The Planner

by Robert Smith

  “Right,” replied Planner with half a laugh, realising the remark was a joke, but it was not very funny considering the number of times covert aircraft projects had been deliberately linked by the CIA to aliens from outer space. “So in other words, leave it to Stage C operations.”

  “Indeed. I’m surprised, Robert, that I have to go over such matters with you.”

  “I beg your worshipful master’s pardon. In my previous operations I had full control of the means and investigative control.”

  “I do understand, Robert. However, our mission is clear. And we can manage the loose ends. We plan to manage those loose ends nicely… we’d all much prefer that way… but we can lose the kid-gloves, a much more unpleasant societal outcome. But it has to happen, otherwise a far more terrible future awaits America, you have to trust me on that. I presume you realise there are reasons why it has to happen this way and no other? Each objective for each mission leads to a higher-level goal set out by the COG. These goals can only be achieved using the plan enacted as it has been laid out.”

  “Yes, Most Worshipful Master. I… realise,” said Planner chagrined.

  “Good. You’ve been doing an excellent job especially the effort in keeping our narrative unsullied. We know it is unfair on the good and blameless Americans caught up in the maelstrom. That is unfortunate; the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. In any case, for every martyr we create, I believe we will be creating ten heroes; that is the nature of crisis. We can discuss this further in the face-to-face meeting next week in Washington; the End Stage Review.”

  “Indeed,” said Planner subdued.

  “Now I can announce the proposed date of the event, weather permitting, that is. Since all operations are now reporting green, we have brought the date forward, to the date originally proposed by PNAC last year…”

  Planner finished the sentence, “September the Eleventh!”

  * * * *

  Planner dreamed of a plane crashing into World Trade Center south tower; with plane parts raining down onto the streets below, aluminium foil fluttering down like a street parade; there was an open top presidential limousine driving down the road with crowds cheering. It was JFK! Planner woke up with a start.

  An hour and half later, at 8.35am, Planner was back in WTC7. Unlike the offices with vistas of New York, the area he found himself in what felt like a warehouse even though it was just a room in the interior of the building. It was located just above the floor that housed the Mayor’s Emergency Management Office — a specially constructed bunker designed, apparently without irony, to manage crisis events in New York.

  Planner was meeting a short and casually dressed man in his sixties with deeply tanned, crinkly skin, possessing a strong Irish accent. He greeted Planner and led him deeper into the room. “Pleased to meet you, Mr Planner, I’m sure. Call me Digger.”

  “Hi, thanks for calling,” Planner said. “I appreciate we haven’t much time.”

  “What would you like to see?” said Digger waving his arm at the surrounding shelves, which went from floor to ceiling, each loaded with small oblong boxes.

  “Not too sure,” said Planner. “Perhaps you could tell me about those color-coded packets?”

  “They’re the detonators. We need to label each one and then send them to our subcontractor to load the appropriate payload and then place them in the towers.”

  “There must be thousands,” observed Planner.

  “There probably about a thousand. Let me show how it’ll be done. It’s all in the planning for big jobs like this. And for that you’ll need a computer.” Digger walked to a bank of computer terminals.

  “This is our 3D model of the world trade centre complex,” he said pointing to a workstation displaying a 3D wireframe model.

  “Nastran software90. Know it well,” said Planner.

  “You do? That’s splendid. It’s been the devil’s own job to get it work,” confessed Digger.

  “It’s quirky,” said Planner. “But pretty good Finite Element Analysis. I’ve used it for aircraft structure stress analysis but not for buildings.”

  Planner bent down to look more closely at the screen. It showed the framework of an otherwise transparent twin tower 3D model.

  “Well, you and me both,” said Digger. “I used to do planning for these sort of things on the back of an envelope. This is new fangled to me. Perhaps you can give us some tips then?”

  “Sure, no problem. I’ll give it a review. So what have you modelled?”

