John Nance - Lockout

Will and Jenny exchanged glances.

“And the ‘it’ you’re talking about… that’s a black project, sir?” Will asked.

“Yes. You don’t need to know the official name, but I wanted a pilot project… no pun intended… for a foolproof way of taking control of a hijacked or compromised airliner from the ground. I wanted to see if the thing was ever going to be feasible, partly because I also knew that our radical Islamic enemies were never going to let go of their burning desire to hijack airliners and use them in their murderous schemes. I still think I’m right to do so. Even if we never deploy the system, we’ll learn a great deal about the art of the possible. So, I’ve kept it going as a deep black air force project, headed by General Wriggle here. Everyone had to sign a legal loyalty contract that would slap them in Leavenworth if they ever revealed any associated classified information. Of course, I’m well aware that you two haven’t signed such a contract, but I’m going to ask you to do so.”

Jenny had leaned forward to say something but the president raised his hand to stop her. “You need to hear the rest of it. Somehow the top secret test airplane, the A330 Paul’s people bought to experiment with got out of his hands last week and ended up being flown as a regular flight by Pangia Airways, and in the middle of the flight, this test bed electronics package suddenly activated. The activation signal came from NSA’s transmitters but was supposed to be triggered only from the project’s headquarters in Colorado Springs. No such test signal was scheduled. Am I right, Paul?”

“That’s correct.”

“Okay, so this is why we think we’re dealing with sabotage. That and the presence of the former Israeli PM, of course. Somehow, someone found out about the project and bent it to his purpose, and that someone had to be our old friend Lavi. I’d bet the next election on it. Lavi, Mossad, and a galaxy of very clever people are undoubtedly involved, and your suspicion, Will, that DIA was somehow involved is not outlandish, although it would be sad, if that were true.”

“And all of this to start a war, sir?” Jenny asked.

“I personally think so. Not start a war so much as end the chance of one, in Lavi’s view. But I’m convinced it was the late Mr. Lavi’s last ditch effort to create an excuse to preemptively strike Iran’s nuclear capabilities, which is what he openly expressed that he wanted to do. If so, thank God he failed. And he failed because you two refused to stay silent. Do I understand it right that you, Jenny, discovered the strange radio signals and called in Mr. Bronson here?”

“Yes, sir, but at the direction of my boss, Seth Ziegler.”

The president leaned forward slightly, his eyes boring into Jenny’s. “I understand, but it was your vigilance that placed it before him. So, I have to ask you, Jenny Reynolds, how does it feel?”

“How does what feel, Mr. President?”

“How does it feel to have very likely prevented a nuclear war?”

She met the president’s gaze, noting a kindly smile behind the question before the answer formed on her lips.

“Surreal, sir. Very surreal.”

An aide had quietly entered the room with a note for the president, who read it and nodded, folding it again before looking at General Wriggle.

“Well, Paul…” the president began, sighing, “I think our concerns about getting that Airbus flyable and out of there are over as well.”

Paul Wriggle came forward in his seat with a startled expression. “Why, sir?”

The President slid the note across the table to him. “Because, according to this, there was a smoldering fire in the electronics bay they didn’t find until it exploded in open flames. Our security team sounded the alarm when they discovered it, but it was too late. The aircraft is in ashes.”

Four days later

National Security Agency, Ft. Meade, Maryland (9:30 a.m. EST)

Jenny Reynolds stepped into the NSA, somewhat surprised that her security badge was still valid. She was still in a fog of emotions. Seth had relayed word to take the rest of the week off, but her world had shifted, and she was off balance. Work was to be her anchor to normalcy.

Seth was waiting when the elevator opened, scooping her into a full body embrace that he would have never dared just a week before.

“We’re so glad you’re okay, and so very proud of you!”

When it was apparent he didn’t know when to let go, she gently unfolded his lanky arms from around her, knowing her smile was too thin and uncertain to properly thank him, but trying nonetheless.

“I just want to get back to work, Seth,” she managed, finally.

“You will.”

“And I’m so glad you… I mean, that there was no involvement…”

He nodded back, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t know for awhile there whether you had gone rogue, or I had, or the agency, or what. It was all terribly confusing.”

“God, was it ever!” she echoed, following him side by side at a slow walk toward the double doors leading to her section. “Is there any word on Will?”

“How do you mean, Jenny?” Seth asked, nudging her along.

“I got the impression he was in big trouble with his bosses, but he hasn’t contacted me since that night.”

“After what you two pulled off, I seriously doubt he’s in trouble. Politics may be rancid, but when the president is singing your praises, the intelligence community is all ears. Not that we aren’t anyway,” he said with a smirk.

Seth opened the double doors for her, and Jenny stepped in, stunned to see the whole extended team in the large room standing and looking at her, and even more dumbstruck when they started clapping and cheering. She had to suppress the urge to run, or at least to turn to see if there was someone else they were applauding.

Seth motioned for quiet and raised his voice, addressing the group and rambling through a brief speech about their pride in her perseverance and the number of people who probably owed their lives to her—a sentiment she didn’t share. After all, it had been her old code the air force general’s people had used. All she’d done was try to defuse the bomb they’d built with her unwitting participation. And, she thought, it was mainly Will who wouldn’t give up.

Her face visibly reddened from the embarrassing attention, she smiled as broadly as she could manage and mouthed a thank you as she waved to her colleagues and followed Seth into his office.

“That was very moving, Seth. Thank you!”

“Hey, everyone was involved. There’s even a cake for later.”

“No!”

“It’s a small one. We’re government, after all.” He looked at her quizzically. “What’s wrong, Jenny?”

“Frankly?”

“Yes. No holds barred.”

“I’m scared, Seth! All this attention—I’m afraid this has raised the bar so high for me I can never jump over it again.”

“No one expects you to defuse an international incident every week, Jen!”

He could see there were tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. “The president of the United States asked me… ME … how it felt to have stopped a nuclear war. Where do I go from there, Seth?”

“Maybe that was your moon landing.”

“Sorry?”

“All the astronauts who walked on the moon—and especially the first ones, Buzz Aldrin in particular—wondered the same thing. How do you top that? Talk about raising the bar on yourself.”

“So how did they handle it?”

“As a beginning, not an end. What you did was a milestone that showed the world what Jenny Reynolds is made of. The incident simply showed us the real you. It didn’t define you. Make sense?”