a reminder that— “You once said that we just investigate crashes. That it’s what we do.”
“Actually, you said it, Miranda. I just agreed. You’re still right.”
“So, you and I are going to the crash.”
“It’s what we do,” Holly nodded. “What about these three amigos? You,” she pointed at Jeremy, “are obviously Martin Short. Mike is definitely in the Steve Martin role. Jon, that leaves you playing Chevy Chase.”
Once again, Miranda had no idea what one of her team members was talking about. Except she was fairly sure Steve Martin was a banjo player; she wasn’t a fan of bluegrass music.
The three men lined up side by side. They slapped their right hands to their own left shoulders, then left to right. Hands on their hips, they turned their heads and coughed as they did a pelvic thrust. Then they began a quick shuffle step where they tried to dance around each other in figure eights, instead colliding hard enough that they all would have fallen to the ground if their combined momentums hadn’t canceled each other out.
Holly was laughing.
Then the three of them lined up and shouted out, “The Three Amigos!”
Miranda decided it was definitely better not to know, and made a note in her notebook about the potential long-term viability of ignoring obscure cultural references.
Jon’s phone rang again.
“Holly and I are going to investigate the crash on Catalina Island,” Miranda told the others once she’d finished her note and tucked the notebook back in its pocket. “Jeremy and Mike, you’re going to Washington, DC. I want you to investigate two things. Mike, talk to Drake to get more information about General JJ Martinez. Jeremy, I want you to study the AC-130J Ghostrider at Andrews. We need to understand the modifications, especially those introduced in the Block 30 upgrade.”
“Cool!” Jeremy shot her a double thumbs-up, almost losing his tablet to the pavement.
Mike looked less certain. “Perhaps…” He tipped his head as if cracking his spine, a very Holly-like gesture.
Holly picked up his thought before Miranda could ask, “Perhaps…not Drake. He’s more stubborn than an Ozzie shepherd dog. Sounds like his claws are dug in pretty deep on the subject of General JJ.”
“Precisely my thought, Holly. Wow! You do have a brain in that pretty head of yours. I thought it was just for show.” Mike dodged behind Jeremy before Holly could take a swing at him.
Miranda would trust to their judgment on that. “How about Lizzy? She’s close to Drake and may know something.” She was the only other general who Miranda knew in DC.
Holly snorted, “The director of the National Reconnaissance Office? I’d bet that General Elizabeth Gray knows far more than her boyfriend suspects. When are those two gonna do more than have a naughty anyway?”
“A naughty?” Miranda could help herself.
“A bangaroo. A good time in the sack. She needs to be making an honest man out of him some day.”
Jon rejoined them, “Where do you want me?”
Hopefully he’d been informing his commander that Miranda only worked for the NTSB: past, present, and future.
Where did she want Jon?
Jon was an able crash investigator, but so were she and Holly, and they’d both be in California. Mike’s specialty was people, not aircraft, and Jeremy still suffered from her own old failing of too narrow a focus.
“I need you with Jeremy and Mike.” He frowned for a moment, but then he glanced at Jeremy and it switched to a broad smile almost immediately.
“Got it! Wherever liberty is threatened, you will find—”
“—The Three Amigos!” They all shouted it in unison and fired pretend guns made of fists and fingers into the air. Their bright HeliSee hats looked nothing like Mexican sombreros despite their oversized brims.
“No, I don’t want you to fight. I want you to…”
Holly rested her hand on Miranda’s arm just long enough to stop her. “It’s a quote from a comedy movie named The Three Amigos. They’re just big boys. Let them have their moment.”
“Let’s ride!” They shouted again, grabbing their packs and storming aboard one of the airplanes. They jostled each other like five-year-olds as they struggled to all go up the narrow gangway together.
Jon, last aboard, blew her a kiss from the entry before ducking inside. One of the pilots rolled his eyes as he leaned out to pull up the gangway from inside—yet another misdirected expression. In moments, the plane was taxiing toward the runway.
She and Holly climbed aboard the second plane like normal people.
Once they were seated and their plane was moving as well, she