The Planner

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The Planner Page 5

by Robert Smith


  “There’s a whistleblower. She’s one brave lady. She’s been feeding information to the S.E.C,” said Katherine.

  “S.E.C?”

  “Security and Exchange Commission. Fraud investigators.”

  “Oh right,” Planner belated realised he should have known this, “So how did you find out?” he asked.

  “Wall Street is a small place; word gets around,” smiled Katherine.

  “So the SEC is onto this then it’s sorted, right? Why is this your problem?”

  “We have a ton of shares in this company and we want to dump them and advise our clients to do the same. But! We have been asked not to upset the legal case. If we sell the whole lot, we have to explain why and the whole house of cards will collapse. All those whistleblowers and sources would never work again, the whole legal case goes down the pan, and so the jerks would get off scot-free.”

  “So sell slowly?”

  “We are. But since the shares are still going up and up, we have other people asking why we aren’t maximising our portfolio. But, yeah, we are dumping the stock.”

  “Can you say which company this is?”

  “We’re pretty certain the end is nigh, except for this worrying incompetence at the SEC, so ok… You might not have heard of them. They’re the energy trading company that has California by the throat. They call themselves ENRON.”

  Chapter Four: GI Joe

  Planner enjoyed Katherine’s company on the flight and it looked like the feeling was mutual. Katherine just had a carry-on bag, and huge handbag and needed to rush to her appointments in the city, while Planner had checked-in a bag and needed to retrieve it.

  Katherine offered her hand, “Ok. Well, it’s been really good to chat with you, Robert.”

  Planner shook her hand, “Good luck catching those jerks.”

  “Thanks. You’ll see it in the news.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  A loud airport announcement about delays in luggage handling stifled further conversation. Katherine hung back as if she wanted to say more but Planner was looking for the baggage carousel. He caught hold of a memory, of being greeted by his wife and daughter at the airport. That was a year ago.

  He looked around and realised Katherine was walking away. His brain finally processed that she had said “bye”. Planner sighed, he had not replied. He could have asked her for her number. She seemed nice. Perhaps he had too much baggage for a relationship at that moment. He looked at the luggage carousel and smiled at the irony.

  Through the window, towards Manhattan, he could see the misty outline of iconic New York skyline. A skyline dominated by two oblong blocks; the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center.

  Planner was dropped off by the cab in Liberty Street, close to the South Tower of the World Trade Center. That meant he had to walk across the WTC Plaza, strongly shadowed by the 1360-foot twin towers, passed another building in the complex, the eight-story WTC6, to reach the Salomon Brothers Building, a bronzy-brown building, less than half the height of the twin towers. The sign on the building read “WTC7 Salomon Brothers”. Most people referred to the building as WTC7.

  Planner took the lift to the 25th floor of WTC7 and entered the office marked “Department of Defense”. Once through the security of that office, there was a second locked door, unmarked, and Planner gained entry via a swipe card to get to the entrance lobby of the CIA offices. Following that were “security tubes”. All staff and visitors had to type a code, whereupon the front of the tube opened, entered into the tube and waited a few seconds, the tube door would then open on the other side to allow entrance (or exit) to the office. It seemed vaguely reminiscent of opening sequence of the 1960s “Get Smart” comedy-show to enter the CIA offices and while inside the tube, Planner hummed the theme tune as he waited for the plexi-glass door to open. From the CIA lobby, there were private stairways to other floors but no lifts, much to the annoyance of some of the more senior staff. This New York office was CIA’s largest office away from CIA HQ in Langley.

  Bates looked up from his desk as Planner entered and immediately guided him into an empty side-office. Planner felt the laser stare from Turquoise sitting some distance away, looking grim and furiously pounding on a computer keyboard.

  “Quick update,” said Bates in a professional tone. “I’ve told Turq about the four aircraft. Since we’ve max-ed out the witness protection programme, the story will just have to run with four lightly loaded aircraft.32 We’ve had some more volunteers from our staff to fill some spaces on the planes. But we’ve had real problems finding the extra flight crew.”

