to fly with her. You heard me.
I will not take this aircraft into the air with her in the right seat. Find me a replacement. Find me, Tom. Find me anyone or Mr. Croft stays on the ground.
He listened for a moment, his face growing smug. Good. I'll wait. He clicked off the phone and tossed it onto the dashboard. He leaned back, crossing his arms.
See, that's how it's done. Operations is finding a replacement. You can go wait in the FBO. You're grounded, Haze. Pack your things.
From the cabin, a curtain was pulled back. The young flight attendant, Chloe, looked in, her face pale. Captain, Mr. Croft, is asking what the delay is. He's on a very important call.
Tell Mr. Croft we have a minor crew issue and close that curtain. Mark bellowed. Khloe flinched and vanished. Mark looked back at Evelyn, expecting to see her defeated, but she hadn't moved.
She hadn't unbuckled. She was just looking at him. What are you deaf? I said, "Get out," he said. Evelyn slowly, calmly reached into her flight bag.
She didn't pull out a manual or her credentials. She pulled out her own personal cell phone. "You called David, the director of flight operations," she said, her voice conversational. "Damn right," I did. Mark scoffed.
"He knows my standards." "Yes, he does," Evelyn agreed. She dialed a number. But when I have an HR issue this significant, I find it's better to call David's boss. Mark's smug expression faltered.
What are you talking about? David's boss is the COO. No, Evelyn said as the call connected. His boss is me. She put the phone on speaker.
Hi David, it's Eve. I'm on the G700 registry N700e. Yes, the Tetro to Van Ny's leg. Mark's blood turned to ice. "Eve, I'm sitting here with Captain Mark Harrison," Evelyn continued, her eyes locked on his.
"He just called you, correct? Refusing to fly? What was his stated reason?" David's voice, tiny and panicked, came over the speaker. "M Hayes, I I had no idea you were."
He said, "He said you were an unqualified risk. I was just I was trying to find Captain Ramirez to to smooth things over. An unqualified risk, I see. Evelyn said, "Thank you, David. Please stay on the line.
I am officially grounding Captain Harrison effective immediately. I want security to meet him at the FBO, and I want you to pull his entire training file and flight history. Specifically, I want to see if he's completed the mandatory maintenance bulletin on the G700's auxiliary hydraulic system, the one sent out last Tuesday. Right away, Miss Hayes. Right away.
Evelyn disconnected the call and looked at Mark. Mark Harrison was no longer red. He was a ghostly, sickly shade of pale. The blood had drained from his face, leaving his skin looking like old parchment. Ms.