Page 33 of Air Force One (Miranda Chase #16)

She didn’t really understand why, but she knew better than to question Mike on those kinds of questions.

They’d all gathered on the helo deck and seen Jeremy and the recorders depart and head for shore.

Mike had been keeping an eye on the afterdeck where the bodies were being brought aboard.

Without warning, he sprinted away, rushing down the ladder from the helicopter platform so fast that Miranda feared he’d fallen.

Then she saw him dodging body bags across the rear sea deck and grab a hold of Holly, so everything was okay.

She’d been worried when Holly hadn’t returned with the recorders. Now she could stop worrying.

“Okay, what’s next?” Andi asked.

“I…” Miranda didn’t have an answer. Not because there weren’t actions to take, but because she didn’t know which ones took priority.

“…don’t know. There isn’t…” She looked around at the hundred disconnected pieces.

Three ships, the fuel tender pumping out the plane’s wings, rescue boats in many sizes, Jeremy was now headed to NTSB headquarters in Washington, bodies kept coming aboard the ship, news helicopters circling.

They weren’t allowed to fly over the wreck, but they did circle.

“Do they have cameras?”

“Sure.”

“Television cameras?”

Andi nodded.

Miranda checked her notebook to be sure: Hiding behind A. is an ineffective strategy for avoiding national TV. She’d remembered it correctly. She always did, but she liked having the written reminder to be certain. “National television cameras?”

“What’s wrong?”

She showed the note to Andi—who laughed. “Well, if they’re going to look anyway, let’s give them something to look at.” And she stepped so close that Miranda could hug her or fall over backward. She hugged her. Maybe the cameras weren’t so awful.

“Forget about them. All right, I know you can’t do that, but they aren’t important. What’s next?”

“I really don’t know.”

Andi stepped back and studied her face. Even with Andi, Miranda couldn’t look at her eyes when she did that. “Why not?”

Miranda flapped her hands helplessly. There were so many pieces.

So many different bits moving about. Hundreds of Coast Guard men and women hurrying about their tasks.

It was so important. President Feldman had been very insistent about the importance of this investigation.

It was a plane crash. What could be more important than that? There were too many—

Somewhere, sounding very far away, a dog whined. Something butted hard against her calf.

Andi looked down and away. Then she swore vehemently.

Miranda didn’t know why. Couldn’t see anything but the thousand decision threads tracing away from her in dark light like an impossible labyrinthine…labyrinth!

Andi twisted to face Miranda so abruptly she nearly stumbled backward down the stairs Mike had descended.

“I’m so sorry, Miranda.” Andi clamped strong hands on each of Miranda’s biceps and pulled her close.

Her voice suddenly shifted to very steady.

Very soothing. “Miranda. Take a breath. Take a breath. Good. Now another. That’s it.

When you feel ready, we’ll look at your crash notebook together and figure out what to do. ”

Miranda gasped. Then she leaned in and kissed Andi. Then she pet Meg for being such a smart dog.

“What was that for?”

She made a quick note in her personal notebook and showed it to Andi.

“Remember to ask Andi for help. Well, duh!” They smiled together. “Why this time?”

“I never started my notebook for this crash.” She pulled out a fresh one and carefully labeled it Air Force One. Then she extracted her weather gauge from her vest pocket to measure the temperature, wind speed, and direction. “I wish I’d measured it when we first arrived.” She noted the readings.

“The Terrain is next.” Andi knew Miranda’s system of investigation almost as well as she did.

The nested spheres of: weather, terrain, debris extent, debris, the crash itself, and human factors—in that order.

She must not forget the outer meta-sphere to which she could attach temporary hypotheses for further consideration.

In this case, there was only one and it was a fact because General Owen had told her himself before he died.

She wrote Four-engine failure (actual) in the meta-sphere category.

Then she crossed it out and added another, new sphere, Known Facts and re-added the entry.

It wasn’t the whole answer, but it was nonetheless true.

And it was a whole new sphere that she’d added without prompting.

When she showed the innovation to Andi, it had earned her a smile, hug, and kiss, reinforcing that she’d done something right.

Besides, it felt far better than merely patting herself on the back.

She made a note to consider the implications of self-based versus other-provided positive reinforcements… when she had more time.

Under Terrain she noted down: Ocean - Continental Shelf. The latter seemed relevant as the nose was stuck down into its mud.

Debris extent was trickier.

“They already collected all the surface debris before we got here,” Andi pointed to the small pile on the lower deck.

It was beside the first body bag that had been the only one when they arrived.

“I went through it. Just what you’d expect, various personal effects.

Nothing from the plane itself. That ROV we sent down didn’t spot anything on the ocean floor.

So that’s the extent of your debris field. ”

“No, that isn’t correct. Engine Number Four is still missing.”

Andi nodded. “You’re absolutely right. We’ll inspect that when it’s found.”

Miranda made a note of that. “What’s next?”

“The crash itself.”

“Should we suit up and go see it?”

“No,” Holly’s voice was rough as she came up to them.

“You really don’t want to do that.” She leaned heavily against Mike as if she might collapse to the deck without his support.

Her wet suit covered her from the waist down.

A towel peeked out either end of the heavy USCG coat that someone had wrapped around her.

Her eyes were bloodshot and her fair skin looked even paler than usual.

Holly’s hood was up, making her look like a military street thug who was half human and half neoprene mermaid.

Miranda patted herself on the back. She wasn’t sure if it was a good metaphor, but it was certainly one of the most complex she’d ever managed to assemble.

“The plane isn’t embedded as hard into the mud as you might expect; it’s definitely reacting to the wing tanks being pumped dry.

I swam down, only one window is out, at least in the aft two-thirds.

Probably the one for the seat that first body had been in.

Once we have the bodies out, we could close the rear stairs and have the Coasties fabricate a window patch—second from the rear on the port side.

Then we could try pumping in air. She might refloat on her own if there are no bad surprises farther forward.

Though towing her through this shit might take some serious doing. ” She looked up at the sky.

Miranda did too. It didn’t take a degree in meteorology—Miranda had only taken it as a minor in college but she’d stayed abreast of innovations since then—to see how fast the weather was shifting.

As much as she hated to remove a plane from its crash site, it would be far easier to inspect on land.

That’s what they’d done with TWA 800. They’d spent months collecting parts from the ocean floor and then spent years reassembling it in a land-based hangar.

She and Andi exchanged looks. Without speaking, she could see that they agreed that was the right next step. “Let’s go talk to the captain.”

“Uh,” Mike glanced at Holly. “You two go ahead. We need to talk about something.”

Glad to once again have some understanding of the situation, Miranda tugged on Andi’s hand and they hurried inside and up the many stairs leading to the bridge.