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Miranda wasn’t sure where Holly had gone. Her sheets were still on the great room couch, but she was nowhere to be seen. She couldn’t easily imagine her being in Mike’s room, but his door was closed and Mike usually slept with it cracked open.
All the cars were still out front, so, however much Holly had declared it to be impossible, Mike’s room was where she must be.
To get to the airport, Miranda borrowed Holly’s Corvette—which was almost as fun as a jet—and was soon racing her F-86 Sabrejet east across the country at just below the speed of sound. She flew high, at 45,000 feet, and caught up with the sunrise shortly before descending into Washington, DC.
A taxi delivered her to CIA headquarters and the pass issued by Vice President Clark Winston, when he was still the director he
