Robert Smith - The Planner

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.

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 Post 113, 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.”