The Zero Option

by David Rollins

  ‘I was going to mention it,’ said Ben. ‘I was also going to bring up the fact that an RC-135 rendezvoused with KAL 007 on the edge of the Soviet buffer zone and flew so close to the airliner that the radar returns of both planes merged, confusing the Russian air defense network.’

  ‘That’s a theory, not a fact.’

  ‘You want to explain a maneuver called “ghosting” to me?’

  ‘As you know what it’s called, I think you also know what it is.’

  ‘The Soviets shot down the 747 because they thought it was the RC—your RC. You and Curtis Foxx fingered the Korean airliner for the Russians, didn’t you?’

  Ben took the Otter into a steep turn, carving a tight 90-degree arc over the line that separated the shelf from the deep ocean. Tex was looking out the window at the Gulf below.

  ‘That photo of Curtis, you and the others,’ said Ben. ‘Curtis left it to me. You’re the last man standing. I think he wanted me to contact you about 007.’

  ‘And I’ve already told you that I won’t comment on the specifics of any mission I may or may not have been involved in.’

  ‘Spoken like a true politician.’

  ‘Spoken like a guy who doesn’t want to end up in prison for the rest of his life. That’s the score when you sign a secrecy agreement.’

  ‘No debris and no bodies, Tex. That adds up to no crash. What do you know about the report that came from the CIA a few hours after the plane went missing, the one that said it had landed safely on Sakhalin?’

  ‘I know that no one seriously believed it.’

  No one except for maybe a Japanese radar operator only fifty miles away at Wakkanai, thought Ben.

  ‘The report was never verified,’ continued Tex. ‘And since when has the CIA ever made public reports?’

  ‘If 007 crashed in the water, what happened to the wreckage along with the remains of the people aboard it?’

  ‘The fighter that shot it down had to return to base, low on fuel, so there were no eyeballs on the airliner when it hit the water. But it crashed somewhere, obviously. Maybe the plane came down further up the Tartar Strait and the currents took the wreckage away from the search and rescue operations. There was a report that the 747 flew on for another twelve minutes after the missile strike.’

  ‘I know. Was KAL 007 on a spy mission, flown deliberately over the USSR to light up its radars?’

  ‘That’s what you think?’

  ‘It’s the theory doing the rounds that makes the most sense to me.’

  ‘I don’t think it makes any sense whatsoever. With the assets we had pointed at the Soviet Far East back then, we knew everything worth knowing about their defenses. And what we knew was that the Russians had more holes in their turf than the greens at a gopher convention. The fact that 007 overflew so much Soviet territory before they caught up with it is proof of that. If 007 was on a spy mission, I have no idea what mission it might have been on. And as for the supposed E-Systems/Andrews AFB stopoff you mentioned, that doesn’t make any sense either. What if that 747 fell into Soviet hands and they found intelligence-gathering equipment on it? Can you imagine the stink?’

  The same thought had occurred to Ben.

  ‘This is as much as I’m going to tell you,’ Tex continued. ‘KAL 007 arrived at waypoint NEEVA a full nine minutes later than its original estimate given at NABIE, the previous waypoint. Nine minutes is a long time for a commercial airliner not to show up.’

  Ben turned to look at Tex. ‘And?’

  ‘You’re a pilot. Figure it out.’

  ‘Gee, thanks for the insight.’ Ben banked the Otter again and put it on a heading back to Key West. ‘So those guys who paid you a visit—the NSA agents. What did they look like?’

  ‘Who said they were guys?’

  The realization hit Ben like a slap. ‘Was one of them an attractive brunette with a tan?’

  ‘You got a visit too, huh?’

  ‘Jesus . . .’

  So Lana was NSA, some kind of secret agent. And she’d slept with him. Was it just to find out what he knew? Did secret agents really do that shit? And now she had the key. Did she know about the tape, too? This was not Ben’s world and he felt completely out of his depth. He glanced at Tex. There was a reason Curtis had wanted him to contact his old navigator. He hoped to hell that trust had something to do with it.

  ‘Tex, there’s someone I think you should meet.’

  ‘Is Akiko here yet?’ Ben asked Cecilia, Tex close behind him.

  ‘In the TV room,’ Cecilia replied, waving to a couple of customers heading off with one of the other pilots.

