Page 81 of Air Force One (Miranda Chase #16)

“Thank you, Ms. Chase,” President Feldman stepped onto the stage. During the campaign, Sarah had learned that thinking of herself as the next President, had placed her in a presidential mindset for appearances. But some things took precedent. “You may call me Sarah at any time.”

“Then why did you just call me Ms. Chase?”

“Miranda, then.”

“But—”

Andi Wu came up, looped an arm through Miranda’s, and led her away before she could ask more questions. Miranda always had more questions. Her dog trotted along beside them.

Sarah waited until they were off stage. Then she turned to face the audience though she didn’t step to the podium. It was enough that she was here, the President visiting the Pentagon.

It was enough that she could see the two Chiefs of Staff in the first row, their initial gasp of relief returning to cautious silence as they eyed the armed sailors guarding each exit.

They now suspected and would soon know. She glanced at the now-dark cameras that had been broadcasting Miranda’s analysis to the world. Soon they too would know, but not yet.

Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Elizabeth Gray-Nason crossed from the wings to the podium and introduced herself. After that, Elizabeth didn’t waste any words.

“Every person seated in this audience is hereby accused of one of two illegal actions. Fourteen of you are to be charged with conspiring to murder the duly elected President of the United States, Sarah Feldman. Due to his hastily planned final trip and the unanticipated use of Air Force One before his retirement, you also stand accused of being complicit in the murder of President Roy Cole, First Lady Rose Cole, and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Drake Nason in addition to the other personnel on that flight. Further, you will all be charged as felony accomplices for the destruction of property, specifically the multi-billion-dollar military asset commonly called Air Force One.”

Sarah couldn’t look at Carl Crawford. They’d campaigned together, both fought for their country; she’d thought they’d become more than colleagues—friends. Yet he had recruited a team as carefully as Miranda’s team had recruited their spy network—almost as carefully.

“All of you will be charged with agreeing to support Vice President Carl Crawford in staging a full military coup after he had attained the Presidency through President Feldman’s death.”

Taz Cortez’s spy network had unraveled that it wasn’t merely the unstoppable ego of a single man wanting to command the Oval Office by killing her.

Her team had revealed a far more dangerous plot.

Crawford believed that the military should run the nation with him as the commanding general—all power concentrated in one man’s hands.

When this arrest first reached the news, it would look politically motivated. As if Sarah was the one consolidating power. Only when the charged were revealed would it become clear that she was stopping a military coup rather than staging her own Executive Branch one from the Oval Office.

Elizabeth continued as steady as a rock. Sarah assumed they would both weep later, each in the privacy of their showers.

“The evidence of your crimes has already been collected. In the last fifteen minutes, it has been submitted to the Judge Advocate General’s Corps for each of your appropriate military branches.

Your offices are currently being stripped.

Do not bother erasing your phones—by a legal warrant, we have already copied every text, email, and image from each one.

Fourteen people in this room are to be charged with murder and all eighty-three of you, per the US Attorney General’s interpretation of the Constitution Article III Section 3, treason.

You will be tried by general courts-martial.

The Attorney General has already decreed that there will be no bail before trial. No deals will be struck.”

Sarah couldn’t stop the tear that escaped and rolled down her cheek. Not for the threats to her own life, but for the threat to her country’s democratic core.

“Per Article 31 (b) of the Uniform Code of Military Justice,” Elizabeth hesitated.

She and Sarah had laughed together, briefly and bitterly, when planning this moment.

The civilian equivalent to the military code was known as the Miranda Rights.

The sheer irony of it all—for Miranda Chase was the ultimate champion of justice, but for her airplanes, not people—was galling.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and continued.

“You all have the right to remain silent. Anything you say…”