Robert Smith - The Planner

“Oh, it is,” said the scientist. “There is probably less than twenty people in the whole of the USA that know one end of an anthrax spore from the other.”

Bates looked over towards Planner and Planner nodded. They knew that their psyop memes were cultivated in the space between facts and opinion, and anything that was a shade of gray could made either black or white as far as the public consensus was concerned.

Planner, Bates and Turq flew back to New York early evening.

Onboard the aircraft, sitting in the first class cabin next to Turq with Bates across the other side of the aircraft, Planner noticed the checklists used by the Flight Attendants checking passengers onto the aircraft.

Turq noticed Planner grinding his teeth, “Something wrong, Boss?”

Planner shifted uncomfortably on his seat, as he casually looked around to make sure that no-one could hear him; there were few other passengers in First Class. “I’m just wondering about the back stories of the passengers and crew?”

Turq said incredulously, “You want me to go through that now? Each one?”

Planner grimaced, “No, no-no. I was wondering how about the relationships between, say, friends and relatives and media. How is that being handled? Especially if the media gets too interested in the victims… or if any of the relatives are contacted. I’m just trying to stop blowback. It’s ok, we won’t be overheard.”

Turq looked around and sprung her manicured fingers together clearly irritated, “It’s against protocol to talk about this outside the office.”

Planner gave a wry smile.

Turq huffed then preceded to explain, “Well, we have three classes of, er… legends 64for both passenger and crew. First, are the virtual. These are new identities, created from our covert operations department so they will have the right backgrounds, tags and history. The department creates these identities at consistent rate for CIA field operatives. It’s a slow process and we do not want to alert them of our demand so it has remained slow. Fortunately they have a backlog of unused identities and we have grabbed that pile. Secondly, we have er… staff wishing to transfer into WITSEC. There is only limited scope to expand the numbers going into that program; it is already max-ed out. Thirdly we have innocents, people that will be caught up in events. We’re proposing to harvest victims…” Turq looked around to make sure no-one could hear, “…from road traffic accidents. Apparently this method has been used before, I’m not familiar, as yet, on the hand-over process between ambulance crew and airport staff. So in answer to your question; the media need to be diverted from the virtual victims, the relatives need to be managed for the WITSEC victims. But the key to Stage C, will be the innocents; they will be the main method of distraction. They will provide the cover that the other identities will effectively hide behind.”

Planner cleared his throat, “So that was plan? Take road traffic victims?”

Turq said, “Sure. Have our own ambulance and clean up crew to pick up the innocents from the roadside and transport them to the airport. I’ll be there to load them into the aircraft. Hack their email accounts and send a note to friends and family: hey we’ve decided to go off on vacation. Or use voice actors to leave messages. Load the bodies into the drones or take DNA samples and dispose rest as biohazard.”

“This’ll all be done the day or two before the Big Event?” asked Planner.

“Yes,” said Turq, transfixing Planner with one of her hypnotic stares.

“I think we need a better plan,” said Planner tartly.

* * * *

Planner returned to his hotel room. As soon as he entered, he dropped his travel bag on his bed and put his brief case on the desk. He unlocked his case and extracted his pack of sim cards. He inserted a new sim-card into his cell phone and dialled a number.

“It’s Robert. The material is secured. It will be with us in a few weeks.”

“Excellent,” said the Lodge Master.

Planner explained the bare bones of the meeting they had earlier in the day.

“You need to make an association between the Rainbow Actors and the material,” said the Lodge Master. “Make sure that a couple of them have a minor infection and have it treated; this will build the evidence trail.”

“Right,” said planner.

There was obviously something in Planner’s tone of voice because the Lodge Master said, “You seem tense, Robert. Is everything all right with you?”

After a minor hesitation, Planner said, “I’m worried about uncoordinated aspects of the plan. They er… may affect the overall storyline and objectives.”

“I’m not following you, Robert,” said the old man.

“I’m talking about inconsistencies in our story and Loose Ends, Sir.”

“Loose ends?”

“Yes,” said Planner.

“Robert, I admire you dedication and attention to detail,” said the Lodge Master. “But really inconsistencies are not a problem. And will not be a problem. To the people in the know it will be our signature. Take, for example, JFK’s magic bullet 65in Dallas. It was cogently explained by one our experts and now stand outs like a trophy on our wall. The public are content with the story provided by the politicians and the media, even as the experts argue over details.”

“I know we have our gatekeepers and I worry needlessly,” said Planner.

“No, continue to worry about loose ends, Robert,” encouraged the Lodge Master. “Do the best you can but realise we will manage the inconsistencies and no blame will be attached to anybody. We do have the people to describe snow as black 66, and be believed.”

“Thanks for the pep-talk, Most Worshipful Master.”

“Speak to you soon, no doubt,” replied the old man.

Planner hung up, removed the sim-card and re-inserted the original sim-card. Planner destroyed the singlely-used sim-card and threw the remains away.

Then the cell phone rang. Planner looked at it surprised.

“Hello?” said Planner cautiously.

“It’s Katherine,” came the reply

“Hiiii!” said Planner with relief.

“You didn’t call me today!” mocked Katherine as a joke.

“Oh. Sorry. I…” Planner said, not too sure whether it was a joke or not.

“Just kidding,” she assured. “I know you’re busy. Just phoning to say that I can’t make it tonight.”

“Oh,” said Planner disappointed. He looked at his watch; it was 8pm.

“SEC seem to be getting into gear. We have a pre-trial hearing in October. We’re compiling the best evidence for the judicial review. So, we’re calling in pizza and working late tonight.”

“Yeah, pizza normally sorts these things out. Well, perhaps another time.”

“Definitely,” she said.

“But that’s great news, isn’t it? You’re going to get the jerks?”

“It looks that way. But you know what I heard today? Enron Execs are known as the Smartest Guys in the Room! That made me feel ill. Daylight robbery being described as smart. Just because they don’t have a mask and a gun in their hand…”

“Hiding in plan sight,” observed Planner. “It’s a common method of camouflage. It happens all the time.”

“It does?”

“Sure. Tell me, Katherine, can I try a little thought experiment?”

“Are you going to prove your point?”

“Probably not,” said Planner, thinking it probably was not going to be a good idea.

“Sure. Go on.”

“So JFK. Did Oswald shoot JFK? Was he the Lone Gunman?”

“Hmm, I’m not too sure what you are getting at, but yes. I saw the NBC special on it. Yeah, he was,” she said.

“So have you heard of Oswald’s magic bullet?”