The President's Plane Is Missing

by Robert J Serling

  “No sir. I was going to stay anyway and I can handle any announcement. I’ll contact you, naturally, before I give anything out.”

  “That’ll be fine, Newt,” the Vice President said gratefully. Nice boy, Spellman. Maybe Oscar could have some other good job around the White House. Corris’ perhaps. Newt certainly knew his way around and he was most obliging. “Oh, before you go out, Newt, would you put those classified reports on that chair away where they’ll be safe? I’ll get to them tomorrow.”

  Spellman dutifully took the material out of the way. Madigan felt slightly guilty but he rationalized that he was too tired to read classified documents, even that important-sounding one on China’s current intentions. He’d have to get to that one first. But he was tired, and now it was time to go home to Hester. The anticipation of telling her about his first few hours in the White House shucked his weariness like husk stripped from an ear of corn. Tomorrow should be quite a day. Maybe the biggest day of his life.

  Hester wanted to go with him to the White House Thursday morning but for once Madigan’s nuptial spine stiffened sufficiently to say no to his wife. He realized that Hester wandering around the Executive Mansion might smack of poor taste. And anyway, he didn’t want her to sense what he had to admit to himself, that the White House still awed him. It would have even if he had been a full-fledged President and his oath of office already recorded for posterity. In his present status, he felt more like an interloper.

  He had the good sense to tell his chauffeur to drop him at the Executive Wing, adjoining the main structure, instead of the normal entrance on the North Portico. Newton Spellman was waiting for him by the White House police captain’s desk just inside and to the left of the big reception hall. It was 7 A.M., but already a horde of reporters and cameramen were jammed around the huge circular table on which were deposited hats and a few topcoats.

  “Good morning, Mr. President,” Spellman said respectfully but not without a taint of sadness. “Good morning, Mr. President,” was the rather subdued mimicry of most of the press corps. Madigan came close to preening but decided to be modest and democratic.

  “Good morning, Newt. Morning, boys. I guess ‘Mr. Acting President would be a bit too awkward so how about making it ‘Mr. Vice President’ for the time, uh, until we hear something from Winslow. Any questions before I get to work?”

  The reporters were pleased at the prospect of an informal press conference, so soon after the formal news conference of last evening when Madigan announced he was assuming office temporarily under authority provided by the Constitution.

  “Any late word from Arizona, Mr. Vice President?” one reporter asked.

  “Nothing, I’m sorry to say. You’ll be advised the minute we hear of a single development.” They should know what he knew, he thought with the smug satisfaction of a man newly entrusted with a secret.

  “There is one thing I haven’t had a chance to brief you on, sir,” said Spellman, this time neatly walking a tightrope between the presumably correct but distasteful “Mr. President” and the lesser designation. “I’ve already told the press they’ve now identified the bodies of the other two Secret Servicemen, both stewards and one of the two security guards.”

  “That leaves just two unidentified,” Madigan said. “One guard and the President.”

  “Plus the flight crew,” Spellman prompted.

  “Oh yes, the pilots and so forth. Well, as I told you last night, General Coston believes some of these may never be positively identified. The important thing is to find the President, of course. I must re-emphasize what I said last night to you fellows, there was a parachute on the plane and we still have hopes that somehow the President might have used it and is safe.”

  “Wandering around some Arizona desert?” another newsman postulated.

  “There’s a lot of room for wandering,” Madigan agreed, “but we have the Air Force’s assurance that virtually every foot of that state is being searched. Now I think you’d better let me get to work. Gentlemen, good morning for now and I hope you’ll join me in continuing to pray for the President’s safety.”

  He hoped he had sounded and acted like a man with his hands firmly on the tiller. He was angry at himself for being nervous. Maybe, when he could drop this damned “Acting” stuff, he’d be more at ease. Right now he had a strange reluctance to act decisively. Constitutional authority or not, he still was in a weird kind of limbo, armed with the trappings of a President and even legalistic power, yet without the magic wand of that oath of office so solemnly sworn on the Bible.

  The call he was most anxiously waiting for came through shortly before 10 A.M. Mrs. Hahn, primly proper and in Madigan’s somewhat jittery state a bit standoffish, politely advised him, “General Coston is on the line.”

  Coston’s message was brief, rimmed perceptibly with concern, and just another downward push on Madigan’s yo-yo of self-confidence. “Mr. Vice President, I’ve just finished talking to General Dunbar in Winslow.”

  “Proceed,” Madigan said in what he trusted was a sufficiently commanding voice.

  “Dunbar says they’ve identified the second of the security guards and the body of the radio officer, Captain Warneke. Identification will be impossible for the rest of the flight deck crew, as far as burial is concerned. Their bodies are in bits and pieces—there isn’t anything left to identify.”

  “But the President,” Madigan demanded. “How about the President?”

  “Sir, there’s no sign of the President’s body.”

  “Maybe,” Madigan suggested almost in desperation, “he was riding up front, in the cockpit. Then his body would have been in as bad shape as the pilots’.”

  “Not very likely, sir. We know Air Force One was heading toward some bad weather. Henderson would have sent the President back to his own quarters. He wouldn’t have wanted him in a jump seat. Besides, it’s already been in the papers that the President intended to stay in his stateroom the entire flight. Sabath was quoted to that effect.”

  Madigan sighed unhappily, aware that he still was imprisoned by the sentence of uncertainty imposed from the minute the plane was reported missing. “Well, thank you, General. I suppose—”

  “One more thing, sir. We’re sure Mr. Haines didn’t jump. We found what was left of an unopened parachute near where our mystery person was located.”