  “We had a contractor to build the model. I can run it though and show a simulation of what we expect. Let’s start with the buildings: bomb-proof91, hurricane proof, earthquake-proof92. And yet we have to knock these buildings down and make it look natural. So Stage 1,” said Digger, pressing a button, showed an aircraft entering the twin towers, similar to the presentation Planner had seen the previous day. “The aircraft damages the exterior columns and a few interior columns. There’ll be a fireball. So Stage 2 will be fires. We can control the extent of the fires by, oh, you’ll like this, by the extent of the fire-proofing that has been applied to the WTC in recent years. For the North Tower, it is nicely bunched together, the South tower, hmm, not so much! But as you know, the fire won’t damage the steel core but we have to start the deformation, cutting the outer walls from the floors and so forth. So finally, we need, Stage 3, progressive weakening with explosives, to bring the buildings down.”

  “Wireless detonation93?” asked Planner.

  “Wireless throughout and fibre optic cabling where we can, for redundancy. Belt and braces. It’s kind of expensive,” joked Digger.

  “I hope you don’t get a wrong number to any of the cell phones,” mused Planner.

  “We have a way around that. It’s quite secure. The red blobs, here,” he said, pointing to the computer screen, “indicate the locations of the explosive charges; actually, sol-gel94 nanothermite charges, they’re new; which we release progressively to mimic a collapse process. First we weaken internally…” The computer screen showed animated explosions around the floors attached to tower core columns. “This is the stage 2, removing the lateral strength of the building but that won’t bring it down. We’re just cutting the outer edge sections. We have to cut and not explode this bit to keep the process hidden.” The computer showed cutting around the tower external columns. “Then soon after that, we blow the main columns from the impact point downwards to mimic a pile driver collapse.” The computer showed the blowing out the main internal columns and the 3D graphic structure tumbling down.

  “That looks very convincing. What’s the time difference between the wall cutting and the column cutting?” asked Planner.

  “Not long, we have to watch carefully and make sure the building does not start to warp. As soon as it loses shape, we lose control,” said Digger.

  “Right. That’s great. But there’s a lot of new technology in there. Will it work?” said Planner.

  Digger smiled. “We’ve tried it all out separately and together. It’ll work. The main problem we have… is the minimum amount of explosive to do the job. We have too much at the moment; the explosions could send debris over to New Jersey! But, of course too little explosives and the building may not come down at all.”

  * * * *

  Sometime later in his hotel room, Planner sat tinkering with the Nastran software on his laptop computer. He took a bite of a sandwich while running the simulation again. He had reduced the amount of explosives and only half of the building fell according to the simulation. Planner pulled an unhappy face.

  Chapter Ten: Snow White

  A few days later, Turq entered Planner’s office, carrying, very gingerly in front of her, a brief case. Planner looked up from his charts.

  “Fort Detrick have delivered,” she said.

  “In there?” Planner said incredulous.

  “Yes. It’s safe,” said Turq unconvincingly as she held the case away from her body. “A dozen doses ranging from inert
, two types of non-lethal and then… er… upwards. I’ve been given instructions. Verbally.”

  “Wow”

  “So shall I pass them over to the Eagle Team? I don’t want this hanging around,” said Turq.

  Planner said, “Sure. But er… wait. Can you open it up?”

  Turq set it down on the desk and delicately opened case. It had two combination locks. Inside the brief case were ten vials strapped to the case interior, each containing a gray powder. Each vial had a sticker with a hand written number.

  “Which are the non-lethal?” asked Planner.

  “The ones marked zero.”

  “And there’s a minus one?”

  “That’s inert,” said Turq. “Completely safe.”

  “And the others are four, five and six?”

  “That’s the expected body count,” sighed Turq.

  Planner took a vial marked zero. “I have a favour to ask. Can you sprinkle some of the non-lethal material in the hijackers accommodation? To provide an evidence trail?95”

  Turq at first did not accept the vial, “They’re in Florida,” she said.

