It was considered a dual-faceted paragon of discouragement to any enemy who might attack the USA from the ground or from space. The missiles were ICBMs, specially designed to withstand entry into the earth's atmosphere, and they could also service any threat from outer space, be it an asteroid or unfriendly alien. Peterson Air Force Base was the designated control center for the system.
Although Peterson shares an airfield with the Colorado Springs Municipal Airport, its designated purpose serves much loftier aspirations than the ferrying of customers between airports. It is, in fact, the nerve center for the North American Aerospace Defense Command or NORAD, as more commonly known. Peterson is also the headquarters for the United States Northern Command and the location of the Air Force Space Command headquarters. Cerberus, named for the mythological three-headed hell-hound guarding the gates of the Underworld, not only sees all but can act with devastating consequences. The satellites, in polar orbit some 600 miles above the earth, covered all of the world's land and sea mass at all times, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
Major General Rodgers stood up behind his desk, stretched his short stocky frame and rammed his large, hairy-backed hands down onto the desk with enough force to dislodge several plastic filing trays. He glared at Captain Langley, who anxiously looked toward the closed door, wishing he had left it open.
"Captain, I don't understand! The Console Operators have a procedure to follow—a procedure that does not allow access to be misconstrued or altered in any way. Have they been following the procedure?"
Langley nodded his head. "They have followed the procedure down to the last detail.
I called the Satellite Console Operator on duty last night but got no reply. The cross-over, who took charge at 0600 hours, says that everything appeared to be normal until 0800 hours. At that time we lost the signal."
"This is entirely unacceptable. We need an investigation and possible overhaul of the procedure!" spluttered Rodgers.
"We should be safe though, sir. The satellites cannot be armed without the cipher codes and iris scans," offered Langley whose left eye had suddenly developed a twitch.
"I'm not an idiot, Captain—I know that! Explain to me again what happened after the signal was lost."
Langley continued, "After the signal loss the on-shift SCO tried to gain access with his card but it would not work."
"How is it possible for someone to hijack the access-sign-in to a billion-dollar project like SWANC," queried Rogers. His face was turning red and his voice was showing signs of panic. "Call in the entire staff involved in the monitoring process! I need to speak to each one—alone."
Langley saluted and fled the Major General's office. The initial barrage was over but he knew there was much worse to come. The night shift personnel would have to be contacted and brought in for interrogation. He already had IT personnel checking the system for any malfunction, but nothing like this had ever happened on his watch before.
Later that afternoon, Major General Rodgers interrogated the SWANC supervisors and satellite monitoring staff. The only absentee was Staff Sergeant Malcolm Ensley, the SCO who had been on the previous night shift. The single quarters were within the base security area and the main gate confirmed that Ensley had left the base shortly after his shift ended at 0600 hours.
In order to sign-in to the system, run by the latest super computer, the console operator had to insert his access card which contained that operator's personal identification and classification. Access to the general system allowed the operator to monitor each satellite's orbit details and surveillance functions. The access card of an off-shift console operator was kept in a safe on the base and no one had access to it. When the operator came on shift it was removed from the safe by the supervisor in the presence of that operator who then would sign the access card log.
Everyone was mystified as to how the signal was suddenly lost and the on-shift operator's access card was suddenly not working.
Rodgers completed his interrogation of the personnel and quickly came to a conclusion. The finger of suspicion pointed at Ensley. He had somehow managed to remove his card and possibly duplicate it. The theory was that he might have supplied a fake card for lockup in the safe and then duplicated his real access card, returning it on the following shift—no one was sure.
Major General Rodgers contemplated his next move. The President of the United States would have to be informed that his military no longer had control of SWANC.
He wilted in his chair, rubbing his hand through his hair in a gesture of exasperation. Of all the things to happen on his watch. The seriousness and implications of the security breach were beginning to sink in and he suddenly felt ill.
"Nellie," he bellowed at his secretary. "Please get me General Hollings, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs!"
*
Staff Sergeant Malcolm Ensley drove furiously away from Peterson Air Force Base along Route 24, pushing the old pickup truck to its limits. Once the SWANC system went off-line it wouldn't take Space Operations long to work out his involvement. He had, indeed, handed in a fake card to the Supervisor and handed his real card over to Sammy Binks. Sammy had immediately duplicated the card before returning it to Ensley for his continued use. It was a simple matter to return the real card for use in the system again and nobody had been any the wiser. Ensley was now on his way to an arranged meeting with Sammy, having left the Base at the end of his shift.
Life had certainly taken a new turn after Ensley had met Sammy Binks. He had met Sammy in Frankie's Bar and Grill on North Blvd, not far from the air force base. Ensley enjoyed the quiet atmosphere in the bar and could often be found there on his days off. One particular Saturday night he had been sitting at the counter, minding his own business, when a burly man with large muscular arms, sat down beside him. The man, swaying slightly and getting louder by the minute, leaned in toward Ensley and clumsily knocked over his beer, spilling the entire contents onto the counter and floor. Without apologizing the big man glared at Ensley and accused him of being drunk. The Staff Sergeant, although fairly fit and athletic, was much smaller than his rival, so he got up and began to walk away. The drunk grabbed hold of him from behind and a scuffle ensued, with Ensley ending up on the floor and the bigger man squatting on his stomach. Ensley's assailant then proceeded to punch his victim in the face. That's when Sammy Binks intervened.