  ‘Tex, come and meet the woman I was telling you about.’

  Akiko was reading the Tokyo Shimbun online, sitting on the couch with a laptop on her knees. She glanced up and was about to say something to Ben when Tex put his finger against his lips, silencing her. He took a pad and pen out of his bag and scribbled a note, which he tore off and handed to Ben. The note asked that all electrical equipment in the room be turned off at the wall socket. The words ‘wireless internet’ were underlined. Tex then pointed to the lights and the laser printer, and walked around the room tapping his pencil on the LCD TV, the DVD player, the wall fan, the air-conditioning unit, an electric clock, the desk lamps and Akiko’s laptop. He wanted all of it off. He wanted Ben’s and Akiko’s cell phones turned off and left on the table. The note also asked for a wet mop.

  ‘You want to do some cleaning?’ Ben asked.

  Tex shook his head and put a finger against his lips.

  Ben did as Tex asked—turned everything off—then stepped out of the room to get a mop. When he returned, Tex was standing on a chair and waving his gadget around a bank of fluorescent lights in the ceiling. When he saw the mop, he stepped down off the chair and checked that the head was wet enough, then went over to the window, propped it firmly against the glass and drew the blind. He then passed his instruments over their cell phones before taking them apart and examining the circuitry. Satisfied, he put them all back together.

  ‘We’re clear,’ he said.

  There was a large question mark on Akiko’s face.

  ‘Akiko, this is Tex Mitchell,’ said Ben. ‘He’s the guy from the photo I went to see yesterday, the navigator who flew with Curtis in the RC-135.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, breaking into a smile. ‘I’m honored to meet you.’

  ‘Hello, Akiko,’ said Tex, shaking her hand. ‘Ben has told me a little about you. You’ve come all the way from Japan, I hear.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He also told me you lost your mother on KAL 007. I was very sorry to hear that.’

  ‘There are many things I’d like to ask you,’ she said.

  ‘That makes two of us,’ said Ben. ‘Why don’t you start with what the mop’s all about?’

  ‘Okay, well, what I just did was conduct a diode search, using a sniffer to find radio frequency emanations that shouldn’t be coming from things like this paperweight, for instance.’ He waved the instrument over the small model of a seaplane. The needle didn’t move. ‘But there are easier places to hide bugs—like in any electrical gear. A wireless computer network is a prime surveillance target. It can be used as a transmitter or as a switching mechanism for listening devices—to turn them on when they’re needed, and off to avoid detection. Cell phones are another easy place to secrete a bug. And just because the cell’s turned off doesn’t mean the bug stops working.’

  ‘Do you think we’re being bugged?’ Akiko asked.

  ‘Tex thinks the NSA might have rekindled an interest in 007 since Curtis died,’ said Ben.

  ‘The NSA is the National Security Agency,’ Tex added. ‘It’s the agency that—’

  ‘I know what the NSA is,’ said Akiko. ‘Did you find anything just now?’

  ‘No. That’s why we’re talking.’

  ‘And the mop?’ Ben prompted.

  ‘Right. Well, when you talk, the sound waves strike the windowpane, which vibrates and acts
as a big diaphragm. There’s a device that can bounce a laser beam off the glass and pick up those minute oscillations and then convert them back into sound. The wet mop dampens the glass and stops it vibrating.’

  ‘What makes you so sure the NSA has an interest in us?’ Akiko asked as Ben turned on the lights and the internet router.

  ‘Akiko, I told you about the key and how I lost it?’ Ben said.

  She nodded.

  ‘I didn’t lose it. The key was taken—stolen by an NSA agent.’

  ‘Whoa,’ said Tex. ‘Hold it right there, partner. What key? You didn’t mention anything about a key.’

  ‘Curtis left me a key to a safe deposit box. The number on the key—the box number—was 007.’

  ‘You’re shitting me,’ said Tex.

  ‘The NSA investigator who came to my house yesterday stole the key when I wasn’t looking.’

  ‘Fuck,’ Tex said, sitting down. ‘So let me get this straight. Curtis left you something in a safe deposit box, the number of which was 007?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And the investigator stole the key?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fuck!’ he repeated, this time with emphasis. ‘What was in the box? Did you open it?’

