Page 19 of Air Force One
“It doesn’t go away once you see it. I’d bet hard cash that it would never happen to me and now I have two of the little terrors. Me!” The fierce little Latina went to thump her breastbone, found her arms were full of child, and smiled down at it. Maybe it was Colonel Vicki the Taser Cortez who had unloaded the inventory of several toy stores onto the living room floor.
Pure, unadulterated craziness! Madder than a tree full of kookaburras.
Holly turned to Jeremy. “I’m sorry, Little Padawan, but I’m going to have to kill your entire family for putting that into my brain.”
He knew her too well and continued to nurse his hot chocolate.
“You included!”
He smiled at her.
Holly sighed. “Maybe I can get some brain surgery to remove?—”
One of those National Emergency Alert tones blasted out of each of their cell phones.
“A test?” Holly hoped but had a nasty suspicion that it wasn’t.
Mike and Amy slept through it, but the three of them pulled out their phones.
Jeremy read it aloud though they were all looking at the same thing. “An emergency announcement from the President will be broadcast on all major networks at 10:05 this morning. Please tune to your preferred news source or visit whitehouse-dot-gov for an important announcement.”
“What? Are we suddenly at war?”
Jeremy turned on the TV. “It’s 10:04 right now. We’ll know in a minute.”
Holly shook Mike’s shoulder gently enough to wake him but not the sleeping Amy. Damn, but he did look sweet waking up slow and holding a little girl; it would just never be one of hers because no way, no how, never, nuh-uh! That was an idea that belonged way out in the never-never of the Australian Outback—out there and buried deep beneath the red sands until it rotted. Then a dingo could dig it up, eat it, and poop it out on the searing sands. After that…
A bright red Breaking News banner filled the screen. A scroller showed, Important News from the White House and a countdown timer already ticking into the thirty-second range.
War—or worse?
They exchanged looks. Every member of Miranda’s team had ridden an air-crash investigation to the brink of open international conflict—several times. What if this was the time they were too late?
A text popped in from Andi. Turn on your TV.
Holly sent back a Duh! Already there, Pint Size. Andi sent back no answer to the insult. That was weird. So Holly added, I thought you two were busy honeymooning? Maybe you’re too busy having sex? Nada! What did that teacup-sized helo pilot know that she didn’t?
A news anchor came on screen to announce an emergency broadcast. But his timing was wrong, and he was cut off mid-opening when the image cut to Sarah Feldman’s face. She stood at a podium fronted with the Presidential Seal. They’d seen her last night at the wedding and dinner. She looked quite different in the green power suit than she had in the flowing cocktail dress.
“This is Vice President and President-elect Sarah Feldman. I will keep this brief and to the point. Nine minutes ago, the President’s plane, Air Force One, crashed in the Atlantic Ocean en route to a final, peaceful, goodwill tour. I regret to report that there is no chance of survivors. That includes President Roy Cole, his First Lady Rose Cole, and General Drake Nason, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, along with eighty other personnel. If you had friends or family on that flight, please accept my sincere condolences. You will be notified as soon as identities are confirmed.”
Holly’s breath, that she hadn’t realized she was holding, exploded out of her. She slid onto the couch and grabbed Mike’s hand. His grip clamped onto her hand as hard as hers did his.
“A US Coast Guard team is already on site. In minutes, the nation’s top air-crash investigation team will be launching. They will determine if this was an accident or an act of aggression.”
“That had better be us,” Mike snarled out in a rare angry tone.
Amy protested in his arms but fell back asleep when he patted her gently. Yep, Superdad to the core—Bollocks!
“I wish to assure the nation and the world that there is an absolute continuity of government. To that end, I have enlisted the aid of one of Roy Cole’s closest friends and most trusted advisors.” Sarah stepped to the side of the podium and the camera followed.
Holly laughed. There was nothing else she could do. The only ones who didn’t look surprised were Amy, because she slept on, and Jeremy, because he was a total Miranda fanboy.
Andi stood at attention, the perfect US Army captain despite her casual attire, holding a book in front of her. She wore her favorite leather bomber jacket complete with sheepskin collar showing, so she somewhat looked the part—a petite Chinese woman in a World War I style jacket worked on her. Beside her, Miranda stood in a turtleneck and a fleece vest holding up her phone as if to take a photo.
Sarah placed her hand on the book—on the Bible, Holly realized—and Miranda read aloud whatever she was viewing. “Please repeat after me. I…um, it doesn’t say to, but I think it would be more proper if you state your name after the I.”
“I, Vice President and President-elect Sarah Feldman…”