Sammy was not by any means a big man, but he lifted the drunk off Ensley with ease and sent him to dreamland with one punch to the jaw. An extremely relieved Ensley was helped to his feet by some by-standers and the unconscious drunk was removed from the bar. The staff sergeant had thanked Sammy profusely for the intervention and offered to buy him a drink. After that they became good friends. They met often during Ensley's off-shift times, sharing their lives and having some good laughs together. Little did the staff sergeant know that the bar-fight, their first meeting and subsequent relationship, had all been orchestrated by Binks in order to gain Ensley's confidence. It had worked like a charm.
Sammy Binks had nurtured Malcolm Ensley for one purpose—to gain access to the SWANC system. The carrot for Ensley was an offer of a great deal of money and a safe haven once the system had been hijacked. After the access card had been successfully duplicated, Binks had made one more requirement of Ensley and that was to download the supercomputer's hard drive onto a zip-drive. Binks's organization would use the drive in their own computer to set up a new system of control and explore the memory bank for the information they needed.
Unbeknownst to Ensley, Binks's organization had the means at their disposal to run through all the possible combinations of arithmetical and alphabetical symbols to provide the accurate cipher codes for access to the central command computers of each satellite. Their tool was the newest form of computing power—the quantum computer. Quantum computers were still in the making and this particular technology was still in its infancy but the advanced model the organization had been able to obtain was powerful enough t
o accomplish what they needed to do.
The hijacking of the general system would be easy once the access card was duplicated and used. The signal would then been changed and Peterson Air Force Base would lose total access.
From that moment onward the Cerberus System would be in foreign hands. The price for Ensley's pernicious act was the loss of his career, but the rewards far outweighed the sacrifice, provided he was not caught. It had all been planned to the last detail. He would hand over the access card and the zip-drive, receive a new identity, a flight out of the US to a South American destination, and a five million dollar transfer into a Swiss bank account. Sammy was a good friend and had helped Ensley with several minor problems over the six-month period of their friendship. With Sammy Binks in charge nothing could go wrong.
On the drive to the meeting place with Binks, Ensley pondered his career. After enlistment and completion of basic training, he had attended the Space Systems Operations School at Vandenberg Air Force base in California. The following six months were spent at Cheyenne Mountain Nuclear Bunker, working on computer systems. He attained an IC6 rating with a top secret clearance classification while working there. A course in Satellite Command and Control followed, resulting in a posting to Peterson Air Force Base, where Malcolm took up his duties as a Space Console Operator. The job was a bit boring, mostly monitoring surveillance satellites and space junk, until SWANC was deployed. The Cerberus Guardian System was the new beast on Space Operations block, requiring a greater measure of security and responsibility. This brought a promotion to the rank of staff sergeant with a modest increase in pay.
With the recollection came a deep sadness of the event that had changed much of his outlook on life. While Ensley was working at Cheyenne, his older brother, Ron, had committed suicide. They had been very close as brothers and had stuck together after the deaths of their parents in a boating accident. Ron had taken responsibility for the tragedy since he had been driving the speedboat at the time. The accident had happened on a Sunday afternoon in March of 2020. The boat was skimming the waters of Lake Tahoe in Sierra Nevada when they collided with another boat. The impact had thrown the family into the water. All four had been wearing life jackets but unfortunately the Ensley seniors had been catapulted into the side of the other boat and killed instantly. Ron had tested positive for alcohol and was indicted to serve a three-year sentence for manslaughter at the Nevada State Prison in Carson City. He had served only six months of the sentence before taking his own life.
To a degree, Ensley blamed himself. They had both been drinking a little too much that day—he should have known better and should have stopped his brother from taking the wheel. As things stood in the present, he was alone in the world and hated it. It had not been difficult for enterprising souls, the likes of Sammy Binks, to pick up on Ensley's grief and use it for an unscrupulous purpose.
Ensley glanced at his watch. The distance to the meeting place in the nearby community of Falcon was approximately 12 miles. The time was 0625 hours and he was nearly there. The meeting had been arranged for 0630 hours in the Pikes Peak Community College parking area, and Sammy had assured him that no one would be around at that hour. A new passport, with a photo to match his new identity, and a vehicle to take Ensley to a nearby airfield where he would be flown out of the country had all been arranged by Binks. Ensley didn't know who Binks worked for but whoever it was had deep pockets.