  ‘Yeah. I cleaned it out, so having the key won’t do the NSA any good.’ Ben opened a cupboard and revealed a small safe. He punched in the four-digit code and the door sprang ajar.

  Tex’s eyes went wide when he saw what Ben removed.

  ‘Don’t get too excited. I’ve played it and there’s nothing on it,’ said Ben.

  ‘Nothing at all?’

  ‘Unless you consider a sound like whales copulating something.’

  ‘Let’s have a look,’ Tex said.

  Ben handed him the tape.

  ‘I don’t think Curtis would have gone to the trouble of leaving you this in a safe deposit box if it was useless.’

  ‘I took it to a sound technician. He said he thought the tape was too old, or damaged in some way.’

  ‘But there’s some sound on it, right?’

  ‘Static.’

  ‘It could be encrypted.’

  ‘Could be, I guess . . . I wouldn’t know.’

  ‘Ben, the NSA came to see me after they paid you a visit. That means there’s a good chance we’re both going to come under surveillance. Most likely it’ll start with a knock on the door from the electric company or the phone company, someone with a van and a clipboard. They’ll say they need to check this or that. Or maybe they’ll cause a fault in your air-conditioning. You’ll call to get it fixed, and you’ll get a bug up your ass.’

  ‘Akiko, do you have the letter?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tex should see it.’

  ‘What letter? How many more rabbits are you gonna pull out of your hat?’ Tex asked.

  Akiko hesitated, then took the letter from her bag. Tex took the thin folded paper and opened it up. As Ben watched him read, he saw the man’s face go pale.

  ‘Jesus Almighty,’ he whispered. ‘Is this genuine?’

  ‘I met him,’ Akiko said. ‘He lived in my apartment building and we talked on a few occasions. I was shocked when I received the letter. I didn’t know what to think, what to believe, so I hired a private detective. He confirmed that Yuudai Suzuki was stationed at Wakkanai during 1983 and worked for the Chosa Besshitsu.’

  ‘Sounds like a breed of dog,’ Ben commented.

  ‘The Chosa Besshitsu is the Japanese NSA,’ said Tex. ‘I think perhaps Yuudai Suzuki was checking you out. What did you talk about, anything in particular?’

  ‘Airplane accidents,’ said Ben. ‘It’s a hobby of hers.’ He went to the desk and scooped the heavy scrapbook left by Akiko for him to study under an arm. ‘Have a look.’

  He put the book on the couch beside Tex, who opened it at random to a color photo of the ill-fated Korean Air Lines 747. He turned through several pages revealing maps, articles and interviews.

  ‘I have several more of these at home,’ Akiko said.

  ‘You talked to Suzuki about all this specifically?’ Tex asked.

  ‘A little. I can’t remember the details.’

  ‘With the letter came a check for almost $100,000,’ Ben said.

  Tex whistled. ‘The money kinda puts this all beyond hoax territory, don’t it?’

  ‘Curtis left me almost the exact same amount,’ said Ben. ‘What do you think that means?’

  ‘Curtis and Yuudai were in this together. Perhaps it means that now you and Akiko are, too.’ Tex sat back. ‘So let’s think this through. What Yuudai says he saw is at complete odds with the official version of events. Coming from someone like Yuudai, a Chosa Besshitsu radar operator working the screens at Wakkanai on the night KAL 007 went down? That’s what I call a bombshell.’ Tex tapped the spool of tape with his thumb. ‘The Regional Operations Control Centre at Elmendorf Air Force Base destroyed its tapes of that night.’

  ‘Who?’ said Ben. ‘What?’

  ‘The Regional Operations Control Centre at Elmendorf Air Force Base, Alaska,’ said Akiko. ‘There were many radars on the Alaskan coast that looked out over the Bering Sea and these were remoted to the Elmendorf facility. There was an NSA communications intelligence unit based there, and it was also home to the 6981st Electronic Security Squadron.’

  Tex’s mouth was slightly ajar.

  ‘You’ll get used to it, Tex,’ said Ben. ‘She has an encyclopedic knowledge of the subject.’ He turned to Akiko. ‘Go on. . .’

