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“I already told the Air Force that I wasn’t done seven times. I do not understand why they thought sending a Navy commander to ask their question would alter my answer. However, we were discussing that a moment ago. I know that they’re eager to have this runway back in operation but—”
“Couldn’t care about the runway.”
Miranda wasn’t sure how to complete her sentence after that.
“I’ve been told to deliver you to a new incident. I’m Commander Susan Piazza, by the way. You can call me Sam or Susan, I answer to both. Or Commander Piazza, I answer to that too.”
“Sam?” Mike asked before she could.
“It’s my nickname, Susan Ann Marie, Sam. Not like Samantha, but a lot like a surface-to-air missile.” Her smile said how much she liked that idea.
“But we aren’t done with the old incident, Susan.” Miranda looked at the debris field about their feet, but she could feel this investigation slipping away and she didn’t know how to stop it.
Sam… No, she’d said that was a nickname. Weren’t nicknames for usage between friends? Miranda didn’t know her, so Sam would most likely be inappropriate.
Susanshrugged. “How do I put this nicely? Hmm… Admiral Stanislaw doesn’t care. I think that about covers it. I hope that isn’t a problem.”
“I work for the NTSB, the National Transportation Safety Board, not the United States Navy. My job is to—”
“Go where you’re most needed. Right?”
Miranda couldn’t figure out how to argue with that either, but it was not her sentence. It had been…hijacked, like an airplane. That left it still incomplete by her assessment.
“Right now, you’re most needed at another location. I have a jet waiting.”
“I have a jet.”
“The pretty little Citation M2? I’d ask how it handles, but I fly helicopters not jets, so your answer wouldn’t mean anything. And the helo’s only for the fun of it on my own time and dime. The Navy didn’t want female jet jockeys back when I was a young gal lieutenant—most of them still don’t, truth be told. I’m sorry, ma’am, your little puddle jumper won’t do. We’re going much farther than its range. I’ll make arrangements to have it tucked into a hangar out of the weather. Shall we go?”
Without waiting for an answer, Susan turned to her vehicle.
Still stuck with two unfinished sentences, Miranda looked at the others for guidance.
Mike tapped the edge of the tablet in Miranda’s hands. “I think that everything we need is going to be in here. We can tell them to keep the bigger parts in a hangar for us, in case we need to come back and look at something.”
Holly patted the 3D camera she’d taken over when Jeremy had left. “I snapped images from here to the Alice. Should be able to look at all you need to.”
Miranda wasn’t sure what Alice Springs in the middle of the Australian Outback had to do with images, but she supposed that Holly must or she wouldn’t have said it.
Susan hadn’t driven the Humvee away. She sat in her vehicle with her door closed. She was on the radio, perhaps arranging for the proper storage of Miranda’s personal jet.
Lastly Miranda turned to Andi.
Andi took her time answering.
“I know helicopters. Even after a year with your team, I don’t have the feel for jets. Do your instincts say that we have enough information? I don’t even know who Admiral Stanislaw is, so I don’t find him terribly worrying.”
“He’s the admiral serving on the Joint Chiefs of Staff with Drake. The top advisor on all Naval matters to Roy.” Miranda answered.
Andi blushed. “Okay, maybe I should have known that. I guess if the man who advises the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and the President says this is more important, maybe itismore important.”
Miranda turned to look one last time at the wreck of the KC-46 Pegasus. Onelasttime? Was that her instincts talking or was it the inevitability of the situation? She didn’t know, but she supposed that the decision was out of her hands either way—no matter how wrong it felt.
Despite Commander Piazza’s politeness, there was little doubting that she meant to have her way.
Miranda pocketed the drive from the QAR, returned Mike’s tablet computer, and tucked the adapter in with the other three that she most commonly used and always kept on her person during investigations.
Holly picked up the black box recorder. It would be sent to the NTSB Main Office for analysis. Analysis by Jeremy? He now worked in their DC lab, or he would by next week.