He finally saw the sign for Meridian Road. Realizing he was near the end of his journey, he placed the truck into auto-drive. The system signaled the truck to turn off the highway and onto Meridian Road and continued to follow the GPS instructions. Finally, about a mile later, the Pikes Peak College sign loomed up on his left. The truck turned left onto Swingline Road and followed on until the campus buildings appeared, windows glinting in the early morning sun. He could see a single vehicle in the car park with a person leaning against the car's door, smoking a cigarette. It was Sammy.
The pickup eased to a stop and Ensley gave the computer the instruction to park. When the vehicle had come to a stop, he jumped down from the cab and grabbed his duffle bag. The two men briefly embraced and with a slap on the back, Sammy said, "Well done, Malcolm!"
Ensley answered excitedly, the adrenaline rush was catching up with him. "When will the loss of signal take place—how much time do I have?"
"At 8:00 a.m. this morning." answered Binks evenly. "You'll have plenty of time, so don't worry. Everything is going according to plan."
Binks opened the car door and pulled out a brief case. Handing it to Ensley, he said, "Here are your identity documents. Read the profile carefully and then destroy it."
The two men stood toe to toe. Sammy blew out the occasional puff of smoke and the staff sergeant listened intently as the early morning sun warmed their cheeks.
"There is also an advance on your payment which will help you in your transit to Buenos Aires, plus instructions as to where you should go after that."
The two men quickly embraced and shook hands. Binks stepped back and concluded, "Take the Ford to Falcon Air Field on the northeast side of town. Park it and make your way to Hanger 3. You'll find the charter flight waiting for you. We'll meet again and there will be one last requirement in order to receive the rest of your money. I will make sure that this final instruction is delivered to you within two weeks. Look after yourself, Malcolm."
Ensley nodded and opened the door of the Ford. "Thanks for everything, Sammy. I will never forget you. Better dump my pickup as soon as possible. The whole of the United States military will be looking for it after they work out what's going on!"
*
The dark shadows cast by the buildings at the Pentagon hid the lone figure creeping stealthily along the inside wall of the westerly wing. The moon was starting to wax gibbous, the rays of light still strong enough to light up the pathways, providing a surreal glow within the open atrium of the Pentagon's buildings.
Danielle Gruber stopped and listened intently. A noise—the sound of a door being rattled had caught her attention. Peering through the semi-light reflected through the hallway windows it became apparent that the current nightshift of the Pentagon Police Department was going through the regular routine, checking up on the various entrance doors that led off the inner area.
Danielle knew the building intimately. She had worked here once upon a time, in the early days before her deployment to Iraq. An intense training in intelligence and field operations had fostered an array of skills that would put many of her contemporaries to shame.
She would have returned to work at the Pentagon following her military stint had it not been for one dark smudge on her record: the accusation of negligence regarding an attack on a supposed terrorist training camp on the border with Iran in which several members of a task force were killed. Gruber was accused of not verifying information she had received from her sources and, as a result, had led the task force into a situation that overwhelmed them.
The commander of the assignment, Captain Alan Morris, along with four other operatives, had died in the incident. The court martial had left her devastated for months until a man named Sammy Binks contacted her offering some work. He said he worked for a powerful lobbying operation in Washington, D.C.
After that she did several covert jobs for Sammy who paid good money but not enough to provide a stable income. Although moderately attractive Danielle had struggled to form any firm relationships with the opposite sex due to a childhood of parental abuse. Not being romantically involved with anyone made her an ideal prospect for this type of operation.
Recently, Binks had met with her and offered her a job that would pay more than all the others put together. She had never in her wildest dreams thought she could command so much money and, given the present circumstances, her distrust of the military, combined with meager resources, she could not refuse. The sum of $250,000 would mean she could disappear and live in style for a while.
Her mission was to retrieve ce
rtain information that would be found in the office of the Chief of the Joint Chiefs at the Pentagon. All she had to do was break in and open a safe. Opening the safe door would be easy. Binks had supplied her with the combination. The organization he worked for obviously had deep pockets and long fingers, able to reach into the lives of even the most powerful of the country's leaders.
Sammy was after a memory stick that would be found in the safe. She did not ask what it contained—it really didn't matter to her.
The night was young and Danielle had ample time to perform the deed. Sammy had supplied a swipe-card key for gaining the necessary access to the section she needed to be in. It would not take long.
Gaining access to General Hollings' office was easier than she had anticipated. The night guards, sticking to a routine, were in the opposite wing and, after the first entrance there was only one more door to access, that of the General's office.
It took her a few moments to find the safe. On the top shelf was a file marked, 'TOP SECRET: IRIS SCANS' and on top of the file was a memory stick which she plugged into the USB port of a tablet she was carrying in her backpack. It took a minute to download the contents of the stick and she had completed the task assigned to her. All she had to do was get out safely without being caught.
Danielle Gruber had certainly done more difficult jobs than this in her short time since the army. She felt almost guilty about it being so easy but the thought of all that money to be handed over to her, as promised by Sammy Binks, was all the stimulation she needed to bring a smile to her lips. He had even given her an advanced payment of $25,000.
∞∞
The Helium-3 Conspiracy Page 3