“Jon. I can’t think about our relationship at the moment. It’s one factor too many for me to—”
“It’s not about that.”
“—process at this time. Oh. What is it?”
“It’s about your team.”
Everyone else had continued over to the two waiting Air Force planes and dropped their packs on the pavement.
“What about them?”
Holly glanced back at her. Somehow Miranda knew that she was offering to backtrack if Miranda needed help.
She shook her head.
Holly shrugged, lay down on the pavement in the shadow of the plane, and rested her head on her pack as if ready to take a nap. But something in how Holly tugged down the brim of her HeliSee hat told Miranda that Holly was watching them and was ready to come running if needed. Though she couldn’t imagine why that would happen.
Jon tapped his phone in his pocket. “I was speaking with the general in charge of military crash investigations. He wants to bring your team onboard.”
“We already are onboard. Over sixty-four percent of my team’s investigations have been military- or military personnel-related over the last eight months. That’s up from my prior lifetime average of forty-two percent.”
“Life, the universe, and everything.”
Perhaps ignoring anything she didn’t understand would be a useful tactic. At least things that people said. She would continue paying attention to the “voices” of the equipment and systems she investigated. But people, at least those she associated with the most, were becoming less comprehensible rather than more with increased exposure. Plotting the axial curves of familiarity versus comprehension decay over time would be an interesting challenge.
“My commander wants to bring your team on full-time. Military contractors for both disaster recovery and—”
“We work for the NTSB.”
“I know that.”
“I work for the NTSB. Your request doesn’t make sense. Thirty-six percent of my work is still in the commercial aviation sector. You’d want me to stop that?”
“Yes. And it makes perfect sense from our point of view. Your consistent ability to accurately assess site crashes in unprecedented time frames would be a real asset to—”
“No. Both myself and my team work for the NTSB.” Miranda tucked her suddenly cold hands under her arms. It made no sense—it was far warmer down here at Aspen’s elevation than atop Snowmass, yet her hands hadn’t been cold up there.
“Look, Miranda. As contractors we can pay you far more than the NTSB can—”
“I’m already wealthy. Jeremy’s parents are Microsoft millionaires many times over. No, this conversation is over.”
“But Miranda—”
“Hey boss,” Holly was standing at her elbow. “We’d better get a move-on right soon, I’m thinking. Crash in California and all.”
“Yes.” She let Holly guide her toward the planes.
“That was looking a bit intense,” Holly whispered.
“No. It was just…wrong.” She’d trusted Jon. And now he wanted the military to absorb her team? She’d been reading NTSB reports since she was thirteen and writing them since twenty. She’d never wanted to be anything else.
Why would Jon suggest such a thing? Didn’t he know her at all?
27
The two Air Force jets were still waiting—the one that had delivered her team and the one Jon had arrived in. With only five people, they could all easily fit aboard either one.
If only she could be on both planes, then she could be in at least two of the three places she needed to be. Unless, perhaps, two of the places happened to be near each other.
“Jeremy, where is there another AC-130J Ghostrider? A Block 30 with the laser.”
He pulled out his tablet and answered within moments. “There are only two other Block 30s built so far. One at Eglin in Florida for testing. The other was just flown from Eglin to Andrews in DC. Apparently a demonstration tour for the House and Senate Armed Services Committees.”
Miranda stopped with one foot on the first step, then turned to face Holly. She had an idea…and a reminder that— “You once said that we just investigate crashes. That it’s what we do.”
“Actually, you said it, Miranda. I just agreed. You’re still right.”
“So, you and I are going to the crash.”
“It’s what we do,” Holly nodded. “What about these three amigos? You,” she pointed at Jeremy, “are obviously Martin Short. Mike is definitely in the Steve Martin role. Jon, that leaves you playing Chevy Chase.”
Once again, Miranda had no idea what one of her team members was talking about. Except she was fairly sure Steve Martin was a banjo player; she wasn’t a fan of bluegrass music.
The three men lined up side by side. They slapped their right hands to their own left shoulders, then left to right. Hands on their hips, they turned their heads and coughed as they did a pelvic thrust. Then they began a quick shuffle step where they tried to dance around each other in figure eights, instead colliding hard enough that they all would have fallen to the ground if their combined momentums hadn’t canceled each other out.
Holly was laughing.
Then the three of them lined up and shouted out, “The Three Amigos!”
Miranda decided it was definitely better not to know, and made a note in her notebook about the potential long-term viability of ignoring obscure cultural references.
Jon’s phone rang again.
“Holly and I are going to investigate the crash on Catalina Island,” Miranda told the others once she’d finished her note and tucked the notebook back in its pocket. “Jeremy and Mike, you’re going to Washington, DC. I want you to investigate two things. Mike, talk to Drake to get more information about General JJ Martinez. Jeremy, I want you to study the AC-130J Ghostrider at Andrews. We need to understand the modifications, especially those introduced in the Block 30 upgrade.”
“Cool!” Jeremy shot her a double thumbs-up, almost losing his tablet to the pavement.
Mike looked less certain. “Perhaps…” He tipped his head as if cracking his spine, a very Holly-like gesture.
Holly picked up his thought before Miranda could ask, “Perhaps…not Drake. He’s more stubborn than an Ozzie shepherd dog. Sounds like his claws are dug in pretty deep on the subject of General JJ.”
“Precisely my thought, Holly. Wow! You do have a brain in that pretty head of yours. I thought it was just for show.” Mike dodged behind Jeremy before Holly could take a swing at him.
Miranda would trust to their judgment on that. “How about Lizzy? She’s close to Drake and may know something.” She was the only other general who Miranda knew in DC.
Holly snorted, “The director of the National Reconnaissance Office? I’d bet that General Elizabeth Gray knows far more than her boyfriend suspects. When are those two gonna do more than have a naughty anyway?”
“A naughty?” Miranda could help herself.
“A bangaroo. A good time in the sack. She needs to be making an honest man out of him some day.”
Jon rejoined them, “Where do you want me?”