Robert Smith - The Planner

There was general laughter from the audience. They were all aware of Operation Mockingbird 4that established a CIA presence in all US mass media organisations.

Indigo hesitantly raised his hand again and after a nod from Planner, uttered. “Going back to the radar picture, wouldn’t radar operators see the aircraft and drone come together and separate?”

“That’s a very good point, er… Indigo, right,” Planner replied, admiring his persistence in his challenge to the plan. “We intend to do the switch in an area of poor radar coverage. Particularly after we close down the main ARSR over the operational area.”

“ARSR-what?” someone called out.

Planner smiled, “Air Route Surveillance Radar”. And added, “And in any case, air traffic controllers only really use the transponder codes and not any raw radar.”

Indigo rubbed his chin considering the implications.

Planner resumed his scripted words, clicking onto a set of bullet points on a new powerpoint slide. “So this is our job: Operation Northwoods updated for the 21st Century: Fly a drone. Convince the FAA it is an airliner. Have it hijacked. Cause a commotion. Have it blow up somewhere over the United States. The most likely scenario is crashing the plane into a building.

A slightly built, Mediterranean-looking woman, caught Planner’s eye. Once eye-contact was locked-on, she released her missile of a question, “What’s the target?” she said.

Planner looked uncomfortable, “The target is confidential at the moment”, he said. “But we will be giving telephone warnings ahead of time to allow evacuation and reduce needless casualties. We’re interested in televising the event and minimising collateral damage.”

The woman, code-named Turquoise, nodded and appeared satisfied.

“Yes,” Planner clarified. “This is a domestic operation, no trips down to South America for this one. So it can be blamed on Iraq or Iran or whatever our Commander in Chief has in mind. That’s our Mission Impossible. Sorry, it’s not pretty.”

“So there are we planning an invasion of a particular country? Do we have to find specific nationals and nationalities?” called a female voice from the back.

“That has not been described to me. I understand we have been receiving cooperation from certain Middle Eastern countries in providing operatives. Particular nationalities are not essential to the plan.”

Planner could feel many members of the audience relax and he felt he could then breathe easily from then onwards. “Now, I know you have all been selected for this job because of your previous experience, trustworthiness and loyalty. But this is a domestic job and some civilians may, actually almost certainly, will, get hurt or killed. Obviously, no-one wants that but, you all know about the secret wars we fight for our country. I know you’ve all done foreign missions but this is different and I understand that. If there’s anybody that wants to get out now then that is fine. We can arrange a suitable exit. Subject to the usual non-disclosure terms, of course…” Planner let this sink in before concluding melodramatically. “Because once you’re in, you’re in for keeps. I guess you know that. Anyone?”

Silence. Planner expected nothing less. “I take it then, you are all in. If you’re not, come and see me later. Seriously.” Planner looked directly at Indigo’s gaze, who then immediately looked down.

Planner then clicked the computer mouse to select the next powerpoint slide and with authority announced, “Now this action is authorised by the Contingency of Government 5Select Committee. It is controlled via the Joint Special Operations Committee and the CIA’s Special Activities Division. It is classified Top-Secret-Code-Word-Strap-3 Team-Eyes-Only. This means there is no communication outside this office about this project. All non-routine external communication is through me. Even to the White House. Understood?”

There was a murmur from audience. They understood.

Planner then switched off the slide projector and Bates adjusted the blinds to bring back daylight into the room.

Planner’s tone change to a more conversational style, “You’ll be glad to hear that there are two significance bonus payments for the team. On the day of the event and six months after the event. Tax-free, of course!”

The audience murmured approval.

“Incidentally”, Planner said, “don’t put this bonus all into your bank account or your credit card, unless you like talking to the IRS. Ok. That is all.”

The audience started chatting amongst themselves immediately. Planner and Bates exited the room quickly, brushing past a document on the edge of the table, which then fell onto the floor. The document was the original plan for Operation Northwoods. 6

* * * *

Planner and Bates walked quickly down the corridor.

“That went well”, observed Bates.

“We managed to make the outrageous seem normal”, observed Planner sardonically. “Although I guess nothing is normal for these field operative guys.”

“Welcome to Spook Central,” joked Bates. “They all have families… so go figure.”

“So who are we seeing tomorrow?” asked Planner.

“Nicholas”, Bates replied. “Well, he’s now called Nicholas, Colonel Nicholas. He used to run Rainbow but after minor health concerns, he’s reigned back a bit. He designed the Nicholas operation and is now running it. Then tomorrow night we’re flying off to California to visit the other part of the Rainbow Team.”

“The Stage B Team?”

“Right.”

The following morning, Bates and Planner were standing at an unremarkable door and gave it a knock. Nothing on the outside gave a clue as to what was behind the door.

“What was Nicholas’ minor health concern?” asked Planner.

“A heart attack?” said Bates.

“That’s minor?” said Planner incredulous.

“A minor one,” nodded Bates.

Colonel Nicholas opened the door and let them in. Nicholas was in his late fifties, clean-shaven, slim, bald and tall and dressed in a light gray suit. He certainly seemed fit for his age. He welcomed Bates and Planner into a busy office similar in size to Rainbow’s, and then into a further smaller, private inner office. On the wall was a large, military-style logo with a cartoon jet fighter in the middle of a cage with metal bars.

Nicholas explained, “Our job is to keep the air force at bay. Hence the cage”, He pointed to the logo. “Nicholas Cage. Sorry, all the code names are sort of stupid like that.”

“Right”, said Planner.

Nicholas continued, “Needless to say, it’s the air force’s job to intercept enemy aircraft, straying airliners and, dare I say, hijacked aircraft too.”

“And I guess they are good at that,” observed Planner.

Nicholas sat back in his chair, fingers pressed together. “The best air defence money can buy. Best radar, best aircraft, best computers.”

“Lots of money, sure, but how good is it, really?” asked Bates sceptically.

“On civil aircraft? The USAF intercept about 100 times a year? 7” he replied coolly.

“How about for uncivil aircraft?” asked Planner.

Nicholas stood up and paced, after a few hums, he said, “For the past forty years, we have had biennium trials of our radar defences. The game was played out with real aircraft with the Brits acting as the Red Team. The Royal Air Force flew their stealthiest aircraft, three of them, Vulcan bombers, with the objective to nuke New York. We won if we could just spot their bombers. They won if one of their bombers got to twenty miles of New York. This is public record”.

Nicholas bent down and took a book from a bookshelf and dropped it in front of Bates and Planner. The book was “Vulcan 607” by Roland White. It was about the Falklands War raid undertaken by the RAF using the old British, Flying Wing, V Bomber, the Vulcan. Planner assumed that the book corroborated Nicholas’s assertion concerning these war games.