Page 31 of Air Force One
He looked ready to spit on the deck at her feet but probably didn’t want to muss the President’s bird. Ah, the simple joys.
26
When the crew chief opened the cargo bay door, Holly surveyed the situation.
Sea State 4 meant that diving was going to be possible, just annoying as hell. The altostratus clouds over DC were thickening into a heavy marine layer here off the Delaware coast.
She pointed up at them and Miranda nodded—then she typed something on her phone before turning it to Holly.
Yes.
“Yes, what?”
Miranda just sighed and shook her head before tucking her phone away. Whatever she’d meant, time was definitely of the essence.
Checking the surface of the sea, Holly saw that the three big white USCG cutters with the wide orange slash across their bows were anchored in a triangle about a kilometer on a side. In the center, a small fleet of the 47-foot MLBs were shuttling back and forth across the waves. One slowed to pick up something from the water—briefcase-size, not body-size. That was a relief. Though there’d be plenty of bodies soon.
Holly couldn’t tell if their escort to the ship’s bridge was a guide or a guard. She braced herself to keep fighting the battles against knotheads who should be left deep in the Never-Never with an empty canteen and no knickers.
“You certainly arrived quickly.” A man wearing the three bars and a star of a Coast Guard commander greeted them without rising from his chair on the bridge. He was one of the only two present—three, counting their escort. The other stood close by the helm. “We only dropped our hook a few minutes ago.”
“The VH-60N can travel at two hundred and eighty-two kph,” Miranda informed him. “As your ship is presently anchored two hundred and thirty-four kilometers from the South Lawn of the White House, that gave us a transit time of forty-nine minutes. Steaming at your flank speed from your normal berth, seventy-two kilometers southwest of here, you had a transit time of approximately a hundred and twenty-two minutes. It is more by coincidence than planning that we arrived so closely in time.”
“Who the hell are you, lady?”
“I’m Miranda Chase, the Investigator-in-Charge for the NTSB.”
The commander stared at her long enough to make Holly shift up on her toes.
“Huh. Ms. Chase, since you arrived on a Presidential-lift helicopter, I’m assuming you can tell me what the hell is going on. Is that…” he waved a hand helplessly toward the triangle formed by the three anchored cutters “…really Air Force One?”
“Yes.”
Holly barely managed to suppress her laugh. It was inappropriate in such a moment, but she was kinda an inappropriate gal.
“Well…shit!” the commander finally concluded.
Her burst of laughter came out—a little more on edge than she liked, so she killed it quickly…but not fast enough. The Coastie guys turned to look at her and then turned away. Even Mike and Jeremy looked at her askance.
“Sue me!” she told them all. She hadn’t lost someone she cared about in a long time. It was something she’d achieved, ever since losing her SASR team in an unnamable jungle, by the decision to care about as few people as possible. But she respected the hell out of Drake and rather liked President Cole. If these people didn’t like that their loss made her jittery, screw ’em.
Miranda hadn’t reacted at all. “Have we now dispensed with the pleasantries traditional for a new meeting of people? If so, I’m ready to start my investigation.”
The commander pushed out of his chair and stepped over. “Well, if you’re high enough up to co-opt one of the President’s Marine helos, that’s good enough for me.” He held out a hand. “Commander Randy Davidson. How can I help, Ms. Chase?”
Miranda cringed.
Holly stepped in and shook his hand for her. “Nothing personal, Commander. She’s not big on touching anyone, other than her new spouse—the short one.” She nodded toward Andi.
Andi’s punch landed fast and hard on the nerve in the radial groove of her upper biceps. A spike of pain shot up into her shoulder joint and down to her hand, where it hung out until her fingers felt thick and numb.
Duh! Don’t piss off the little Chinese woman. By her previous standard of Andi teases, it seemed rather an overreaction. She squinted her question at Andi as she rubbed her arm back to life.
“Sorry,” Andi actually did look sorry…and seriously sad. “The last person to tease me about my love life is…” she swallowed hard and nodded toward the center of the triangle “…down there.”
Now Holly was the one who felt like shit. “Uh, can we get this show on the road?”
“I thought I already asked that question,” Miranda looked puzzled.
