79
“Is that you, Eight-niner?” The question sounded over the Sit Room’s speakers.
Miranda couldn’t focus on anything since the Antonov had begun its “out of control” descent.
Lizzy had managed to position a satellite so that they could see the infrared heat blooms off the Antonov’s engines as it flew southeast toward Japan. But it had gone silent, no lights or radios. If they lost track of it, they’d never find it again in the vast wilderness.
Mike had a phone to his ear, one connected to the decoy C-5 Galaxy’s radio via an encrypted satellite link.
“This is Eight-niner,” he spoke in passable Russian. “We have successful engine restart and are back at safe altitude.”
“Excellent. Congratulations.”
“That was close. Save vodka for me.” Mike joked in Russian.
Miranda winced a little at
