Page 46 of Air Force One (Miranda Chase #16)
Neither of them had slept on the red-eye flight from Seattle to DC. Worse, there’d been a connection and a flight delay. It didn’t matter. Mui and Mei-Li had discussed the possible implications of the tickets throughout the flight. Knowing the who had offered no clues as to the why.
Logging onto the plane’s Wi-Fi, they’d been able to watch the curious entourage off the Delaware coast. Two deep-sea salvage tugs towing an upside-down Air Force One through the heavy waves.
It was hard to know whether to laugh or scream at the hundreds of gawkers’ boats that had come out to meet the plane.
The Coast Guard had to launch more and more assets into the storm to rescue them as they swamped, capsized, collided, and every other variation imaginable.
After them all, a lone cutter continued to drive backward. News reporters said that it was to keep pressure off the damaged bow. They were backing their way to Norfolk.
And for the long hours in between, when all new ideas eluded them, they watched mesmerized by the slow towing of Air Force One back from its ocean grave.
The commentary was all about how could the plane have crashed and who could they blame and how the entire Air Force should be fired for incompetence and…
But other than various bits of archive footage, it was the action shot they had.
There were also hastily assembled obituaries tracing the life and times of Roy and Rose Cole and Drake Nason.
Roy and Drake had signed the card welcoming her and Mui to US citizenship after expediting passports for them.
They had offered her and Mui a citizen’s safety at a moment when they’d expected their lives were over. They’d given her hope.
Mei-Li had never killed anyone, though there were many she had wished she could.
Curiously, almost every one of them was now dead—by others’ hands or events, but dead nonetheless.
She still had the card signed by Drake, Roy, and Lizzy welcoming her and Mui to the US.
It had been included in a simple mailer with two US passports—the best gift of her life excepting only finding Mui.
If she found out who had killed Drake and Roy, she wouldn’t wait for anyone else to kill them.
She’d find a way to do it herself and damn the consequences.
“No instructions,” Mui noted for the tenth time as they cleared through the security exit.
They’d traveled light, carry-on only. Mei-Li had considered checking a small bag so that she could bring some weapons with her, but that had never been her strength.
And the person who’d bought their tickets and they were probably meeting was beyond expert.
For lack of anything better to do, they headed to the baggage claim conveyor for their flight.
And there she was.
Mui stood close before Wang Daiyu and bowed in greeting.
Mei-Li remained far more cautious. Yes, she was the assistant of Mui’s grandfather, Liú Zuocheng.
But he was the powerful head of the CMC, which she despised beyond breathing.
If she could figure out how to reach them all together, she’d gladly have sacrificed herself just to remove them from the face of the Earth.
Wang was also Zhang Ru’s wife—the man who had owned Mei-Li for years, giving her body as favors to the rich, the powerful, and the thoughtlessly cruel—until she managed her escape.
She wished them both slow and painful deaths.
Daiyu’s careful bow showed that she read Mei-Li’s distrust.
“You bought us tickets, and we came. So why are we here?” No pleasantries. No gentle greeting. No inquiries about her and General Liú’s health—she threw the words in Daiyu’s face. And she refused to feel ashamed by her own rudeness.
“You have adopted many Western ways already.”
Daiyu might as well have slapped her. Shame’s heat rushed to her cheeks despite her orders not to.
“I have been in the air for eighteen hours.” Without another word Daiyu turned and led the way through the travel-battered people gathered at the various conveyor belts. Daiyu led them into the Café Americana at the end of baggage claim.
At Mui’s easy shrug, Mei-Li followed along, though she didn’t like it. But she did notice that Wang Daiyu’s pack was no bigger than either of theirs, little more than a daypack. She too carried no suitcase or luggage. Which meant no weapons—or at least no obvious ones.
Mei-Li ordered a Reuben sandwich—she’d grown a real weakness for them since coming to America. Daiyu and Mui split a Buffalo Chicken pizza that also smelled great. She and Mui invariably cooked Chinese food at home but, when eating out, it was always American fare.
“Why are we here?” she asked again after taking the time to savor the first bite.
“Two reasons. First, I must speak to the President.”
“He’s in China.”
“The American one.”
Mei-Li shrugged, “So speak to her. Call the embassy or whatever. I’m guessing she’s kind of busy today.”
Mui rolled her eyes, but Mei-Li ignored her and took another bite of her sandwich.
“It is forbidden. It must be without their knowledge.” That, at least, was interesting. “This information can not ever be traced back to me.”
Before Mei-Li could jab at Daiyu again, Mui spoke softly. “Which means it must not be traceable back to Grandfather Zuocheng. I don’t understand how we can help. Our best connection was to their general who died aboard Air Force One yesterday.”
“I met his wife, the one to be the new Chairman of their Joint Chiefs of Staff.” Mei-Li shrugged. “But it was very brief; we were at an airshow. I doubt if she’d remember me. We never actually spoke.”
“She is not the only one you met at that airshow. Zhang Ru told me.”
She could never trust a woman who had been with that…that…monster! Especially not by choice.
Daiyu obviously read her expression but her own remained unchanged. “A small fact that may interest you: I had the pleasure of ending his existence. Then we left his body for the wolves to feed on so that his spirit would never know rest.”
Mei-Li was slow to recover. She’d assumed his death or imprisonment but not dared to truly hope—the death of Central Military Commission members wasn’t exactly public news.
Slow, deep breaths didn’t help make it any more real; but there was no doubting Daiyu’s statement.
Mei-Li managed a nod for her to continue, the best she could manage at the moment.
“You met others.” Daiyu picked up her pizza and took a bite to signal it was Mei-Li’s turn to provide some useful information.
“There were the two women who swore in the US President yesterday. I can—”
“Not Miranda. I had the opportunity to work with them a few years ago. I would trust her discretion only if hard pressed. She has certain…”
“…challenges.” Mei-Li recalled hearing about those. Hearing about those from Taz and Jeremy. Taz. Colonel Vicki Taz The Taser Cortez. Maybe she would know how to make such a meeting happen.
She pulled out her phone and found the number. They hadn’t spoken in four years, but just maybe…