Chapter 5
I thought the worst part was being embarrassed on the airplane.
Then I saw the photograph of my invention.
SAFE SIGNAL sat on a table inside the competition venue.
The photograph had been taken from only a few feet away.
I recognized the scratches on its plastic casing.
The little blue button.
The silver antenna Dad helped me attach.
Someone had been close enough to touch it.
I stared at the picture.
"How did they get in?"
Aunt Denise took a slow breath.
"We're going to find out."
She called the competition organizers.
They confirmed that my project had arrived safely with the equipment shipment.
It was stored in a secured preparation room.
Only authorized staff were supposed to enter.
My stomach tightened.
"Did someone take it?"
Aunt Denise looked at me.
"Not according to the organizer."
I exhaled.
Then she continued.
"But they're checking the access records."
I nodded.
I didn't understand why anyone would care about my invention.
It was a school project.
A small emergency-alert device.
I hadn't sold it.
I hadn't patented it.
I didn't even know whether it would work outside the controlled tests Dad and I had performed.
But someone was sending threats.
Someone knew where I was.
And someone had photographed my project.
That frightened me more than anything.
Dad arrived in New York the next morning.
He came straight to Aunt Denise's apartment.
The moment he walked through the door, I ran toward him.
"Dad!"
He lifted me into his arms.
I held on tightly.
He kissed my forehead.
"Hey, champ."
I buried my face in his shoulder.
"I'm glad you're here."
His voice broke.
"Me too, son."
Aunt Denise brought him coffee.
Then we sat at the kitchen table.
Dad opened his laptop.
He showed me a picture of Victor Hayes.
"Malik, I need to ask you something."
I nodded.
"Okay."
"Has Victor ever talked to you about SAFE SIGNAL?"
I thought for a moment.
"Yes."
Dad sat straighter.
"When?"
"At the company picnic."
His expression changed.
"What did he say?"
I stared at the table.
"He asked how it worked."
Dad nodded.
"Anything else?"
"He asked whether I'd shared the design with anyone."
Aunt Denise looked toward Dad.
I continued.
"I told him I'd shown it to my science teacher and the competition committee."
Dad's jaw tightened.
"Then?"
"He said I should let the airline's technology team look at it."
Dad leaned forward.
"Did he ask you to send him anything?"
I nodded.
"He gave me his email."
Dad went still.
"Did you send the design?"
I shook my head.
"No."
He exhaled slowly.
"Good."
I frowned.
"Was that wrong?"
Dad looked at me.
"No, son. You didn't do anything wrong."
I swallowed.
"Then why does it matter?"
He took a breath.
"Because Victor has been pushing a new emergency communication project inside the airline."
I sat straighter.
"Like SAFE SIGNAL?"
"Possibly."
My stomach tightened.
Dad continued.
"The company has been evaluating technology that could help passengers and crew communicate during emergencies."
I looked at him.
"Wouldn't that be good?"
He nodded.
"Absolutely."
"Then why is Victor acting weird?"
Dad's expression darkened.
"That's what we're investigating."
He explained that Victor had recently presented a proposal to the board for a new emergency-alert product.
The proposal was expensive.
It involved outside contractors.
And Victor had been pushing for rapid approval.
Dad had asked for more testing and an independent review.
Victor hadn't liked that.
Now Dad was wondering whether Victor had learned about my project and thought it could be useful.
I stared at SAFE SIGNAL's photograph.
"But it's mine."
Dad nodded.
"Your work deserves to be respected."
I swallowed.
"Could he steal it?"
Dad answered carefully.
"People can misuse ideas or documents. That's why we need to preserve your original work and have qualified people review what happened."
I looked down.
I had spent months building SAFE SIGNAL.
Grandpa's stories inspired it.
Dad helped me test it.
My teacher encouraged me when the first version failed.
I couldn't imagine someone taking credit for it.
Then I remembered Victor smiling at the picnic.
Telling me I was a genius.
Asking questions.
I felt sick.
"Was he pretending to be nice?"
Dad looked sad.
"I don't know what he intended."
I nodded.
I appreciated that he didn't pretend to know.
Aunt Denise reached for my hand.
"Malik, your project is still yours."
I smiled weakly.
"Okay."
That afternoon, we went to the competition venue.
The organizers had arranged a private inspection of my device.
Dad accompanied me.
So did Aunt Denise.
A security manager met us at the entrance.
She explained that someone had accessed the preparation room using a temporary event credential.
The person hadn't been identified yet.
But the access records and camera footage were being reviewed.
I felt cold.
"Did they touch my project?"
She hesitated.
"We don't know."
Dad stepped closer.
"Has the device been examined for tampering?"
"Not yet."
He nodded.
"Then please don't allow anyone to operate it until that can be checked."
I stared at him.
"Does that mean I can't compete?"
His expression softened.
"We'll find a way to handle this safely."
My chest tightened.
I had worked so hard.
I didn't want to lose the competition because someone was trying to scare me.
The organizers offered to let me use a backup prototype.
Luckily, I'd brought one in my carry-on bag.
It wasn't as polished.
The casing was scratched.
The battery compartment was held closed with blue tape.
But it worked.
I smiled for the first time that day.
"I can use this."
Dad looked proud.
"That's my boy."
We arranged to test it under supervision.
When I pressed the button, the small receiver beeped.
A green light flashed.
The alert appeared on the connected display.
SUCCESS.
I almost cried.
Aunt Denise clapped.
Dad laughed.
And for a moment, the threats felt far away.
Then the security manager approached.
Her expression was serious.
"Mr. Bennett, we've identified the temporary credential used to enter the preparation room."
Dad turned.
"Who was it issued to?"
She looked down at her tablet.
"The credential was requested by a corporate sponsor."
My stomach tightened.
"Which sponsor?"
She hesitated.
Then spoke carefully.
"Hayes Aviation Technologies."
Dad went completely still.
Victor's outside technology partner.
The company connected to his board proposal.
I stared at Dad.
He looked furious.
But his voice remained calm.
"Preserve the records and contact the appropriate authorities."
The manager nodded.
"Already underway."
I looked toward my backup prototype.
I had built it because I wanted people to be safe.
Now it seemed like my invention had put me in danger.
Dad crouched beside me.
"Malik, look at me."
I did.
"You're still going to present if you want to."
I swallowed.
"Even after all this?"
He nodded.
"Especially after all this."
I looked at SAFE SIGNAL.
Then at Grandpa's photograph tucked into my backpack.
I took a deep breath.
"Okay."
Dad smiled.
"Okay."
But as we prepared to leave, Dad received a call from the airline's legal department.
He listened carefully.
Then his expression changed.
"What do you mean the design was submitted?"
I looked up.
Dad stood.
"Submitted where?"
He listened.
Then closed his eyes.
I felt my stomach drop.
"Dad?"
He ended the call.
I stepped closer.
"What happened?"
He looked at me.
"Victor's technology partner filed a preliminary intellectual-property application."
I stared.
"For what?"
Dad's voice became quiet.
"A system that appears to use ideas very similar to SAFE SIGNAL."
My chest tightened.
"Mine?"
He placed a hand on my shoulder.
"We need experts to compare the records."
I stared at my little invention.
Something I'd built to help people.
Something inspired by Grandpa.
And suddenly, I understood why someone might have wanted me frightened enough to quit.
May you like
They didn't just want my seat.
They wanted my silence.
