The Wreck Emerged
JOSEPH V. WEBERS
MYRTLEWOOD PRESS
Published by: Myrtlewood Press, PO Box 978, Murfreesboro, TN 37133
First printing, August 2021
Copyright © 2021 by Joseph V. Webers
Matt’s Wedding Song copyright © Joseph V. Webers, May 2020, used by permission.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-7371764-2-8 (paperback), 978-1-7371764-5-9 (ebook)
Printed in the United States of America
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the publisher. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.
PUBLISHER’S NOTES
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and IP addresses either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher. Any resemblance in this work to actual FBI, CIA, or other government agency operation, source, or method is entirely coincidental and is purely the product of the author’s imagination.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Cover design: Dissect Designs
Author photograph: Carolyn Webster
https://josephvwebers.com
To all who have taken the journey with Maggie, may you find a life of peace, joy, and supernatural fulfillment.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to Caterina Novelliere and the rest of the Williamsburg Writers for their valuable help with the storyline and editing, to Paula Williamson for her wonderful insights into all sorts of things, to Dr. Carolyn M. Webster for her help with obstetrics questions and Dave Hamrick for his help with aviation questions, and to George Karahalios for his excellent advice and encouragement in getting this book published. I’d like to recognize all my associates in the US Marine Corps who demonstrated the embodiment of their warrior ethos. A special thanks to John Allison who kept me from going off the deep end. K.C. Lin did a wonderful job helping me set up the score for Matt’s Wedding Song.
GLOSSARY OF ACRONYMS, ABBREVIATIONS, AND OTHER TERMINOLOGY
6-3030mm machine gun used on MiG aircraft, short for GSh-6-30
53KMH-53K, US Marine Corps heavy lift helicopter
A-10US Air Force fighter plane
ABINAgência Brasileira de Inteligência (Brazilian Intelligence Agency)
ANCAirport code for Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport
ATCAir Traffic Control
AW, AWAAir World Airlines
BABritannia Airlines
C-130US military fixed-wing cargo plane
CGUS Coast Guard
DHSUS Department of Homeland Security
DTGDate-Time Group
EODExplosive Ordnance Disposal
EPAUS Environmental Protection Agency
F-18US Air Force fighter-bomber plane
FISFederation of Indian Scientists
gahAn incomplete word starting with a “g”, caused by a break in radio transmission
GAU-830mm machine gun used in an Air Force A-10
GSMGood Ship Myrtlewood
IAFIndian Air Force
IBCInternational Bread Consortium
JATOJet Assist Take-Off
JFKAirport code for John F Kennedy International Airport, New York City
JLTVJoint Light Tactical Vehicle (US Marine Corps)
K103Designator for a decommissioned oil platform in the Gulf of Mexico
LAXAirport code for Los Angeles International Airport
LHRAirport code for London Heathrow Airport
MH-53KMilitary designation of Marine Corps heavy-lift helicopter “King Stallion”
MI-5UK Security Service
MI-6UK Secret Intelligence Service
MiGRussian fighter aircraft designed by Mikoyan and Gurevich
MREMeal, Ready-to-Eat
MSPAirport code for Minneapolis Saint Paul International Airport
NCONoncommissioned Officer
NOAAUS National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration
ORDAirport code for O’Hare International Airport, Chicago
P wavePrimary (or pressure) compression wave (earthquake detection)
psiPounds per square inch
RogerYes, or, I understand
S waveSecondary (or shear) transverse wave (earthquake detection)
SDSSand and Dust Storm
STRATCOMStrategic Command (US Department of Defense)
T-1Local code name for Top Secret-capable phone line
USAFUS Air Force
UTCCoordinated Universal Time
VTCVideo Teleconference
WMDWeapons of Mass Destruction
Z, ZuluGreenwich Mean Time or Coordinated Universal Time (four hours ahead of Eastern Daylight Time)
THE WRECK EMERGED
1
He saw her the moment he stopped. The aisle in front of him was blocked; the line going back to economy had stopped at 18D as passengers were stowing luggage in overhead bins. Her shoulder-length brown hair swept across her face and hid her eyes, which were, at the moment, turned down toward a wiggling pink bundle on her lap. She cooed softly, seemingly oblivious to the passengers trudging past her.
He stared, as if remembering something from the distant past. No identity came to mind, but it seemed to him he should know her, even though he had seen only a small part of her face. The line backed up briefly, then surged forward a step. She was now a row and a half in front of him.
She looked up and their eyes locked briefly. No, he had no idea who she was, but she looked like someone he had seen before, perhaps on the silver screen? Her face was rather plain, but he found her soft features, clear complexion, and scarcity of makeup attractive. However, her identity was still elusive. Her expression turned from one of idle looking-around to a puzzled pensiveness, and her eyebrows puckered almost imperceptibly, but he noticed.
