by Robert Smith
“I’m sure it’s very compelling. Depressing, but compelling,” sighed Planner.
“So, the problem of contrary witnesses is a easily overcome. Any lingering doubts or suspicions, will be quickly silenced by our Psyop personnel and the overwhelming pressure of the TV footage. Most will develop false-memory syndrome and believe that they witnessed the planes themselves. They’ll tell their friends they were there and saw the aircraft!”
“Just like War of Worlds,” injected Bates. “Orson Wells’ radio broadcast. People believed they actually saw Martians!”
There was a mild chuckle in the air while Planner was springing his fingers together deep in thought.
“Now you do have second order problems,” continued Psyop-7. “Will the video be good enough? It needs to be perfect. What you’ve seen here are just the draft animations. Except for the live feeds we have several hours if not a day to splice together real footage of the explosions and the animated aircraft.”
As Planner formulated his response, one of the Generals stated in a gruff tone, “The animated aircraft will be 100 % on target, that much we know. But will the drones be 100 %? Could they miss the target? We’re aiming for specific parts of the building, it could interfere with the demolitions.”
“Or lose the whole justification of the collapse?” suggested another General. “Or suppose one of the drones just clipped the edge the tower and spun into the Plaza, in front of TV cameras, to reveal a bunch of empty seats?”
The Senator tilted his head. “Indeed any such mistake, a botched crash, would be far worse than anything that a bunch of witnesses could say. No crash, no debris, and so perhaps… less loose ends? As you’ve said yourself, Planner, we need to be as tight as possible.”
Planner paused as he considered his response.
“This is all very interesting,” said Planner. “There are a few things that I’d like to go through in slower time. Certainly, Flight 11, the first crash, perhaps we don’t need the 767; use a cruise missile. Then rely on explosives and psychological means, as Pysop-7 has just outlined. As for the other three aircraft, I defer to my staff that have advised me of the current plan. It is not a good idea to change plans without analysing more fully and comparing the risks. This idea also requires a great deal more complicity with the TV channels than I had previously assumed and I have not investigated those relationships.”
After a moment’s silence, the Senator concluded, “I do so agree, Planner,” he said condescendingly. “Yes, continue with your primary plan. We will talk later about this after you’ve completed your exercises.”
* * * *
The Lodge Master, aka the Senator, unlike the rest of the review panel, shook Planner’s hand, using their secret Masonic handshake, as he left the room. Planner noted the Senator’s Quill and Dagger motif on his tie and was dismayed of his display of Lodge’s secret symbol.
“We’ll talk at the regular time,” said the old man cheerfully.
Planner smiled back uncertainly.
The Senator shook Bates’ hand, “Bates.”
“Senator,” smiled Bates gleefully.
Planner packed up his laptop and exited with Bates, “I need a walk,” said Planner.
“Not lunch?” said Bates. It was early afternoon.
“Ok. Lunch.”
* * * *
“Ok,” said Planner, sitting in the Pentagon canteen. “I think we’ve met the Psychologist.”
“I don’t like the way we’ve been kept away from the contingency plans,” said Bates.
“My thoughts exactly,” sighed Planner. “My assumption about Air Crash Investigations; It has driven my thinking, and I hadn’t even appreciated that. If there was no follow-up, no investigation, then we can do pretty much whatever we want. But how do we stop the NTSB? The Senator seemed confident that it could be blocked.”
“Make it an FBI investigation. I’m sure I’ve seen that used before?” suggested Bates with a shrug.
Planner looked puzzled, “Bates, I’m an expert in this field and no it has never been done before.” Planner bit into his cheeseburger.
“JFK Jr. It was done for him.112”
Planner stopped chewing for a second, “No, there was still an NTSB investigation for that plane crash.”
“Well,” said Bates dismissively, “This isn’t so different to the DNA testing situation. We gain control of the aftermath and then manage the release of information.”
Planner, his ears glowing red, could not meet Bates’ eyes. Instead, he looked at posters on the far wall. One of the posters read, “Information Security is Your Responsibility.” Planner could just able read the line below; “Computer Attacks at Department of Defense Pose Increasing Risks: 250,000 attacks in 1999.”
* * * *
Planner took a walk by himself. When he was sure he was by himself, he made a phone call on his cell phone.
“Hi Digger, it’s Planner.”
“Hello there,” he replied.
“Did you get my email?” asked Planner.
“Yes, I got one of my boys to check and you’re right, we used the original plans not the updated so yes, we could do with some help there, with the model. The contractor we used for the sighting of the er… payload… is now abroad and off-contract.”
“Ok. No, problem. One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Has there been an allowance for er… impact holes?”
“The Cookie Cutter holes?” joked Digger.
“Yes,” said Planner.
“Oh yes, there’s a whole special effects department working on that.”
“And that doesn’t interfere with the er… main payload?” said Planner being careful not to describe too much over the phone lines. Planner knew that even cell phone calls could be tapped.
“No, the main payloads are above and below. The impact levels just have special effects, wall removal, pyrotechnics and debris cannons to simulate travel from entrance to exit. It’ll be shock and awe.”