  “Right,” smiled Planner, still holding the vial outstretched.

  Turq reluctantly took the vial, “I’ll need an excuse to go.”

  Planner suggested, “To introduce the extra hijackers maybe?”

  “More figments of our fevered imagination,” sighed Turq.

  “Right. In the meantime, I’ll take this to Eagle. I presume I don’t have to sign for it,” said Planner.

  “No,” said Turq dismissively. “Which reminds me… what do you want done with that non-disclosure form from Fort Detrick?”

  Planner gave a half a smile, “Shred it!”

  * * * *

  As Planner walked from his office, Bates broke-off a conversation with another Rainbow Team member and ran to catch up with Planner.

  “Turq says this is it,” said Bates, indicating the brief case, walking along side.

  “Yes,” said Planner.

  “Where are you storing it?” asked Bates.

  “Taking it to Eagle.”

  “There’s something you should know first,” said Bates.

  Planner stopped and turned towards Bates, “Oh?”

  “One of the Eagle team died last night,” said Bates

  “One of the guys we met? Which one?”

  “Yes, Brown. The complainer. Poor attitude,” Bates explained.

  “How?” asked Planner.

  “Lost control of his car going downhill. Just a few miles from his home,” said Bates.

  “Uh… Uh,” Planner was unable to speak.

  “Tough huh?” said Bates. “Well, I guess, after Princess Diana, brake failure is the new black.96”

  “Uh… Uh,” Planner was still unable to speak as he made a connection and started to consider his wife’s death not as an accident but as an assassination.

  “Are you ok?” said Bates worried.

  Planner offered the brief case to Bates, “Can you take this?”

  “To Eagle? Sure. Are you ok? Can I get you something?”

  “Er… no. Can you…?”

  “Sure. I’ll be right back.” Bates took the case and hurried off.

  Planner returned to his office and sunk down; head in his hands. Planner considered a murderous sequence of events surrounding the deaths of his wife and daughter; they drove down a sloping road; spied by an assassin, who takes over the steering by remote control; driving the car through a weaken barrier. Planner remembered the plans for such a devices in CIA archives; how, under radio command, it would activate by an explosive bolt to turn the wheel sharply and then lock the steering; made from plastic and designed to melt within its own self created fire, it would be undetectable to investigators; the perfect murder weapon. He visualised his wife struggling with the steering wheel and his daughter crying out, as it tumbled off the road; He visualised the car bursting into flames. Why would she be murdered? Was he the target? Was he being paranoid?

  Bates returned promptly and touched Planner on the shoulder. Planner looked up surprised, having not heard him approach.

  “All done,” said Bates.

  “Thanks,” said Planner with effort.

  “I told them to store it. We’d give them instructions on how to use the material later.”

  “Good,” said Planner looking down again.

  Bates said, “Are you ok? You look as though you had a bit of a turn?”

  “Probably all the hotel food… mixed with the news you gave me. Seems to have upset my stomach.”

  “Stomach? Right,” said Bates sarcastically. “That’s what it looked like.” Then Bates considered another thought, “Those vials were all sealed, weren’t they?”

  “It’s not the anthrax,” said Planner, looking up.

  “I think we should get you tested,” said Bates.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Well if you’re sure you’re sure, Ok. So are you ready for Snow White?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, seriously. Can you give me a minute and then we’ll be off,” said Planner, regaining his composure as Bates looked on with concern.

  * * * *

  Operation Snow White had the best offices of any of the operations. It looked more like a hotel lobby than an office. The North Tower of the World Trade Center dominated the view from the window.

  Mr Snow looked like an aging diplomat, suited, slim with white hair. Snow was accompanied by Digger who looked out of place with the fine, white leather upholstered seating. Snow showed Planner and Bates to two such comfortable chairs. There was a map of the USA on the wall and a pile of Disneyesque cartoon characters in a pile on a low table.

  “Yes, I’m Snow White,” he said smoothly. “But I don’t hang out in the woods and talk to birds.”