She followed his eyes as he turned to the bundle and smiled. A deep, satisfied smile; the pink blanket brought back a flood of memories. He looked at her again, but she was looking down, and, subconsciously perhaps, moving the blanket back to give him a better look. She was dressed in jeans, as he was, and wore a dark blue long-sleeve tee shirt with a light-colored open front vest embroidered with dark flowers. A preppy look, he thought. Early thirties, maybe, the same age Rachel would have been. He stifled a tear and looked away.
He felt a slight jab in his back and glanced up. Realizing the line was moving, he readjusted his grip on his leather carry-on and exited the business class rows toward his seat in 21E.
Seat 21D, the seat on the aisle he had come down, was unoccupied and he settled his six-foot, two-hundred-pound frame into the seat beside it. He was in his early sixties, although most people would have guessed late forties or early fifties. He was glad he was somewhat fit; the walking habit he had acquired over the last several months meant he wasn’t as squished as he would have been during his sedentary working years. Power-walking, they had said. Power-distracting, he had countered.
Although the business class cabin was already completely occupied, he could tell he was one of the first ones on. There had been plenty of room in the overhead bin, and 21H, the seat next to his, was still empty. Maybe this
flight from Chicago to London would be sparsely filled and he could stretch out across all three seats.
A moment later, his hopes were dashed as an elderly man and woman, wearing identical brand-new Virgin Islands sweatshirts, flopped down into 21H and, in the row across the other aisle, 21K, still arguing about which grandson was cuter when he was two. Everything had gone into the overhead except Field and Stream and Good Housekeeping. He could tell by the wrappers that they had just come from the magazine shop next to their exit gate. Following immediately after were the two grandsons in question, looking to be in their early teens. They took the seats on either side of their grandmother, while their grandfather stayed in 21H.
The flight attendant, Adela, strolled by, checking seats. The exit door was due to close in a few minutes. He was hoping 21D would stay empty, so he stopped her and asked. “Perhaps,” she said.
She consulted her list again. It was a list of all the empty seats, based on who had already checked in. “They haven’t checked in yet. This is supposed to be a completely full flight. In fact, there are eight people not checked in yet, and interestingly enough, they are registered from several different cities in Russia. I can’t show you the list, though. However, the seats are scattered all throughout economy. I just think it’s a little odd. But maybe they all were coming together and got delayed. I hope they get here soon. We can’t wait for them.”
A minute later, the welcome announcement was issued from the cockpit in both English and French and he settled back to wait for takeoff. The Virgin Islanders had made up and were settling in as well.
But the plane didn’t move. There were thuds and noises from the baggage compartment below his feet, and he presumed that they were removing the baggage of the missing passengers. A moment’s silence, then more activity underneath. Adela came by to let him know that 21D would be vacant for the duration of the flight. “We got their baggage just about out,” she said, “when the ground crew found out they had taken an earlier flight. Their baggage didn’t make it on that flight, so they reloaded it back onto this flight.”
The look on his face told Adela he had a question, which she attempted to answer. “They were traveling together from Los Angeles. Their flight was delayed and they had a close connection, so to be on the safe side, they got booked on this flight in case they were late for their scheduled flight.”
“Yes, I figured that, but I would have thought your computer systems would have caught that and taken care of those notifications?”
Adela realized she was giving too much information, so she simply said, “I don’t know. But we’re about to depart, and I have to finish my preps.”
As her skirt twirled around and swished down the aisle, all the individual screens, commandeered by the on-board master, began showing how to buckle your safety belt, and what to do if you come down in the water.
2
In the cockpit, Captain Chuck Merkel and First Officer Joel Barth were puzzled by the baggage glitch. Joel was the first to offer a possibility. “I saw this once before, where the lists weren’t updated and it turned out it had something to do with foreign passports. But that was several years ago, and I thought they had fixed that.”
“Yes, I remember that, too. It was also an overseas flight, to Israel that time. And yes, they did fix it. It’s odd these are all Russians.” He consulted a different list. “Even odder—two originated in MSP, four from LAX, and the other two from ANC. That’s three identical glitches!”
“Three separate flights into ORD?”
“No, it looks like the Anchorage flight connected at Minneapolis, so just two arriving flights, from Los Angeles and Minneapolis. Maybe just two glitches.”
“I have a friend here in Chicago,” the first officer said, “who might be interested and might be able to shed some light on this. We were in the Air Force and flew on numerous missions together. He was in intelligence and I flew the plane. We became close friends. Sometimes I got the impression he was just wearing the Air Force uniform but was really part of some three-letter outfit. He would never talk about it. However, we retired together and he was wearing the uniform then.”