“Of course. So all in place?”
“Yes and it is all independent of the payload we’re interested in. It’s triggered by a separate ground team. Not our problem. Well, my problem anyway.”
“What about Building 6?” asked Planner.
“The ground team are dealing with that. All the other buildings will have incendiaries,” said Digger cheerfully.
“Er… right. Thanks. I’ll email you later.”
* * * *
Planner, back at home, tinkered with the Nastran software on his laptop computer in his study.
He was taking Katherine’s suggestion of doing his job badly one step further, he was making tweaks of his own finesse just a small part of the plan. Planner opened a spreadsheet list, marked “north tower”. This spreadsheet contained the external label references of all detonators for the WTC1 building and the wireless detonation cell phone numbers and associated security codes. Planner selected and cut the row marked “Floor 7 Core”. He then opened a spreadsheet list, marked “WTC7”. This spreadsheet contained the external label references of all detonators for the WTC7 building. He then pasted the WTC1 row into sheet. The external references were recorded on the sheet in the format “WTC1-7-7”. Planner selected the external reference field and changed it to “WTC7-7-7”. He was subtlety making his own “magic bullet”.
To load the magic bullet into the weapon, he needed to write an email. It read:
“Digger,
I’ve added a few more tweaks. I’ve reduced the number of payloads for WTC1 and WTC2 as already discussed. But increased it for WTC7 to account for the extra reinforcement within the building.
Please find the new models, simulations and label sheets for the detonators attached.
Please let me know if you are going to make any changes.
Regards
Planner”
He pressed a button first to encrypt the message and attachments and then, after a pause, pressed another to send.
Chapter T
hirteen: Oklahoma
Planner and Bates exited with large bags from their Chevrolet Suburban limo on the runway of Tinker Air Force base. Early morning and high cloud allowed the temperature to be comfortable, hardly any warmer than their air-conditioned SUV limo. Flat in all directions with the smoky mountains in the distance, the most dominant item in their immediate landscape was the rear view of a four-engined, jumbo jet. The jet looked just like a Boeing 747, the big hump at the front was the characteristic feature of the 747 air frame. That hump was a second story to the plane occupied by the flight crew and, if it were a civilian aircraft, the first class passengers. The plane was all white except for a blue stripe down the fuselage; there were no other markings.
Greeting them was Colonel Purple, easily identifiable by the uniform and purple colored badge on his chest covering the usual military name tag.
“Sir!” saluted Purple.
“Colonel,” greeted Planner warmly, shaking his hand.
Purple took one of their bags and lead them past an armed security guard standing on the runway, over to the jumbo jet.
“I hope you were not delayed too long at security,” said Purple.
“It took an hour. Full bag search,” stated Bates sardonically.
“That’s privileged treatment. Most people have it worse. The security is tight around here. It’s because of this plane. The E4-B National Emergency Airborne Command Post113, or as we call it, the Knee-Cap,” stated Purple proudly.
“I thought it was called the Doomsday Plane,” said Planner.
“Yes, in the newspapers,” said Purple. “Not a bad name for it, all things considered. It’s hardened against EMP, the electro-magnetic pulse that nuclear bombs emit. Most aircrafts’ electronics, come a nuclear war would be fried by EMP, by the Knee-Cap would still be flying.”
“Are we going straight onboard? I thought we’d be briefed beforehand,” said Planner.
“Straight onboard. No need to use any other facility. This aircraft has everything you’ll need. Plus it’s the most secure office conferencing facilities this side of the Cheyenne Mountains,” boasted Purple.
Purple led Planner and Bates up a rear set of stairs on the port side.
Once inside, Purple started a tour of the aircraft. “The mission crew use this rear door. There’s a forward door for V.I.Ps, but that’s rarely used, even by the Secretary of Defense.”
“How many people does it carry?” asked Bates.
“The E4-B can carry over one hundred crew members, although generally we fly with about 50. So this section is the galley; help-yourself-service mainly although there are stewards too. There’s bathrooms back there. Shower facilities, which are essential; Exercises can last a week with no touchdown. We run out of food after that!”
“A week!?” exclaimed Bates.
“In flight refuelled?” asked Planner.
“Naturally. It takes two KC-135 tankers to top up its tanks. And they’re needed every 12 hours,” said Purple, leading them through to corridor running the length of the starboard side. Purple lead Planner and Bates into the first large room, the Rest Area. Purple drops the bag he was carrying into a luggage rack and invited Planner and Bates to do the same. The room had about 40 seats arranged like an airliner on one side and bunks on the far side.
“This is the rest room. In-flight entertainment, just like an airliner. But over here, for a good night’s sleep, bunk beds!”
He then led them into the next room, small with sound-dampening insulation, where 8 people could sit in cramped conditions surrounded by electronics. A mid-twenties officer was sitting in one of the seats. He had a browny-yellow badge.
He stood to attention as they entered and salutes, “Sir!”
“This is Captain Ochre, in charge of communications,” said Purple returning the salute. “This is the Communication Room: telephony and radio. All channelled by satellite communication through the bump on the roof. Then it goes out to aircraft, ground, even to submarines. Not just voice but video and data. We collect data from AWACS, satellites, U2s, radar, well everywhere really. Even CNN.”
