John Barnes - Directive 51

Satellite and air reconnaissance revealed no trace of the big white plane on the ground or in the air anywhere near Jayapura. The “Air Force Two Possible Area” now extended nearly from pole to pole, and along the equator from the 135 West meridian (about two-thirds of the way from the mainland to Hawaii) all the way to the 55 East meridian (just short of Madagascar and running north through the Persian Gulf and Iran).

A light touch on her shoulder made her look up at Cameron. “I just wanted to say,” he said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Big mess, eh?”

“Just wanted to say hi to a friendly face before I got into this.”

“Best of luck,” she said, “and I mean that.” At the FBI, she’d been the closest thing he’d had to a friend; that had always made her feel sorry for him.

President Roger Pendano entered, flanked by DoDDUSP Mark Garren. Both men looked tired, shocked, and old. “Here we go,” Cam said, and hurried to the rostrum by the big screen.

“By now you are all aware of the basic situation, but more bad news, just confirmed, will update your timelines on your screens in a couple of minutes. Here it is in brief:

“About forty-five minutes ago, three bodies fell into a large town square in Nakhon Ratchasima, Thailand, apparently dropped from a large unmarked white plane, with twin engines, which was flying low over the town—no positive identification, so far, by anyone we can trust to definitely identify a 787. Local air traffic control confirms that they had a big plane that didn’t answer any radio hail and continued on its way to the northwest.

“The American Embassy has claimed the bodies for an autopsy, but they fell more than a mile and landed on pavement. A Navy doctor from the Franklin Roosevelt is still on her way to do the positive identification. Tentatively, we believe them to be Carol Tattinger, the State Department liaison for Vice President Samuelson’s mission; Martin Reeve, the Defense liaison; and William DeGrante, the Homeland Security liaison. A great circle route from Jayapura through Nakhon Ratchasima extends along a line that skirts the Burma-China border, and then across the very northern edge of India—which is to say one that more or less walks the line between Indian and Chinese airspace. Those are the two competent air forces in that region, and they don’t get along with each other, so if that is Air Force Two, the hijackers may be hoping to be able to dodge across the border if either side tries to intercept.

“That great circle line would take the plane up into wild country in Central Asia, where various Islamist warlords and criminal gangs hold actual power.

“We’ve lofted minis—short-term satellites—using the Raptor augmented system, out of Germany, and Global Hawks have already taken off from Bagram, so if it stays in the air, we should be able to find that white plane within the hour. India has been completely cooperative—they’ve offered us landing rights as needed and some of their own planes are out searching even as we speak. When you ask China for help, of course, you never know what the answer is going to be until they give it.”

That caused State and Defense reps to interrupt and argue; Heather had time to access the spreadsheets that had generated the graphics on the main board.

Cameron was going on. “—well be a diversion or a part of some larger plan, or there may be something we are not seeing. This is not a usual sort of—”

That’s it. Heather typed the numbers in frantically, saw the result, scrolled back, found what she wanted, and highlighted it. She tagged it Inconsistent data / possible ruseand hit SEND.

Cam was saying, “So if there are no more questions—wait. Ms. O’Grainne?”

Heather said, “Based on flight time since Air Force Two left Jayapura, and the time the bodies fell in Thailand, that great circle arc is only about half as long as it should be. On that course at cruising speed, they ought to actually be in the ’Stans by now. And why throw three bodies from a plane over a city, let alone fly low over inhabited areas, when you could have gotten rid of the bodies for literally hours over the sea, or just left them behind in the first place? Especially when their best hope of success has to be in going undetected?

“Look at the consul’s report. They towed a Lion Airways plane into the hangar early that night; I just Goo-22ed photos of Lion Airways planes. They’re mostly white already, and they fly some 737s, which is a twin-engine airliner even if it’s an old one. You’d just need a few hours to repaint the tail and the markings and refuel, then drop bodies somewhere very public. They couldn’t make the timing come out right, and someone who knew something might recognize it was an old 737 and not a new 787, but they probably thought it was worth gambling that we wouldn’t be thinking clearly because we’d be too angry about what they did to our people.”

Cameron froze, which was a good sign; his first instinct, when things didn’t make sense, was always to stop moving until they did.

“It still might have been Air Force Two; those things could be explained,” Mark Garren, the DoDDUSP, pointed out. “Why would they run a whole second operation just as a ruse?”

“Mr. Plekhanov of NSA has a comment,” Cameron said.

Lenny’s good hand trembled as he adjusted his headset. “ Timing . There must be something we could do that would make a difference if we don’t waste any time. So the target is only partly the Vice President, since they already have him. They’re going to do something with him and that 787, and they want us to dither before we act. Meanwhile, Air Force Two is going somewhere to deliver the main blow. Look at the edge of the possible area.”

On the big board, slowly, just barely visibly, the curve of the places Air Force Two could have gotten to continued to widen.

“Not Hawaii. Not Australia or anywhere in Asia,” Cameron Nguyen-Peters said softly. “They’d have hit them hours ago if it was a target there. Anchorage just came within reach, Juneau will soon—Marshall, can you do us a geometric, focus on the next areas to become vulnerable in say the next two hours—show us when each part of the West Coast comes in range?”

“Already working on it, sir, coming up—” a voice said over the speakers.

The screen popped and adjusted, revealing a severely distorted map of the west coast of North America. The familiar coastline had been bent and twisted till it looked like claws reaching into the Pacific. “Nearest targets south of Alaska,” Marshall said, his voice calm and dispassionate over the speakers, “on the great circle routes. First the area around Coos Bay, then Puget Sound, and then gradually down to south California, with a lot of hops and skips because the coast bows out a long way toward New Guinea around the California-Oregon line, and again down by LA.”

Garren drew a breath. “Mr. President, I recommend you activate Forward Sentry West.”

Pendano looked like he was going to throw up, but he turned to the quiet little man carrying the case beside him, and said, “Hand me the football. I certify that I am sane and there is a National Defense Emergency.”

“Authentication: Nineteen,” Garren said, and the football-carrier stepped forward and handed the little black case to the President.

Pendano opened it, placed his hand flat on a reader plate, brought a microphone to his mouth, and said, “Authenticate.”

“Authenticated,” the football said.

“Authorize Forward Sentry West. Not a drill. Mu Nu Brave Walker. Repeat not a drill. Mu Nu Brave Walker. Verify.”

“Authorize Forward Sentry West,” the football said. “Authorization begins in one minute unless intervention—”