Russell Moran - A Climate of Doubt

“ Stargazer this is Rosetta, please come in,” sounded the voice over the speaker.

“This is Stargazer , go ahead Rosetta,” Cranston said.

“Bill, Nancy, this is Phil Duncan. Nancy, you helped us to avoid a disaster, God bless you. So now we’re just faced with a mess, not a calamity. I feel kind of dumb to ask you this question, because I’m sure you two have discussed it, but do you have any idea what happened?”

“It’s not a dumb question, Phil, and yes, we have been discussing it,” Nancy said. “The simple answer is that neither of us has any idea what went wrong. As you well know, I was the design team head for both the fail-safe software and the override procedure. At least the override worked, thank God. But the malfunctioning fail-safe system is a mystery. I assume you still follow the standard practice where you or Frank Morgan enter numbers into the computer to okay a test.”

“The protocol hasn’t changed a bit, Nancy. Remember it was mandated by the Department of Defense. We’ve got all our engineers and scientist in brainstorming mode, and you can expect to hear from us from time to time with questions. As usual I will be the only one who communicates with you.”

“What if somebody else from Billings calls us?” Nancy asked.

“That will mean that there’s trouble, big trouble,” Duncan said. “To channel all communications with Stargazer through one person, me, is yet another measure of security as you know. It hasn’t changed. So, until you hear from me again, you two can get back to your Scrabble game, or whatever it is you do.” Duncan stifled a laugh as he said that.

“So that means that you and I are free to figure out what to do with our time,” Cranston said after Duncan signed off.

“Gimme a kiss, wiseass. Let’s play Scrabble.”

“CIA Director Carlini is on the secure line for you, Mr. Secretary.”

“Hello, Bill,” I said. “I trust you’re enjoying our summer weather.”

“Very funny, Rick. It’s freezing here in Langley, but at least the snow stopped falling. Meteorologists, for what they’re worth, say that we’re in for a few days of clear but freezing cold weather. I read your top secret briefing this morning about your conversation with Frank Morgan, the head man at the Rosetta Corporation. No sooner had I read it when I got a call from the White House.”

“The White House called me too,” I said. “For once I think they pulled their heads out of their asses and are starting to make some sense. I think the president has kicked some butt to get those jerkoffs to stop playing office games.”

“I agree, Rick, they are beginning to make sense. They’ve stopped listening to the global warming ‘experts,’ especially since your charming wife made mincemeat out of that guy on her show the other day. They’re starting to think what I’m thinking, and I’ll bet you’re thinking the same thing too.”

“Yes, I think that all this shit may not be a natural phenomenon, but may be the result of intentional acts. I’ve checked up on the two astronauts who control the Stargazer . The commander, Nancy Mullin, is one hell of a sharp engineer. She thinks the weather events are linked to Rosetta’s satellite tests. Mullin says that it’s impossible, yet she recognized that it happened.”

“I also hear that she’s in the middle of a global warming style love affair with her fellow crewmember Bill Cranston,” Carlini said.

“You CIA types love to get down to the smallest detail, don’t you?”

“That’s why they call us spooks, Rick. Last week one of them forgot to turn off the video monitor from Montana. Wow, quite a show. They really have fun with the weightless environment. I ordered the tape destroyed. No sense embarrassing people we need to rely on. But to change the subject, I want to know if Jake Arnold, the president’s chief of staff, told you what he told me.”

“Arnold told me the president wants to get deep inside,” I said. “I flat out asked him if he could tell me what ‘inside’ means. All he said was Rosetta. I’m guessing the CIA is already inside.”

“You’re the only one I would say this to, Rick, but yes we are inside—deep inside. We’ve had a few key people there for months, long before this weather crap. Any company that launches 20 satellites with moveable solar panels needs to be watched. So far, nothing. What Morgan the CEO told you, Rick, is pretty much what we’ve come up with. The weather events appear to have been caused by malfunctioning solar panels, and by that I mean a malfunction of the fail-safe system. Our pretty astronaut friend, Nancy Mullin, was the chief designer of the system and she thinks it’s impossible for the system to fail. But she admits that it did fail—big time. So, the White House wants us to get inside more so than we already are, which brings us back to your question—inside where?”

“That’s what spooks are for, no?” I said.

“Yes, and with your permission I’d like to send a visitor your way.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “Buster?”

“The one and only, Mr. Super Spook himself. He’s on assignment on another matter in New Jersey. He can be at your office within an hour.”

I couldn’t have been happier with that phone call. Buster, aka George Atkins, aka Gamal Akhbar, aka a ton of other aliases, is a true spy, and a brilliant one. He’s tall and looks Middle Eastern, an appearance he inherited from his Coptic Christian Egyptian parents. He’s fluent in Arabic and has the brassiest pair of balls imaginable. He’s just the guy we need for this operation, whatever the hell this operation is.

“Sarah, it’s Rick. I want you to come to my office. We’re about to get a visit from our old friend Buster.”

“Mr. Secretary, an Agent Atkins is here to see you. He says that you’re expecting him.” Sally Boynton, my assistant, knows Buster well, but, like the trained agent she is, you’d never know it because she’d never tell you.

Buster walked in, smiling broadly. With a warm, outgoing personality like his, you’d never suspect that he’s a hard-nosed CIA agent.

“Mr. Secretary, Madam Director, a pleasure to see you folks again.”

“You can make it Rick and Sarah, Buster,” I said. “No need for formalities. We all know one another. Bill Carlini tells me you have some ideas to share with us.”

“I do, Rick, and I’m not sure where I’m going with them yet, but I never do at the start of an investigation. As you know, my background is in science and engineering. I’m not the only techie to suspect that the bullshit we’ve been going through isn’t a natural phenomenon. I’ve huddled with some very sharp scientists from NASA and we all concluded the same thing—that human actors are involved. Having said that, not one of us can explain how the solar panels on those satellites can be manipulated to bypass the fail-safe system.”

“With all due respect, my friend,” Sarah Watson said, “you’re telling us that you’ve come to the same conclusion we have.”

“It’s a bit more nuanced than that, Sarah,” Buster said. “Obviously we’re talking about terror, and when we say terror, especially terror of a sophisticated quality, we suspect the Islamic State, ISIS. They haven’t been quiet recently, as the recent attacks tell us. But there’s a big difference between the recent ISIS operations and our current problem. ISIS has begun to launch actions all over the world, but the attacks are similar in one respect: they’re simple. They use cars, trucks, knives, guns, and explosives, and train their sights on soft targets. Any psychopath could pull off the shit they’ve been engaging in lately. I think we’re dealing with something we’ve never seen before, a highly sophisticated attack on something that’s basic to all of us, the weather. If it is ISIS, and I have my doubts, they must be aligned with some people who are a hell of a lot more advanced than they are. To make sure we’re all thinking in the right direction, let me ask you folks who you suspect.”