Bates and Planner shook Ochre’s hand.
Purple led Planner and Bates along the corridor into the next room, the Command Room. In the middle of the area, were six groups of desks for four people each with four computer screens. There were another 4 computer screens on the back wall, 28 positions in all. There were 3 uniformed men relaxing in the room, with Magenta, Orange and Blue tags. They stood and saluted. Purple saluted back without introducing them.
“This is the main command room, tactical display, computers… There’s an E4-B ready 24 hours a day, 365 days a year,” said Purple to Planner and Bates. “There’s four of them and usually permanently manned, just like a ship!”
“Why is it permanently manned?” asked Bates.
Purple said in hushed tones, “The computer systems are rated Top Secret, containing every military plan and option available. We need to stop any possibility of tampering. Basically they contain the DoD’s crown jewels. So there is always someone onboard except during major overhauls.”
Resuming his tour voice, Purple said, pointing at different work stations, “Flight monitoring, over here. Comms monitoring here. The drone team will be here. And the ground contact team over there. The area in the middle, this is where I expect you’ll be sitting during the Big Event.”
“Really?” Bates seemed surprised.
“Well, we’re planning on imitating four aircraft. We’re going to be busy,” said Planner.
“Can’t we do most of that from the ground?” said Bates.
Purple spoke paternally to Bates, “I don’t suppose you appreciate the number of plane spotters and amateur radio hams out there that would hone in on any fake transmissions emanating from a single spot. All our spoofing has to come from the air if you want any form of credibility.”
Bates pulled a face. Purple spun on his heels and left the room.
Planner said to Bates, “Welcome to Spoof-Central.”
* * * *
Purple led Planner and Bates into the E4-B’s empty Briefing Room.
Purple announced, “Large conference room and briefing room. You can squeeze forty people in here. You may need to, for this op.”
Through a door at the back, they entered the smaller conference room, which was only slightly smaller but designed for about 8 people in some comfort. On the walls, there are lockers containing equipment, mission plans, and a variety of other luxuries.
“This is the strategic conference room. This will be our office for most of this week. Forward of this is accommodation for Secretary of Defense, or the President, but the President generally prefers to fly on Air-Force-One. In any case, it’s off limits to us mere mortals. Above us, on the second floor, are the pilots, engineers and navigators. They actually have been sealed off. They won’t know a thing about the actual mission; they just fly the plane along a planned route. They have their own beds and canteen up there.”
“Below us,” Purple banged his feet, “are stores and the MJU-32 anti-aircraft missile defences. We don’t go down there either. That’s about it. Or rather, as much as I know.”
“Phew. I suspect this costs quite a few tax dollars,” observed Bates.
“$250 million. Plus running costs… about $80million a year. For each one,” said Purple.
“And Air Force One? That’s another aircraft type?” asked Bates.
“Oh yes. There are actually two Air Force Ones, Boeing 747-VC-25s114. The four E4-Bs look similar, 747 airframes, but they have different functions. Similar costs though,” said Purple.
“Thanks very much, Colonel,” said Planner. “That’s been most enlightening.”
Purple smiled and walked over to a locker and opened it via a combination lock, “Ok. That’s enough of the guided tour. Let’s look at the flight plans and perhaps this afternoon we can start the exercise?”
As he was laying out papers and maps from the locker, there was a kno
ck on the door.
Purple looked up and smiled, “Ah-ha. The other key member of the crew…”
The door opened and a fully uniformed, older officer walked in. Planner recognised his face, but out-of-context, he struggled to recall who he was.
But there was no such problem for Bates, “Colonel Nicholas!” he said enthusiastically.
“Hello, Rainbow Team,” Nicholas smiled. “You looked surprised.”
“I guess I am,” said Planner. “Pleasantly so!”
“Colonel Purple and myself arranged this some time ago. We knew this would be the best place to be, come the Big Event,” he said.
“Welcome back, Colonel. Glad you could make it,” beamed Purple.
* * * *
The four of them poured over the draft flight plans and timelines, finally agreeing the flight plans, of the E4-B, the airliners, the drones and chase planes.
The two Colonels took the pencil drawn plans back to the Command Room for the draft flight plans to be entered into the computer. That way they could run a variety of simulations to check the reactions of USAF and capacities at key airfields.
Soon after that the remainder of the Rainbow Team with the notable exception of Turq, entered the E4-B. There was a mix of some 30 people: 20 male, 10 female, some military, some casually dressed, a couple in suits. As they entered the Rest Room, they were handed a thick document from Captain Ochre. The team dispersed around the aircraft reading the material, making notes and highlighting sections.
Colonel Purple gave a briefing to the team in the Briefing Room, covering basic etiquette on the E-4B and the objectives of their first flight.
All the team had been trained individually on each of the computer systems and communication headsets. All the team, that is, except Bates and Planner, this was their time to learn. For the rest of the team the mission was basic familiarity and to come together as a team; to “gel”.
* * * *