“Hi, Miranda.”
Drake had made the call on speakerphone, which Clarissa appreciated, though it was hard to hear. The Gulfstream X-54B was a military test plane and not much effort had gone into sound insulation. It wasn’t as loud as a C-130 Hercules—but it wasn’t some nicely muted jetliner either.
“Hello, Drake.” It sounded as if she stood in the middle of a Jamaican steel drum band competition, with each band playing a different tune.
“I was afraid that I’d wake you up.”
“No.”
Clarissa, at least, knew better. She’d been shoulder-to-shoulder with Miranda through the night of the investigation into Clark’s death. And all last night with an equally driven Jeremy. Until the crash was solved, there would be no rest for her.
“Oh, good. Well, I need your team in Brunei in three hours.”
“Wh