“Okay, Joel, go for it.” Chuck was busy preparing the big jumbo-jet, a Boeing 787-9 Dreamliner, for being backed out of the gate by the mule. The flight safety messages had ended and control of the individual screens was now dutifully returned to the passengers. Joel quickly encrypted an email to his Chicago contact and resumed his checklist items.
“Chuck, I’ve flown this route several times before, and this doesn’t seem like the normal flight route. Did you notice that? It seems rather odd to me.”
“Yes, we are flying somewhat southeast instead of the normal route. You’ll notice the beacon list has us flying just north of Philly and just south of JFK, before we head out over the ocean. Our normal route was compromised. When they rerouted us, they wanted us south of the New York-to-London corridor, as that will be quite saturated this morning until about 1900 Zulu.”
“What did you mean, the normal route was compromised? Are there weather issues? I imagine we could simply fly above the weather.” He pulled up the weather report. “Besides, the weather looks fine.”
“Not weather. Human activities. Did you read the security summary?”
“No, not yet.”
“You always need to read those. Look on page three.”
Joel looked on page three, and read, “ ‘Aircraft lasing activity reported in Lewisporte, Newfoundland. Several different locations. Green lasers.’ Then it goes on to list the flights impacted. Wow, one flight at thirty thousand feet. Looks like they’re purposely targeting the aircraft.”
“It appears they are located at different spots on the island, not just Lewisporte. They can’t pinpoint the locations. I got an update just before I came on board. Until they can get a handle on this rogue lasing, they are keeping us out of the area.”
“They can’t lase us.”
The captain glanced over at his first officer. “Oh?”
“We’re in the cockpit on the top side of the aircraft.”
“Yes, if they were directly below us. You can see the ground in front of us, right? So the ground can see us. Besides, we have two hundred eighty-five, correction, two hundred seventy-seven passengers, and it would scare the living daylights out of anyone seeing bright green flashes coming through their windows.”
“Plus an infant.”
“Anyway, we’ll be flying over the North American Basin, the mid-Atlantic Ridge, the West European Basin, then on into Heathrow. We would probably be safe with the see-and-avoid rules, but for the little extra time it would take us, normal traffic doesn’t have to watch out for us. And we will have plenty of fuel.”
Joel did a quick calculation. “That will take us about five hundred miles out of our way. With all the built-in time allowances, we’ll get into London about on time. Do we need to let the passengers know?”
“No, they don’t know the original flight route, and the map they can follow on their consoles is vague enough they won’t see any differences. Besides, the rerouting takes us right into the middle of the jet stream, so that will increase our speed a good deal.”
3
At the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration observatory base K103 at a remote location in the Gulf of Mexico, an alarm had wakened Jacob Strauss and alerted him to an abnormal seismic event. Checking the seismogram trace, he had found the P and S sound waves from the event each lasted less than four seconds, and their time separation put the distance to the epicenter at twenty-five hundred miles away, plus or minus fifty miles. It was the amplitude of the trace which had him puzzled, however.
In his training for this gig, he had never seen such a strong signal. The pens had reached their physical limits and bounced back before settling back to zero. It was not likely to have been an earthquake; if it had, the leading and trailing sound waves would have lasted for several minutes. No earthquake meant no tsunami, so Jacob had gone back to
bed.
K103 was an early oil platform which had reached the end of its useful life, one of over six hundred decommissioned drilling platforms slated for demolition. One federal government organization had used the Sustainable Fisheries Act to gain control of the platform to be a monitoring station. It was being used by NOAA, EPA, and two other government organizations for storm and weather, current, tsunami, seismic, water conditions, and petroleum leakage monitoring. As well as other things nobody talked about.
Most of the NOAA monitoring sites were unmanned; Jacob was there primarily for training and equipment troubleshooting, and secondarily for monitoring. The main purpose for the monitoring was to answer the question, will there be a tsunami and if so, where?
After breakfast, his morning workout, and completing reports on yesterday’s activities, Jacob turned his attention to the seismograph output. The device itself was functioning properly, and his query to the station watch on duty at two o’clock that morning revealed the platform had not been bumped or otherwise experienced anything that might be the source of the vibrations.
Intrigued, he logged into the NOAA library of worldwide seismograph recordings. The library was relatively new, but recordings had been added, so far, all the way back to the mid-sixties. Jacob downloaded the digitized trace from the seismograph and fed it into the library’s search engine. About twenty minutes later, the search ended, producing five exact matches. He noted that the early morning event had not yet been added.
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