Robert Smith - The Planner

“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.”

“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.”