"It is, but there's a maintenance exclusion zone in front of the hangar. You need to go around the other side." Noah took a step nearer, then noticed the toolbox. "You work on aircraft?"
"Mostly avionics. Displays, electrical systems, the occasional puzzle nobody else wants."
Noah looked tired enough to laugh at the word puzzle. "We've got one of those."
"Eight days?" Caleb asked.
Noah blinked. "How did you know?"
"The way they're working. Everybody's going deep into the mechanics, but nobody seems to be watching what the electronics are asking the mechanics to do. That usually means the diagnostics said something they believed before they tested it."
Noah turned toward the jet. Caleb could practically see the thought moving across the younger man's face. He had heard an idea like that eight days ago, before a supervisor told him it was not worth pursuing. "It's a no-start condition," Noah admitted. "Everything we test comes back good, but the aircraft won't authorize the sequence. The system status is green."
"Green where?"
"On the maintenance summary."
"And the event logs?"
Noah hesitated. "The standard fault history is clear."
"That's not the same thing."
The statement was quiet, but Richard Coleman heard it as he approached with two consultants. Richard wore a charcoal polo with the manufacturer's emblem and a badge identifying him as lead systems engineer. He had been awake since dawn, fielding increasingly hostile calls from headquarters, and did not need a stranger at the door teaching his junior employee how to think.
"What isn't the same thing?" Richard asked.
Caleb turned. "The status summary and the full initialization record."
Richard looked him over once, slowly. His eyes paused on the frayed bungee cord around the toolbox. "And who exactly are you?"
"Caleb Richardson. I run Richardson Avionics and Electrical. I'm here for a delivery."
"A delivery," Richard repeated, as though the phrase were a diagnosis. He glanced at Noah. "I thought we had discussed keeping visitors away from the aircraft."
"He's not inside the exclusion zone," Noah said. "He asked a question about the startup record."
"Everyone has questions. We've been answering questions for eight days."
Caleb should have nodded and walked away. He was aware of the package under his arm, the two hundred dollars, and the time approaching noon. He also knew the tone Richard had used. It was a tone built to remind everybody nearby who was entitled to think and who was allowed only to carry things from one building to another.
"Was the aircraft working before the last software update?" Caleb asked.
Richard's expression tightened. "There was a routine update. The software passed verification."
"And did anyone compare the complete boot-state transitions before and after it?"
"The system passed verification," Richard repeated. "You understand what that means?"
"I understand exactly what it means," Caleb said. "I also understand what it doesn't prove."
A small group of technicians drifted toward them. Across the hangar floor, Dr. Feldman stopped in the middle of a conversation and turned. Richard noticed the gathering audience and straightened his shoulders.