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Andi had flown through Incirlik any number of times. In the past her layovers had been brief and always happened in the middle of the night.
Which it might as well be. Ten p.m. local on minimal sleep certainly felt like the middle of the night. The entire team had spent the last four hours and thirty-six minutes of the flight modeling, in precise detail, exactly what GPS aberrations would have been necessary to cause the collision of the two planes in Alaska.
Miranda wasn’t merely thorough; she was practically terrifying. By the time they were done, Andi felt as if she’d flown every inch of both flights herself.
Once they’d done the first round of calcs, they’d settled in the plane’s luxurious movie theater. Keeping the windows dark as they flew through the rest of the day and into