  “Yes, that sort of figures,” said Planner, taking some water from a water cooler and sitting down. “And extra hijackers?”

  “Well, there’s been some sense of humor failures over the estimated, ten extra hijackers,” said Bates condescendingly. “But we’ve talked it through; and the recommendation is that we’ll just steal some identities.”

  “So just mystery men?” pondered Planner. “It does water down the back-story.”

  “Yes, it does,” admitted Bates.

  Planner ground his teeth, “But it can’t be any worse than the trail we’ve already left to our door. Get the names and we’ll develop some connections.”

  Bates sighed and sat on the edge of the desk. “Well,” he said, “the real problem appears to be that Turquoise doesn’t feel any of the current rainbow actors are credible either. Not as devoted Muslims prepared for suicide attacks33, or as pilots of civil airliners. Hani Hajour, for example, the guy who was refused instruction the other day, is supposed to be performing the manoeuvre we saw at Travis Air Base.”34

  Planner sipped his water. He looked at his watch, grunted and then looked back at Bates, “Remind me to go over every single back story and operations phase C. We have to have a tight control on the legends. And control the news stories. We have time to develop this and manage the news later.”

  “Ok,” said Bates.

  “So what’s next?”

  “The Next Stop?” recalled Bates. “That’ll be Operation GI Joe. It’s in this building, Department of Defense. You’ve probably walked past their office to get here.”

  “Ok,” said Planner. “Let’s Roll!”

  * * * *

  The officer introduced as Joe, was in mid-thirties, military hair cut, but wearing an ill-fitting, off-the-peg, gray suit. The suit fitted poorly because his bulging muscle physique, as expected from someone that trained for special operations all his working life. Around his thick neck, he had many different access passes attached to his lanyard. He stood at a white board where he had drawn a rough plan of Pentagon. Bates and Planner were in chairs facing him.

  “So as you know,” Joe boomed, in a formal military style. “The primary objective of Operation GI-Joe is the destruction of the DoD’s Financial Audit operations, including those being conducted by the Office of Naval Intelligence and Army. This is mandated by the COG and is required to cover the tracks of all other operations.35”

  “So all the budgets for BE2 are being funnelled through the DoD36?” asked Planner.

  “Yes, Sir. We’re all using DoD budgets,” Joe replied crisply. He pointed to the Pentagon plan, “The secondary objective is the destruction of the Naval Command Center. This is to inhibit the use of Navy aircraft in any air defence.”

  Planner exchanged glances with Bates with a nod.

  Joe continued, “The Army Audit department37, ONI, Naval Command Center38 and computers are currently being re-housed in the refurbished wedge of the Pentagon currently being undertaken by AMEC. Here. Wedge one.”

  “How many other departments will be there?” asked Planner.

  “This part of the building is mainly empty. I believe the list of new occupants are mainly Navy Departments. Remaining departments of the ONI, for example, will be likely to move in over the summer.”

  “Unfortunate,” mused Planner. “Any chance of slowing down the move? Delay the internal decoration, for example?


  “We have that under consideration, Sir,” Joe reported. “However, since the targets are computer systems, with advanced warning, we will be able to evacuate and have very few casualties.”

  Planner nodded his approval.

  Joe switched over to a powerpoint slide which listed the operational options. Joe continued his report, “Currently we have two main options for taking this area out: (a) drone airliner aircraft crash or (b) manual airliner aircraft fly-over. For either option, we ensure target destruction with either a missile or a bomb… or both. Ok, technically, six options. And there are sub-options for option (a), we can either have an actual 757 drone or smaller craft such as Global Hawk, with a suitable paint job.”

  “Supported by witness testimony?” asked Planner.

  “Right. Covering all possibilities. We can pick and choose the witness testimony to suit.”

  “And we’re able to plant bombs inside the Pentagon?” asked Planner.

  “Yes. AMEC is the contractor on site at the moment, renovating the building at the point of impact39.”

