John Nance - Lockout

“And you think the Reynolds woman knows that code?”

“We think she has the ability to figure it out. He’s probably protecting his interests. She has no idea what he does to people who are no longer of use to him.”

“I’ve seen the file. But what if she’s his confederate? What if she’s the means of sending the triggering message that started all this?”

“Her boss doesn’t think that’s possible.”

“Right… like every serial killer. The neighbors swear he was a great guy.”

“In any event, we need to find them fast, before DIA kills them both and we lose any answers.”

“Any track on where they are?”

“Yes and no. In DC at some apartment earlier tonight, but they left that location. DIA and we are bumping into each other trying to pick up the trail.”

“Jason, what are the chances the woman really does have the key? The unlock code, so to speak.”

“Her boss says she’s the best, and if anyone can figure it out, she can.”

Walter rubbed his eyes as his deputy waited for the inevitable thought process to end with an order or observation.

“Okay, you’ve been in the thick of the chase for hours. Pull back and grab some perspective. We have a phantom operative who planted himself for, what, six months in Mojave just to dispatch the wrong aircraft? And now we think he’s down to the wire trying to prevent the undoing of his dastardly deeds, right?”

“Essentially.”

“Jason, could Piper have done this all alone?”

“Sir, what I can’t grasp is what was engineered into that airliner that he could activate that would lock out the pilots. I don’t know airplanes, but that seems impossible.”

“Let’s say he could, technically. For the sake of argument. Could he have pulled all this off solo?”

“Maybe. Probably. Piper is clearly one of the best. He’s almost a legend, and we never expected to see him back stateside. We’re thinking that with six months of uninterrupted access to the airplane his employer thought was sealed and mothballed, he could have actually installed something very complex. He’s an electrical engineering graduate, you know, with a lot of practical experience.”

“I missed that. From Cal Tech, too, correct?”

“Yes. And we also know he’s a Lavi loyalist, because it was Moishe Lavi, while he was running Mossad a few years back, who set Piper up in luxury with all the females he wanted after he did God knows what for them. No, he’s a loyalist, and if this was planned as Lavi’s last play, you can bet Piper’s a part of it. But we’ll have to find bodies to make this scenario real. Where’s the real Bronson? Where’s the real Mojave employee?”

“Where will Miss Reynolds end up? And maybe more.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Call me the moment you’ve got a bead on him, and we’ll share with DIA.”

“Sir, we figure those pilots are just a hair more than an hour away from Tel Aviv. Just so you know.”

“Understood.”

The Oval Office

Flanked and trailed by the same advisors and Secret Service agents, the president negotiated the relatively short distance back to the ground floor without discussion, waiving off his secretary and the waiting chief of staff as he pushed through the door into the most famous office on the planet, closing it carefully behind him as he looked at the lone visitor and shook his head ruefully.

“Jesus Christ, Paul! So it was you.”

“Mr. President, I’m afraid so.”

“When I heard the pilots couldn’t control the aircraft, I thought of you, but when I heard Colorado Springs was the aircraft’s home, the coincidence was too much. But then again, one of my most trusted generals would never let anything like this occur. Right?”

“I’m very sorry, Mr. President.”

The president crossed to the desk and consulted a folder before looking up again.

“What the hell happened, Paul? You wouldn’t believe the briefing I received downstairs a little while ago.”

“I probably would, sir.”

The president motioned him to the couch as he sat heavily into an adjacent captain’s chair.

“Give me the basics.”

Paul Wriggle quickly summarized the series of disastrous discoveries starting with the Airbus A330 ending up as a commercial flight, the efforts to broadcast a disconnect signal, the complete mystery of how the cockpit lockout happened, and his call to Rick Hastings.

“Dammit!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hastings doesn’t have to keep quiet.”

“I couldn’t wait.”

“I can see that. That briefing I just received makes me think there’s a high possibility Lavi is behind this. Of course, our spooks down there think your outfit may be a front for Lavi.”

“Well, you certainly know better, Mr. President.”

“Yes, I do. But a black project has to stay invisible, and we just dropped the cloak. By the way, have you ever heard of a William Piper?”

“No, sir. Why?”

“He’s the guy who apparently sent the wrong airplane to Pangia… your airplane.”

“He’s the one working for Mojave Aircraft?”

“So I’m told. I don’t know whether they’re sure of this, but if it is the guy the CIA thinks it is, he’s a former Mossad operative.”

“Oh, dear God! I only just found out from my team on the way here that Lavi’s on board. I… we have no idea how anyone could have known about our aircraft, let alone where it was. I guess it is possible that we could have run afoul of a clandestine operation. One of our key people has gone missing, a lady named Gail Hunt, and she’s the one developing the lock and unlock codes.”

“One of DIA’s men has gone missing as well here in DC, just since this morning.”

“Really?”

“Paul, what do we need to do right this moment to get those people out of danger?”

Paul Wriggle sighed and shook his head. “I honestly can’t think of anything we’re not doing, especially after my call to Hastings. Undoubtedly he’ll try to get that code to his crew.”

The president was up and pacing in front of the large desk.

“What if I order NSA to use everything they’ve got to help get a signal out?”

“That could help. We don’t have much time, but if they could trigger a broadcast on a transponder that we haven’t been using that covers the Med, it could work.”

The President yanked up the phone and ordered the call. When finished, he turned back to Paul Wriggle.

“The Company thinks NSA itself may have been co-opted and at least someone there is working for Lavi. Any chance they could be right?”

“I… have no way of knowing. During normal tests, we send the activation signal…”

“The one that causes the aircraft to lockout the cockpit?”

“Yes. If there was an airborne aircraft with the system operational, we would send that signal to NSA by fiber optics and they broadcast it automatically worldwide. It’s very hard to detect… we built the network carefully. All the pathways and protocols were set up to use without human intervention from their end. Like an open channel we could trigger at will. Someone at NSA probably caught wind of that and knowing nothing about the project, assumed a breach.

The president was nodding. “Somehow DIA was alerted to your signals and got suspicious.”

“Mr. President, whatever signal activated the aircraft systems, it did not come from us. At least, not volitionally.”

“Which brings us right back to the possibility that our Israeli friend could be behind this, which means Moishe Lavi has the upper hand.” The president sighed deeply, his eyes studying the carpet.

“What can I do, Mr. President, considering that hara-kiri is not part of our culture?”