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Drake was considering going home for a couple hours’ sleep.
Last night, he’d foolishly checked his phone at midnight and seen the message about the Condor exploding on the Fort Campbell runway. Now it was eleven at night, twenty-three sleepless hours later. The next expected event was the plane switch planned for three a.m.
But he didn’t want to be the only one to leave. He expected that removing Mike would take some serious explosives, and Miranda never appeared to sleep.
The President and VP had left, but they didn’t really count.
“Hey Lizzy,” he fought off a yawn. “What do you think about—”
“What was that?” Mike jerked upright in his chair.
“What was what?” Drake hadn’t noticed anything.
“Wind it back.” Mike was up on the edge of his seat, practically shouting at Lizzy.
The