  “And any fly-over aircraft would land immediately?” asked Planner.

  Joe returned to the map and points to the runway behind the Pentagon in-line with the attack route. “Yes, there’s a little-used runway at Reagan Airport just behind the Pentagon where the aircraft would land.”

  “What sort of evacuation warning time do we need?” asked Planner.

  “Probably about ten minutes. That’s a reasonable time for a building evacuation.”

  “So what’s you’re preferred option?” Bates asked Planner.

  “I’m undecided at the moment,” said Planner. “We will need precision explosives inside the building to ensure the destruction of the computers and the data. But what about data back-ups? All the financial data would be archived and backed-up and held elsewhere, right? Do you know where the back-up tapes are stored?”

  “For the DoD Financial Audit?” Joe said and finally started smiling. “You’ll like this: the data back-ups are stored in the World Trade Center.40”

  “Oh perfect,” said Bates.

  * * * *

  Returning back to the CIA Offices, the device controlling the lock into the CIA Offices failed to accept either Planner’s or Bates’ swipe card. They could hear the sound of drills and saws.

  “Building work,” sighed Bates.

  “Apparently”, agreed Planner.

  “So what did you think of GI Joe?” mused Bates.

  “I think he needed a scar across his face to really look the part,” joked Planner.

  “I hadn’t registered that until you mentioned it,” laughed Bates vigorously.

  Planner walked to a water cooler close by, and drank more water. “We’re back on track, now, I feel,” he said when he returned. “If you are up to it, can you clear up the Phase C for GI Joe? We didn’t really cover that. I’m thinking about CCTV coverage and witnesses: Less is more for this target, I think.”

  “OK, got it,” said Bates, still chuckling from Planner’s joke.

  “Blame it on security.” Looking at his watch, Planner said, “And can you check with Nicholas about the Naval Command Center? OK, I’m going to check into the hotel and take some aspirin.”

  “Sure. Headache?”

  “This whole thing is a headache. But yes, I think this is wearing me down. I need a whisky and a movie.”

  “That’s a good idea. Have you seen Gladiator yet?”

  “I heard that was good.”

  Bates mimicked Russell Crowe, “On my command, unleash hell!”

  “Funny,” said Planner, not amused. “When you get inside, can you send my luggage over?”

  Chapter Five: Eagle

  Feeling refreshed, the next morning Planner was in the hotel breakfast room, reading about the latest analysis on the US-China incident in the newspaper, when a familiar businesswoman popped into view at a 45 degree angle.

  “Smithy!?”

  Planner lowered his newspaper. “Why”, Planner spluttered, “Ms Smith!”

  Katherine pulled a face in response and silently mouthed her name with a nod.

  “It’s good to see you. What a surprise. What are you doing here?” enthused Planner.

  “I stay here three nights a week,” said Katherine with a smile. “My office is just there.” She points out to the World Trade Centre Plaza.

  Planner cannot conceal his shock. “You work there! In the towers?”

  “Ninety Fifth floor. North tower,” she said hunching her shoulders. “Good job I’ve a head for heights as well as figures. So what brings you here?”

  “Well, I’m in WTC7,” said Planner biting his lip.

  “Hey,” said Katherine, in surprise. “That’s where the Security and Exchange Commission is?!”

  “I know that now. I didn’t know that yesterday,” laughed Planner.

  They both chuckled.

  “You never see what’s staring you straight in the face!” observed Katherine

  “Too true,” agreed Planner. Quickly looking around, Planner asked, “So have you had breakfast? Do you want to join me?”

  “Well…” smiled Katherine, a fake smile, crinkling her nose.

  “You have to go?” Planner said.

  “I’m actually running late. I’ve got an early morning meeting. About you-know-what,” Katherine said merrily but taking a step backwards.

  “The Jerks?” asked Planner standing up.

  “Right. They have playing musical chairs at the top of the organization. We’re trying to work out what they are doing. So… sorry, um. Nice to see you again. Perhaps another time?”

