Crashers (46 page)

Walter turned to him with a rueful smile. “A handful?”

“Yes. Absolutely. Fifty. A hundred, tops.”

Walter tossed his pen down on his legal pad. “Dang. I hadn't thought of it in those terms.”

Peter threw up his hands in disgust. “Come on!”

Susan Tanaka turned to Del Wildman. “Until the fix-it function of the Gamelan is detached, permanently, from the software, we should ground every aircraft with that technology.
Just
till then. If it takes months, fine. If it takes weeks, all the better. But until then, I'm afraid Kiki and Isaiah are right.”

She turned to Walter and Peter. “And the day after that element is removed, we recommend
every
airliner gets a Gamelan. Because you're not wrong: the data is tremendous.”

The vote was five to one to ground the Gamelan-fitted airliners. Wildman picked up his raincoat and loosened his tie. “I'll take it to the board tomorrow morning. Thank you, folks. You did a hell of a job out there.”

Isaiah said, “Did anyone check on the Israeli woman? Daria? Is she okay?”

Susan nodded. “She apparently is healing from her wounds. Ray said she'll be fine and that she was debriefed by the FBI in Los Angeles. With her help, the FBI knows all about the Red Fist's plot. She's getting some kind of civilian commendation from them.”

“She's also going to get a commendation from us,” Del Wildman said. “Way I heard it, she saved you all.”

As he walked to the door, Kiki said, “Sir? Have you heard anything about Tommy?”

“Not yet. No.”

Peter, angrily jamming papers into his leather portfolio, snorted a laugh. “The Intelligence Committee hearing? This time tomorrow, Tomzak and what's-his-name will be on the unemployment line, best-case scenario. Worst-case: they'll be in Leavenworth.”

Kiki glared at him. “His name is Ray Calabrese, you horse's ass. And what he and Tommy did was heroic.”

“Good.” Peter stood, buttoned his suit coat. “Because
heroic
looks really good on the old résumé.”

Wildman cut in. “Tommy's methods aren't by the book, Peter. And what he did was pretty damn stupid from my perspective. But I swear to God almighty, no matter what the congressional investigation shows, that's the last time I let that man resign from the NTSB. While I've got a job, he's got a job.”

Peter sneered. Kiki laughed. “Think positive, Peter. It's not like they're facing a lawsuit from a farmer whose lawn and white picket fence they destroyed.”

Peter Kim stormed out of the room. Isaiah stood. “Want to head over to Capitol Hill, see if we can lend some moral support?”

Susan had an official report to finalize but Kiki jumped at the chance.

Tommy Tomzak and Ray Calabrese sat on a wooden bench outside the hearing room of the Joint Intelligence Committee. Tommy leaned back, ankles crossed, legs stretched out, his tie loosened. Ray leaned forward, elbows on knees. The doctors had shaved his head to get to the scalp wound that had resulted in a mild concussion. A week on, it was growing back in but still looked weird.

They were quiet for a time.

“So.” Tommy scratched his chin.

“Yeah.”

“I was thinking. I could murder a steak.”

Ray looked his way. “T-bone?”

“Sure.”

“Where do you stand on the issue of side dishes? 'Cause it's important.”

Tommy thought about it. “I'm inclined toward the steak fry but I have never said no to garlic mashed potatoes.”

“I'm an onion-ring man.”

Tommy said, “I am not doctrinaire.”

“Okay.”

They were quiet again. About twenty feet down the corridor, Kiki Duvall and Isaiah Grey rounded the corner and spotted them.

“Hey!” Kiki ran the last bit. Tommy surprised her by grabbing her wrist and dropping her down onto his lap.

“Tommy! It's Congress!”

Isaiah said, “So, are you still waiting?”

Ray shook his head. “It's over.”

A beat, and Kiki said, “And . . . ?”

Ray shrugged. He stood and Kiki did, too, followed by Tommy. “We were talking about getting a steak. You guys in?”

Kiki had had enough. She held her ground and, as she was holding Tommy's hand, he did, too. The advantage of being taller and more athletic than your guy. “What happened!” Tommy responded by kissing her.

Ray said, “Look, I got concussed last week. But near as I can tell, we just get, what . . . ? The oral equivalent of the Congressional Medal of Honor?”

Tommy ran a hand through his hair and puffed out his cheeks. “It was a might confusing. They talked a lot about valor and
thinking outside the box.
One of them used the word
gumption,
which is something my grandmother used to say and I can't rightly claim I know what the word means. So . . . yeah. Maybe.”

Ray rubbed his eyes. “Look, would someone just buy me a damn steak?”

Isaiah threw an arm over his shoulder as they walked off. Tommy kissed Kiki again.

She separated, looked him in the eyes. “You got kudos for stealing a jet?”

He smiled. “Didn't see that shit comin'.”