  “Do you have to watch out in the Big Apple though?” joked Bates.

  “Ha! Ha!” he laughed unconvincingly. “Only for the poisonous bits; I try avoid such places. Oh, and this is my operations man, Digger.”

  Planner shook his hand “We’ve met. Have you been able to check out my suggestions on the Nastran model?”

  “Indeed. Very useful, Mr Planner,” Digger said enthusiastically, as only an Irishman can. “We’ve been able to reduce the amount of explosive. Very useful.”

  “And this is my Number One, Bates.”

  “Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.”

  Bates shook his hand, “Likewise.”

  Reaching into his brief case, Planner said, “I realise we haven’t much time, but before we get into details, I was just wondering whether you can outline your operational adjectives, since it seems to be the one mission where there is no written details.” Planner presented the blank page headed “Snow White” from his briefing pack.

  “Yes, this operation is very sensitive,” said Snow. “It’s to do with The Names. Their stories, their locations.”

  “Names?” asked Planner.

  “Publically recognisable figures. They must never be linked with any aspect of the operation. So, of course, nothing in writing.”

  “Secondly,” Digger added. “Snow White is about the destruction of all other information concerning the Big Event. Of all the operations, plans, data and other potential embarrassments. Leaving it snow-white, so-to-speak.”

  “Quite a few precautions required there, I think,” said Planner.

  “No. Not at all. It’s really quite simple,” said Digger.

  “Really?” said Planner with furrowed brow. “Shredding and burning used to be the main options for destruction of paper records, but now with computers, data back-ups…”

  Digger held out his hand. “Can I stop you there, Mr Planner? No, we’re proposing something much quicker, with much less paperwork.”

  “Oh?”

  “All the plans are here in WTC7, right?”

  Planner nodded.

  “So we just delete this building.”

&nb
sp; “You’re going to blow up it?”

  “Yes, we’re going to blow up the building. This building,” confirmed Digger, “Come the big event, it’ll come down along side the North Tower,” he said and pointing to the tower outside. “No-one will even notice it go down in the dust cloud. And along with it, all the paperwork and computers. Well, at least, all the data for Stages A and B.”

  “Wow. That’s a surprise. Hmm. I think I understand the reason for the Las Vegas plan better now… And also the centralization of the planning into WTC7,” mused Planner. Then, with realisation, he said, “But what about the other tenants of the building? The mayor’s emergency office, for instance.”

  “Yes. It’ll go too,” said Digger. “It won’t be used on the day obviously. Shame. Nice lot of computers and communications in there. But we’re able to re-use some of them to control the demolition.”

  “I guess I thought that would be our control room,” said Planner.

  Snow interrupted, “We have another planned.”

  Planner looked at Bates. Bates smiled back broadly as-if he knew the plan.

  “And the Securities and Exchange Commission?” asked Planner as another thought brought forth an epiphany.

  “Yes, that too. In fact, that’s one of our primary targets within the building.”

  “Enron…” said Planner involuntarily.

  “You’ve heard about that too, eh? Yes, causing a few red faces with some Texan politicians, I hear. They want that tidied up,” said Digger cheerfully.

  Planner fell silent.

  “So is that the few billion I heard Snow White was about?” said Bates.

  “That figure is probably deferred costs. It’s worth a lot of money to particular people. You know… not getting locked up,” smiled Digger.

  “So what are the operations surrounding The Names?” asked Bates.

  Snow walked over to the map. “These are to do with the first family and politicians. The seven dwarfs we’ve called them internally; inevitably, considering the code-name. We’ve run various scenarios and this is how we see it so far. Pardon me, if you find the associations seem less than diplomatic.” Snow picked up a pile of cartoon pictures and showed a picture of Dopey. “Firstly, the President. Obviously the President needs plausible deniability so has been kept away from detailed planning. He may look a bit incompetent hence the Dopey character. However we are sure this will only be transitory.”