Robert Smith - The Planner

Everyone nods.

“Ok, once the switch has taken place. We are on the stage. The world stage. It is up to the Contact Team to act out the scripts or play the audio tapes we have in place.” Planner pointed to the contact team: Tangerine, Mint and Mahogany. Tangerine and Mint were two forty year old talented voice actors while Mahogany was a thirty year old Black woman. “So, Tangy, Minty and Moggy, we have to make it look good.”

Mahogany laughed, Tangerine smiled while Mint sneered his best thespian sneer.

“Ok. Let’s Roll.”

* * * *

Katherine was working on her home computer in her spare bedroom converted into an office. There are piles of folders around her, many marked “ENRON”. She had a mouthful of sandwich when her cell phone rang.

She made a sandwich-muffled grunt into the phone.

“It’s Robert,” said the voice on the phone.

She swallowed, “Hi, Robert. Just thinking about you. How’s it going?”

“In one sense very well. In another… more paranoia,” he said.

“D-Squad or Four Horseman levels of paranoia?” she joked.

“Both.”

She puts her sandwich down. “What can you tell me?”

“Without my powerpoint slides, not very much,” he said.

Exasperated, she said, “So a clue maybe?”

“Well, it happened this morning,” said Planner carefully. “We’re all using aliases here…”

“You are?” interrupted Katherine.

“Er… yes, standard practise,” said Planner blandly.

“So are you really called Robert?” she said tartly.

“Yes,” he said.

“And Smith?” she said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Maybe not,” he said apologetically.

Katherine picked up Planner’s TASC business card that he had given her. It was attached to the edge of her computer monitor. “But I have your business card!” she said in shock.

“Not technically accurate,” said Planner.

“I can’t believe that you lied. Worse still you took a name like Smith?” said Katherine wide-eyed.

“I know it dishonours all Smiths,” said Planner trying to make a joke, “Sorry, I’m trying to tell it the way it is.”

“An honest liar?” she mused with venom. “I’ll have to take some time to process that…”

“Let me tell you my story,” said Planner.

After a pause, she said curtly, “Go on.”

“On the course today, I think, because of the aliases we use, I believe I was mistaken for someone else,” said Planner carefully.

“I think I know the feeling,” she said with an edge.

“…Someone who is involved in an even darker plot,” said Planner and then he realised his voice was starting to crack up. “…to my own dark plot.”

Katherine was silent.

“Ok. I know this is all indefensible,” said Planner.

“And you’re still not going to tell me,” said Katherine steely.

“I’m… sorry,” Planner was just about able to utter.

“What the hell is going on?” Katherine said loudly. “What have you got yourself into? Hey, what have I got myself into?”

“You were already in it…” Planner said. “From the Enron angle. You just didn’t know it.”

“This is all too much! Too much for me!” Katherine cried.

“I understand,” Planner said trying to interrupt.

“I have enough to deal with already,” she shouted and threw the phone on the floor. Tears streamed down her face. After a minute, she picked up the phone and wiped the tears from her eyes. She pressed a call-back button.

“Are you in danger?” she said meekly.

“Yes, I think I am,” said Planner meekly.

“Can I do anything?” she whispered.

“Just remember what I said about the CEO.”

“Ok,” she said with a sob.

Planner ends the call. Katherine dropped the phone and hid her head in her hands.

* * * *

September 10th, 2001, the lead news item on TV was given by a TV news reader, “After the DoD have admitted that they cannot trace 2.3 trillion dollars in their computer systems, Secretary of Defence, Donald Rumsfeld has announced a War on Bureaucracy, setting up a taskforce in the Pentagon to track down the missing money and improve the collection of financial information within his department…” 127

It was late evening. At the end of a lit runway, immediately behind the E4-B, Planner and the rest of the Rainbow Team got off a bus. He texted Katherine as he walked towards the back of the plane, “Don’t go into the office tomorrow!”

The KneeCap was flying on a supposedly night time exercise. It would fly out to the coast, get refuelled and fly back inland with a spoofed IFF identifier. Timed to capitalise upon radar operator’s shift changes, no-one would pay much notice of the flight especially since its flight logs, and much other data for the hijackings, would be purposely destroyed in the morning. 128

* * * *

A short while later, at the Comfort Inn, Portland, Maine, 129two well-dressed, burly security men, knocked at a Motel Room door and left a case at the door.

“Yes? Who is it?” came a foreign accented voice from the room.

One of the men said, “Rainbow.”

Inside the room, Atta picked up a handgun and tucked it into the back of his pyjamas. He tentatively looked outside and saw a briefcase and a letter on top. Like most motels, the bedroom doors opened out directly to the car park. Fifty yards away moving towards a black sedan, the two security men were walking backwards, showing the palm of his hands to indicate they had no weapons. Atta took the briefcase quickly inside and shut the door.

He ripped open the letter. It contained airline tickets and a key to unlock the briefcase. He opened the briefcase and it was full of dollar bills. He smiled broadly, then checked the tickets and the smile dropped. He looked at his watch. It was quarter to midnight.

“Bastards!” he exclaimed as he realised he was not going to sleep that night.

He picked up the phone and dialled furiously. “Kalid. They’ve paid up. Pack up now. It’s tomorrow. We must go. Inform the others.” 130

* * * *

Katherine was in her pyjamas in her hotel room. She looked at Planner’s text message and agonised about what she ought to do. Finally she texted a colleague at work “Sorry, can’t make it today.” She sat on the bed and held her head in her hands.

Her phone rang almost immediately.

“Hello,” she said hesitantly.

“Katherine, you can’t make it?” said her colleague on the phone.

“No. Sorry.”

“Are you sick?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Oh crap. We need you there! If we don’t get funding, the whole team will be split up and the case against Enron goes kaput. Can I get you anything to pep-you-up so we can cover the meeting? It’s only half an hour. I can come over,” pleaded the man.

“Is the CEO going to be there?” she asked tentatively.

“Yeah. You know that. That’s the whole point of the meeting, right?” he said.

“Ok. I’ll get some cold cures and come in,” she said.

“Phew. Thanks. You nearly gave me a heart attack,” said the man in relief.

* * * *

The Rainbow Actor’s long journey to Logan Airport was not arbitrary; there was a particular reason for choosing that location. Boston’s Logan Airport security was recorded as “dismal”; it had the worst record for security at any airport in the North East USA. Tests by FAA agents were able to get 234 guns and inert hand grenades and bombs past its passenger screening checkpoints despite being fully manned and with X-ray machines. Other reports noted that perimeter doors were often left open, making it possible for anyone to gain access to planes on the ground. In summer 1999, a teenager was able to climb over the airport’s security fence, walk two miles across the tarmac, board a 747, and fly on to London. Security cameras belatedly ordered in that year had still not been installed by September 2001. 131