John Nance - Lockout

“Yes, sir, we had one of our men deployed to NSA this morning because we detected some strange satellite signals and wondered if they were military and we wanted their assistance.”

“So, what did he find?”

“We… don’t know yet, sir, because it appears he’s… suddenly dropped off the radar. We don’t know if he’s refusing to come in, or why he’s gone silent, or who he was talking to at NSA, if he even got there.”

“You’ve misplaced one of your agents?”

“Misplaced is a bit harsh, Mr. President. We’re quite concerned about him.”

One of the presidential aides quietly appeared at the president’s side and at his nod spoke a few words in his ear too low to be heard.

The president nodded in response and returned his gaze first to General Penick, and then to James Bergen. “James, what do you suspect? Forget this parochial shit and spit it out.”

“Very well. First, since we know the aircraft was operating normally until halfway into its flight and then suddenly turned around without the pilots’ knowledge, and in addition the aircraft or something in the aircraft’s systems locked the crew out of being able to control their plane, the highest likelihood is that the triggering event was a radioed order of some sort, which could have been transmitted via satellite, a ground station, or even from the cabin of the aircraft. So, if there was such a signal, since DIA was already looking into strange signals found by someone at NSA , then my immediate concern would be knowing precisely what NSA discovered, and, quite frankly, getting assurance that NSA hadn’t somehow been involved directly or otherwise in transmitting anything. I have to add that this was news to us that DIA and NSA were looking into strange signals.”

“My God, you’re suspecting a covert operation involving the NSA supporting Moishe Lavi?” the president fell silent, looking, Walter thought, suddenly a bit chalky. Just as quickly he recovered and stood up. “So what are your recommendations, gentlemen?”

“We think,” James Bergen began, “…that Israel may need some steady words of caution and calm from you, Mr. President, if the scenario doesn’t change.”

“How would it change?”

“The crew may regain control. It appears they have partially done so with the speed and at one point they did a complete circle.”

“But they’re still headed for Tehran.”

“No sir. Tel Aviv. But there are two basic scenarios, both with a bad flight plan. One, Lavi isn’t in control, this is an accident somehow, but when the airplane arrives over Tel Aviv, instead of disconnecting, it will mindlessly turn to go back to its point of origin before Tel Aviv, which was Hong Kong, which means straight over Iran and just south of Tehran. Second, this is a Lavi operation, in which case, the aircraft will also inevitably turn and head for Tehran.”

“There’s not a lot of airspace between Tel Aviv and Tehran that a 500-mile-per-hour jet can’t cover rapidly,” the president mused. “About 600 miles, I figure. How long before they’re over Israel?”

“One hour, sir.”

“And we still can’t talk to them?”

“No.”

The president was nodding. “I know Moishe reasonably well. He’s a egomaniacal bastard, but it would be consistent with his personality, whether he’s dying or committing suicide, to do it with a full professorial explanation. If that’s what’s really happening, I promise you he’s got a satellite phone ready to connect when he’s ready to speak. I’ll be back down in forty-five minutes, or sooner if you need me. James? You and General Penick here pull out all the stops to find out what that phone number is and be ready to connect me to him if it’s humanly possible to do so. And… keep me posted on your missing man, General. That’s worrisome.”

“Yes, sir.”

The group got to their feet as the president left, and General Penick leaned close to his civilian aide’s ear as he leaned down to pick up his briefcase.

“You were talking to our operations team a minute ago?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get them back on the line and tell them to lock down this city until they find that goddamned agent, Bronson.”

Aboard Pangia 10 (0320 Zulu)

“Nothing new happening up here!” Carol yelled, and Dan nodded as he sat on the floor of the electronics bay, glancing at the passenger who had been invaluable in helping solve an impossible riddle.

Frank nodded, too, his smile quite thin, the tension starkly transmitted by the tightness of his facial muscles. Small talk was difficult in the constrained space with the noise levels of cooling fans and slipstream, and Dan averted his gaze back to the strange cabinet, determined to give it a few more minutes before deciding precisely where they were in the process. The satcom antenna leads were dangling loose where he’d left them nearly a half hour before. No further orders could be received from anywhere as long as those two halves were disconnected, if there had indeed been any external control to begin with.

But that same nagging feeling that he hadn’t thought this through enough was rising again, the same feeling he had when playing chess and a gleeful move to place his opponent in check was about to turn out to be premature—the opponent poised to take advantage of the one move he’d failed to consider.

Why am I assuming there is a person on the other side of this nightmare? Dan thought, wondering if the personification of a nemesis wasn’t obscuring some larger truth. Why would anyone or any entity do this to us?

Carol’s head had disappeared from the hatch, and Dan found it suddenly unsettling to not see her there. He had all but ignored the beauty of her auburn hair cascading down through the hatch, so great was his forced discipline to concentrate on the nightmare at hand . Nothing wrong with concentrating! We’re in trouble. No time for thinking sex-related thoughts , although she was a very attractive woman. But here he was facing an uncertain future, his mind suddenly grasping for relief—something good to think about—and Carol’s femininity triggered a moment of regret that he’d paid far too little attention to his love life in the past few years.

My alleged love life, he thought, triggering a random pain that echoed back to his teens and threatened to open doors of longing he’d long since tried to nail shut. He forcibly switched off those thoughts and turned his mind back to the life-threatening dilemma at hand.

There’s always a reason for anything that takes time and money, and whoever built this thing obviously has a huge investment in it working. But to do what? Kill us?

Dan looked at the cabinet again. Obviously designed to switch off the cockpit and hand the control to… someone? What if, he mused, it was a two-stage deal? First, remove control from the cockpit, then stage two, switch the active control to someone on the ground through satellite interface? What if only stage one had occurred, and that had been an accident?

And what if someone below was trying to “fix” that mistake right now and reverse stage one?

The two disconnected ends of the satellite communications antenna were suddenly mocking him, and Dan called Frank out of his brief reverie as he pointed to them.

“Follow my logic. We disconnected and nothing has changed for a half hour. That proves we weren’t under active control, so it should be okay to reconnect, especially if someone below accidentally triggered this thing and might try to use a satcom signal to reverse their mistake.”

“So… reconnect?” Frank asked.