Robert Smith - The Planner

“Chase plane?” asked Bates.

“It’s like a look out”, said Purple. “Just keeps track of the drone. Just occasionally we lose sync with GPS and the drone strays off the flight plan; Very infrequent and easily corrected. We use a gulfstream executive-style jet as the chase plane.”

Bates held his tongue and considered what he had just seen and heard.

Planner perked up and said with satisfaction, “That’s great. So we’re all on track?”

“Yes, Sir. Next week, we’ll be testing two drones simultaneously and then we’ll be ready for the complete aerial exercise.”

Planner’s smile faded. “What about four?” he asked.

“Two was our specification. Two targets.”

“Can you do four?” asked Planner.

“Launching four aircraft simultaneously? Eight aircraft with chasers… That’s a lot of work. We’d probably need to commandeer another airfield…”

“How about two followed by another two. Say, within a 90 minute window? We don’t need the chasers over New York since we already have the high fidelity radar in place there.”

“That maybe possible… One chaser for two drones, maybe. We’d need to see a detailed schedule,” said Purple rubbing his chin.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Planner.

Colonel Purple had another call on his cell phone and Bates and Planner walked a few yards away, buffeted by the lingering wake vortex generated by the fast fly-past.

“Four aircraft?” said Bates. “You know we’ve been planning for one.”

“Well, Unofficially, it’s four,” replied Planner with grim humour.

“The Big Event. That’s singular: one!” Bates continued. “We’ve assumed Operations Northwoods: one aircraft and 200 passengers. We can’t handle anymore than 200 people. That’s 200 people going into the witness protection programme. That’s already stretching it past its capacity by a factor of ten.”

“Well we knew we had some work to do. I guess that is what we’ve been recruited to sort out,” replied Planner.

Bates gave it some thought and, with the wind dying down, and the sun warming his back, he softened his complaints. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll sort it out,” he said.

* * * *

Bates and Planner flew back east later that day. Planner crashed out exhausted when he arrived back home. He was still in bed at lunchtime when his cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“It’s Bates. I think you better come in this afternoon. There’s a few more problems”, said Bates over the phone.

“Problems?”

“When can you get here?”

“Give me an hour,” Planner clicked off and walked to the shower.

* * * *

Bates greeted Planner as soon as he walked through the Operation Rainbow office door.

“Ok, what sort of problems?” Planner asked.

“It’s about the hijackers,” replied Bates.

“Oh?”

“They’re not happy!”

Bates escorted Planner into a small office and a slim, suited, almond-eyed, woman joined them. This was Turquoise, generally known in the office as Turq. She provided an avalanche of strange-sounding names and a discussion on operational difficulties that Planner would find hard to follow, even if he was not jet-lagged.

Planner had to stop the conversation, “I think I’ve lost the plot. Can we skip back to the beginning?”

Turq gave Planner one of her laser-like stares and after a couple of seconds, and with the sound of teeth grinding, said, “Yes, Sir. We have selected ten middle-eastern men for the… hijackers.” She used air-quotes for the word. “We call them the Rainbow Actors and have numbered them one to ten. We’ve arranged visas, accommodation and have been keeping them busy. Some are ex-military and easy to organise. Some of the others are booked into a flight school down in Florida where we’ve been able to keep an eye on them.”

Planner with relief, said, “Thank you, Turquoise. I’d lost the context, that’s great. So what’s the problem?”

“The Rainbow Actors are coming up to see us. They want assurances on money and their new identities.”

“Us? Here? Coming up to see us? No way!” Planner knew the first rule of Intelligence Operations: the puppets needed to be kept well away from the puppet masters.

“Yeah, Way. Six of them.”

“Can we stop them?”

Turq sighed, “Not so easy. We communicate by drop boxes and an intermediary called Hiijii. We only talk to him face to face; never by long-distance phone calls. They are coming up now. We can’t communicate with them without breaking our communications protocol.”

“It’ll be logged by the NSA 17,” added Bates.

“I know the protocol,” Planner said with mild irritation. “But what assurances? Haven’t they already been paid in cash and arranged their own new passports and the rest?”

“They are not satisfied. They’re worried,” Turq said and hesitated slightly. “Personal safety issues. Mainly because they have been tracked by the FBI.”

“I thought we had an agreed management plan,” said Planner.

“Well, yes,” she said, becoming uncomfortable. “But something sprung out from a non-controlled source. Over at the Defence Intelligence Agency 18, there’s a research programme, called Able Danger 19. It loaded up models of everybody in the USA and plotted out their behaviours and considers who could be a terrorist.”

“Everybody? What?” gasped Planner.

“It plots people’s origins, networks, jobs and funding,” continued Turq, counting out the factors on her fingers. “Apparently, foreigners connected to known villains, with no jobs, but with plenty of money, light up their dashboard like a Christmas tree.”

“You’re saying our patsies were spotted by a giant computer-dating programme?”

“In a way,” smiled Turq, relaxing for the first time in the meeting. “Network analysis is not exactly the same as computing dating but it is an adequate analogy for the time being. In any event, some the Rainbow Actors came up on their short list. The DIA called the FBI. The FBI sent out agents who identified a bunch of middle-eastern folk, training as pilots, that, I quote,” said Turg, reading from a sheet of paper, “Were not interested in take off and landing, just flying large aircraft. 20The FBI escalated the matter up their chain and it was passed over to us. So in that respect the management plan did work.”

“So can we stop the FBI’s surveillance?”

“We have a plan to stop it. The trouble is, it’s like a dog with a bone. One of the FBI agents is their Bin Laden expert 21,” said Turq.

“When are we supposed to see the hijackers?” sighed Planner.

“Tomorrow,” said Bates.

* * * *

It was raining hard on the way home. Planner parked his car on a quiet country road and took out his Blackberry cell phone and an envelope. He removed his cell phone’s sim-card and opened up the envelope. The envelope had a new cell phone sim-card that he inserted into the phone. Since the NSA tracked all telecommunications, this swap ensured that the call would be virtually untraceable.

He dialled a number.

A voice on the end of the phone warily said “Hello?”

“It’s me,” said Planner.

“Hello, Planner. How is our enterprise coming along,” said his Lodge Master mildly.

“Not too badly. We have several issues to resolve as you would expect. We are resolving them one by one, although… Sir, I do have a request to make.”

“Go on.”

“We have Blue-On-Blue. I need a removal,” said Planner.

“Permanent or temporary.”

“I suggest a career change.”

“Understood. Name?”

“John Patrick O’Neill 22 23”

“Yes, I know him. FBI. I’ll arrange. Any other issue I can help you with?”