Then, one of the firefighters began to clap.

Within seconds, the entire ground crew joined in, the applause rising above the rumble of the standby generators.

Malachi kept his head down, holding tightly to my hand as we descended the wet steps.

We were led into a secure briefing room inside the terminal.

A stern man in a thick woolen coat met us there, introducing himself as Inspector Murray of the Air Accident Investigation Unit.

For four hours, we sat at a long wooden table.

I explained the tea, the sudden illness of the captains, and the erratic behavior of the autopilot.

“The plane was fighting us,” Malachi told the inspector, pointing to a diagram of the control columns. “The trim was forced down by a remote signal.”

Inspector Murray typed the details into his laptop, his face growing darker with every sentence.

“Our cyber division has already traced the signal,” Murray said, looking up at us. “It originated from a shell company owned by the airline’s parent group.”

He shook his head slowly.

“They wanted this plane in the ocean,” Murray added. “They couldn’t risk the pilot’s union exposing the software defect in court.”