  ‘The aircraft movements the radars picked up were recorded on tape at Elmendorf, the tapes examined and then recycled every thirty hours. But for some reason, on the night KAL 007 flew through its sector, the tapes were recycled—destroyed—within hours.’

  ‘Had they not been destroyed,’ said Tex, ‘those tapes might have shown the aircraft flying a perfect great circle line before changing course, hooking a right and heading toward the USSR.’

  ‘Is that actually what happened?’ Ben asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Tex replied. ‘And if I did, I couldn’t say.’

  ‘You were there. You’d know.’

  ‘Ben, as I’ve told you already, I can’t and won’t go there. And besides, we were just Air Force. We flew the plane, nothing more. The guys down the back did all the snooping. They never told us what they did or didn’t see and we never asked—against the rules.’

  ‘Is that what you think we might have here?’ Akiko asked, gesturing at the spool in Tex’s hand. ‘A copy of the Elmendorf tape?’

  ‘No. Your Mr Suzuki wouldn’t have had access to that material. A lot of stuff was never turned over to the investigation, aside from those Elmendorf tapes. As I’m sure you know, there were tapes of the communications between the Japanese ground controllers and the 007 flight crew. Never released.’

  Akiko nodded.

  ‘There were also the communications between the Russian military controllers and their fighter pilots and the airliner—also never released.’

  ‘Why not?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Because the Soviets didn’t want something that was on their tapes revealed,’ said Akiko. ‘They claimed they tried to contact the plane before they shot it down. Perhaps they lied about that.’

  ‘If you want my opinion,’ said Tex, ‘more than likely those tapes just showed how truly incompetent the Soviet defenses were—and that wouldn’t have suited anyone’s purposes, theirs or ours. No point arming yourself to the teeth against an enemy with no fangs of their own. And we never released anything of real recorded value either, citing reasons of national security.’

  Tex went back to tapping the tape with his thumb. ‘Maybe that’s what we’ve got here—those Russian ground controllers frantically trying to contact 007 and the Koreans ignoring them. The Russians claimed they called up the plane on 121.5 and asked them to divert to a military field. They also claimed the flight crew never responded. Our side denied that ever happened. If the Russians were telling the trut
h, then it heavily suggests the Koreans were engaged in a little selective radio silence, playing dumb to the Russians while they acted like responsible aviation corporates to Tokyo Radio. You don’t play those games unless you’ve got something to hide.’

  ‘Yes, I see,’ Akiko said.

  ‘The post-crash investigation conducted by the International Civil Aviation Organization came to the conclusion that KAL 007 had blundered off course because it had no hard evidence beyond the circumstantial—no smoking gun—that proved otherwise. The ICAO, being a UN body, had no power of subpoena, no way to go hunting for evidence. And no one, the Russians or us, was prepared to release anything damning. It was the Cold War.’ Tex stared at the spool as if trying to absorb its secrets by force of will. ‘Do you mind if I read the letter again?’ he asked.

  Akiko handed it to him.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Ben asked when he saw Tex nodding slowly to himself.

  ‘I’m changing my mind about what this could be. Maybe this is the smoking gun. Everything we collected on our flights was recorded for later analysis. And it would have been the same at the Chosa Besshitsu facility at Wakkanai. Perhaps this isn’t audio tape, but radar tape. I’m starting to think that, just maybe, what’s on here is what Yuudai Suzuki actually saw on the morning of September 1, 1983—a plane heading for an emergency landing at the Soviet Dolinsk-Sokol base on Sakhalin Island.’

  ‘Just like in the CIA report,’ said Ben.

  ‘Yeah,’ Tex agreed. ‘You know, I can see why Curtis kept this in a vault. There are people who’d kill for it.’

  ‘Like the US government?’ Akiko asked.

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Oh, c’mon,’ Ben snorted.

  ‘Where are you staying, Akiko?’ Tex asked.

  ‘At a hotel—the Crowne Plaza.’

  ‘It’s in Key West?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Don’t go anywhere near Ben’s home. It would also be best if you didn’t come back here. In the meantime, I’ll figure out a way the three of us can communicate with each other reasonably securely.’

  ‘Um,’ said Ben, ‘aren’t you overreacting a little?’

  ‘No,’ said Tex. ‘I don’t believe I am.’