41
“Hi, Miranda.”
Drake had made the call on speakerphone, which Clarissa appreciated, though it was hard to hear. The Gulfstream X-54B was a military test plane and not much effort had gone into sound insulation. It wasn’t as loud as a C-130 Hercules—but it wasn’t some nicely muted jetliner either.
“Hello, Drake.” It sounded as if she stood in the middle of a Jamaican steel drum band competition, with each band playing a different tune.
“I was afraid that I’d wake you up.”
“No.”
Clarissa, at least, knew better. She’d been shoulder-to-shoulder with Miranda through the night of the investigation into Clark’s death. And all last night with an equally driven Jeremy. Until the crash was solved, there would be no rest for her.
“Oh, good. Well, I need your team in Brunei in three hours.”
“Why?”
“We have a meeting with the Chinese.”
“But we don’t know if it was their satellite yet.”
“Still, I need you at the meeting,” Drake used a much gentler hand with the woman than Clarissa ever had.
Maybe they were having an affair. No, that couldn’t be right. Clarissa couldn’t imagine who would actually want the annoying little woman. And Drake was clearly enamored of his new wife. It had only been a year. He’d find out soon enough how fast that wore off, even if Clark hadn’tworn offher yet. Damn the man for dying.
Then she thought about Rose’s final instructions before Taz had burst into the conference room. Being nicer to everyone around her, whether they deserved it or not—mostly not—was going to be hell.
“But I still have work to do here,” Miranda kept protesting.
Clarissa opened her mouth but then bit her tongue to avoid cutting the woman off.
“We still need to—”
“—be ready to support your findings at this meeting. Presidential order. You found out it was a satellite attack and only on one pilot. That’s, sadly, far better news than I’d feared.” Drake had slid into the middle of Miranda’s sentence as if they were speaking with the same voice.
“Rather than a strike against the carrier itself. Yes.”
It had worked! Damn but that was slick. Clarissa would have to remember that tactic the next time Miranda—
“I need you there in case the discussion requires an eyewitness of the technical details.”
“But—”
Or maybe it hadn’t worked.
“—how are we supposed to get there in time?”
“Miranda,” Clarissa leaned in and explained, because sometimes it was too obvious. “You’re on an aircraft carrier. Ask the captain for a helicopter or something.”
“And if she says no?”
“She won’t.” She imagined that after having Miranda aboard for seven hours, the captain would be thrilled to be rid of the NTSB team. “Have that Commander Piazza ask for you.”
“Okay,” and Miranda hung up without any further comment.
“Why didn’t you call her earlier?” Clarissa asked. “AndIfor one am not going to buy any crock about you being afraid she was sleeping.”
“It’s 0300 their time—”