Andi hung up the phone and turned to the others waiting impatiently in the Tacoma Narrows Airport hangar office.
The Cessna Citation M2 jet was fully fueled and already rolled out of the hangar, and still there’d been no Miranda.
They’d all waited inside watching the news; not hard to guess where they were headed.
There was nothing new on the Vice President’s crash. News helicopters were having to use long-range telephotos because of the no-fly security perimeter. Two camera drones had already been shot from the sky by the Secret Service using an electro-magnetic anti-drone g*n—which was making its own news item.
She’d just been starting to worry that something might have happened to Miranda when she called.
Now Andi was trying to make sense of the stream of instructions. They sounded
