8
Andi could feel the gears grinding in her head. So the Tall Blonde b***h Australian wasn’t the one in charge.
Andi had felt herself all poised to despise the team leader—except Holly wasn’t. Holly, Jeremy, Mike. She repeated that a few times to drill their names in. And Major Jon Swift.
Andi focused once more on the pilot “boss lady.” She had pulled on a pocketed vest, heavily filled with tools, and was tapping each one as if double-checking what was where. Everyone waited patiently even though it took a long thirty seconds.
Andi glanced aloft. Even the vultures circling high on the evening thermals baking off the salt pan airfield appeared to be waiting.
The last thing the pilot did was hang her badge around her neck, then make sure it was face out.
Miranda Chase, NTSB.
Jesus!
S