  “Well… are you around… like this evening? For drinks, perhaps?”

  “Maybe tricky. Blame the Jerks and the games people play. But here’s my card. As long as my cell phone battery isn’t flat, I’ll take your call. Or if you have a card then I’ll call you?”

  Planner made a poor impression of searching his suit for a business card, “I don’t seem to have any cards on me at the moment. I’ll call at seven”.

  Katherine wobbled her hand uncertainly and she walked away backwards.

  “Ok. Every half hour after seven,” suggested Planner.

  Katherine waved, turned and hurried away.

  * * * *

  Planner walked across the windy World Trade Center Plaza towards the shimmering skyscraper at the north end, WTC7. While it would have been the tallest building in most cities, the tallest building in 30 US states, in New York it was only the 28th tallest and standing next to the Twin Towers, was positively dwarfed by its huge neighbours. With its glossy, brown facade WTC looked business-like but completely unobtrusive. Planner noticed, probably for the first time, a list of organisations within the building on an unobtrusive board. It announced that the “Security Exchange Commission” was located there. Of course, the Department of Defense and CIA were not mentioned. Planner wondered how often Katherine had meetings inside WTC7.

  Once inside the building, to reach his office, Planner needed to navigate an escalator, elevator, stairs, the security tube and also multiple swipe-card controlled doors. He unloaded his hefty laptop computer, hooked it up and was soon lost in the in-tray of work provided by email; Even covert operations have plenty of paperwork.

  Bates knocked on the door. “We have ten minutes before the meeting with Operation Eagle. They’re just down the corridor,” said Bates. And then as an afterthought added, “They’ve moved from Washington last week. They are not happy.”

  “So obviously not military?” said Planner amused.

  “No. Lawyers. Legal Eagles,” he said with a nod.

  Planner groaned at another awful code name. Planner saved the file and pressed the CTRL-ALT-DELETE keys, the three fingered salute to secure the computer from casual prying eyes.

  “I was thinking, Bates,” said Planner while he secured the documents on his desk, “Can you get me some business cards?”

  “Sure. I’ll get Turq onto it
,” said Bates.

  “Spare Turq, I’m sure someone more junior can do it,” said Planner mindful of the stress he had already caused her. “I need them to give out to Muggles.”

  “I thought we weren’t supposed to mix with the non-magical?” said Bates with amusement. “So what title do you want? Chief Wizard, perhaps?”

  “Cute. Chief… Planner,” Planner said as they walked out the office. “For an aerospace company. Make it TSAC. I know some people there that might be useful. The name should read Robert Smith.”

  “Smith. Original. Ok,” said Bates sarcastically.

  “I like to keep it simple,” said Planner.

  As they walked down the corridor, Planner said, “Perhaps I should have a color name. Everyone here has a color code name except you and me.”

  “We were running short of snappy code names so I volunteered an alternative. Bates is a nickname I had when I was young, so I’m comfortable with it. I didn’t want Puce. I toyed with Wheat, which were a couple of the rejects. You could have a color code name if you want,” said Bates, as they stood outside a featureless door.

  “I wonder which ones have already been used?” asked Planner.

  That’s easy!” Bates recalled from memory, very fast, “Amber, Auburn, Beige, Blue, Burgundy, Charcoal, Chestnut, Copper, Crimson, Cyan, Green, Indigo, Ivory, Lavender, Lemon, Lilac, Lime, Magenta, Mahogany, Maroon, Mint, Ochre, Olive, Orange, Pearl, Pink, Purple, Ruby, Scarlet, Sienna, Silver, Tangerine, Taupe, Teal, Turquoise, of course, Vanilla, Vermilion, Violet and Yellow. Black, Brown, Gold and Gray were already used in Operation Eagle. They started before us. Hey, we don’t have a White. How about that?”

  “That was some magic! You have some sort of photographic memory going on there?”

  “Eidetic, yes,” said Bates. “It saves on the note taking. It’s liked by the agency, of course; I get some plum jobs because of it.”

 

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