thought we were investigating the crash?” Jeremy covered his face as Mike brushed Holly’s and his own crumbs onto Jeremy.
“You are. You were. You are.” Jon looked at her as if she knew what he was talking about. “I told Miranda earlier that—”
“Not about another team.” She didn’t like that someone didn’t trust her team.
“Yes. No. I started to. We don’t lose a three-star general without upsetting a lot of people.”
“Penguins.”
Now the team was looking at her strangely.
“We were discussing the ratio of flying penguins in a known population versus the number of three-star lieutenant generals and—”
“That’s easy. An infinite ratio. You’re dividing by zero,” Jeremy peeked out from under his hand to see if another shower of pastry crust flakes was inbound.
“That’s what I told him. He was—”
“Miranda,” Jon didn’t hit the last –da hard, but it sounded as if he wanted to. “They launched a full team in our direction the moment they found out that JJ Rodriguez was aboard.”
“Supposedly aboard,” Holly corrected him.
“Right. I never had a chance to mention it because when I got up here, you were already deep in the investigation.”
“Been just sitting here through lunch, mate.” Holly’s sneer was accurate.
“Right, sorry. I should have said. Anyway. They’re called off.”
“But didn’t we just decide that there’s nothing further to investigate here as it has a known cause—intentional destruction?” Mike found some more crumbs that Holly had gotten on him. Jeremy ducked aside before they were showered over him.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jon sighed.
“Why not?”
“Because, Miranda, there’s another crash. Far worse than this. An AC-130J Ghostrider Block 30, flying out of Edwards Air Force Base—we’re sure of that much this time—just plowed into Avalon Harbor on Santa Catalina Island off LA during a planned testing flight. At least fifty confirmed dead, but probably a lot higher.”
“How long ago?”
“Just over an hour. A lot of things are still on fire. Multiple engine failures. At the moment of trouble, they clipped the observer plane and it went down with all hands as well. Then they spilled people in parachutes over twenty miles. While fighting for control, they wandered out of the test zone, ultimately ramming the pier at Avalon. Looks to actually be an accident, as the plane was under only marginal control. The pilots never got out.”
Miranda felt a chill, not just from the cool Aspen air.
First a Spectre and now a Ghostrider? Two gunships down within hours of each other—built forty years apart but both AC-130s.
She hated plane crashes, but she’d wager that she’d like this one even less than usual.
26
Once aboard the helo, Jeff had asked if he could go “help” with the California crash. Before Miranda could even consider the request, his father shut that down.
“You can watch it on TV. It’ll be the only thing on all the news channels.”
For the rest of the short flight down the mountain, Miranda struggled to fit together the pieces.
The AC-130J Ghostrider had several unique features that were unfamiliar. The biggest change was the laser system. She needed to go inspect one so that she’d know how to understand its possible effects. Beyond its five-ton mass, she knew little about it.
She also needed to inspect the new crash.
And if there was still an undead general involved, then…
Miranda felt torn in all three directions. And a part of her wanted to return to the top of Snowmass and study the unusual effects of such a complete and destructive impact.
When she stepped from the HeliSee helicopter back onto the ground at Aspen airport, Jeff clasped her around the middle in a hard hug. She held his shoulders tightly for a moment—an almost hug—before she tried pushing him back. He went more easily this time so neither of them landed on their butts, though she kept a firm hold on him until she was sure of the success of that strategy.
He looked up at her face. “I’m gonna learn everything and then I’m gonna come work for you, Ms. Chase. We’re gonna save planes together.”
Brett had come up behind his son.
“Dad, for Christmas I want a vest with a lot of pockets and tools. A notebook to write cool stuff down in, and an anonymommenator.”
“It’s only June, short stuff,” Brett said, keeping a hand on Jeff’s shoulder.
“It’s what I want,” Jeff insisted. “Don’t forget the aniometer. It’s important.”
Again, Brett’s eyebrows raised above his aviators as he turned his attention to Miranda. “Seems you made quite the impression.”
“I’m sorry.” Miranda pictured Jeff’s terror over his father’s possible death and his commitment