  Only at this moment did Fred Madigan realize that he had been clinging subconsciously to that parachute as a last refuge, a final hiding place before he had to step into the new world of responsibility he both wanted and feared. But it had been a false refuge, no hiding place at all. What had been merely uncertainty was now bewilderment. Even the emotional strain of waiting for Haines’s body to be discovered and identified was a simple, easily acceptable interlude compared to what Madigan now faced. And what the entire nation and world faced.

  “General,” he said with one more effort at clinging to fading logic, “that body must have been Haines. It had to be. The FBI must have made a mistake.”

  “No, sir. There was no mistake. They’ve checked those fingerprints exactly seven times. Also the teeth. Plus another bit of evidence, sir, which hasn’t been given to anyone yet. The pathology men working with the FBI say the body was that of a man somewhat shorter than the President. They aren’t absolutely sure, but they’re willing to bet on it.”

  “So now where are we?” It was more of a plea than a question.

  “I don’t know, sir. I’m completely baffled. We’ve got one damned good possibility and it leads to a thousand question marks. The President may not have been on Air Force One.”

  “Then,” Frederick James Madigan breathed, “where is he?”

  The 11 A.M. news conference called by Madigan that same day fell somewhat short of General Coston’s thousand question marks, but not by much.

  It was an ordeal for the Vice President who, after all, did not know any more than the men and women doing the asking. At Newton Spellman’s suggestion, he was fla
nked by the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the head of the Central Intelligence Agency. Their presence gave him a certain amount of moral support although they felt as helpless as he before the reportorial barrage.

  Madigan began by reading a prepared statement (Spellman’s composition). The statement alone would have sent half the room sprinting for telephones except that the news conference was being televised. The wire services were monitoring it on TV sets in their own offices, moving a running account on their teletype circuits without waiting for the press conference to end. Television literally had reduced some reporters, especially the wire service men, to the status of mere actors at major news conferences. They were there to ask questions, not handle the story.

  The prepared statement was brief; Madigan read it in a low voice with obvious nervousness.

  “The Air Force has advised me there is a possibility that the President was not on board Air Force One when it crashed in Arizona. All efforts to locate his body have failed, although these efforts are continuing. In the meantime, personnel from the FBI and the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology have identified the bodies of six of the seven passengers known to have been on the aircraft, plus five of the nine crew members. The crew members whose bodies have not been identified include the commander of Air Force One, Colonel Henderson; Major Foster, the copilot; flight engineer Falk and navigator Eldridge.”

  He was interrupted at this point by a volley of attempted questions and a forest of raised hands. “Just a minute,” Madigan said with a show of impatience and anger, “let me finish reading this. I told you at the start there would be no questions until I’ve read this statement.”

  He cleared his throat and resumed in a stronger voice.

  “The body of a seventh passenger was found in an area indicating that this person was riding in the rear of the aircraft when it crashed. However, repeated attempts to identify this body have been fruitless. Its fingerprints and dental charts do not correspond with those of President Haines. The Air Force is at a loss to explain the presence of this unknown person on the aircraft. This presence is the source of the tentative belief that the President may not have been aboard.”

  Madigan paused as if he were expecting renewed clamor from the reporters. There was none. Instead, there was a foglike stillness. The Vice President again cleared his throat and continued.

  “The remains of a parachute, located under the berth in the President’s private stateroom, were found in an unopened condition. This precludes the possibility that the President might have evacuated the aircraft when it encountered the still undetermined difficulty which resulted in a fatal crash.”

  Now Madigan’s voice rose, gaining confidence from the very drama of the moment.

  “I have asked the director of the FBI, assisted by the Central Intelligence Agency, to conduct a full investigation into all aspects of this mysterious situation. This investigation will include such possibilities as an impostor, sabotage, kidnaping or a combination of said possibilities. The Air Force will continue to investigate, on a separate basis, the cause of the accident itself. In that latter area, the Air Force will be assisted by personnel from the Department of Transportion’s Bureau of Safety with the added co-operation of all federal agencies as required.”

  Madigan paused again. He had reached the part of the prepared statement which Parrish had insisted be included and it was the part Frederick Madigan relished the most. His voice was boulder-firm, and he read the words with the slow emphasis of a drumbeat.

  “As the Acting President of the United States, I want to assure our friends throughout the free world, as well as the potential enemies of that free world, that I intend to continue the policies of our beloved President. Those policies are aimed at resisting aggression and preserving freedom. We, and I speak for all agencies of the federal government, intend to solve the tragedy that occurred in Arizona, and the apparent disappearance of our President, with dispatch and thoroughness. The American people should feel concern, but not panic. Sorrow, but not hopelessness.

  “I ask my fellow citizens to reserve judgment, quell suspicion and refrain from hasty appraisals while this unfortunate matter is being investigated. If whatever fate has befallen President Haines is proved to be the result of an international espionage plot, the United States will take appropriate action. Until we determine that fate, however, it is imperative that all Americans display patience, firmness and unbounded confidence in our investigative agencies.

  “This,” added the Vice President, “concludes my prepared statement. I will now entertain questions.”

  (From the official transcript of the press conference, as recorded by the Capital Stenographic Service)

  Q. “Mr. Vice President, is there the remotest chance President Haines might have staged a disappearance himself, for some unknown motive?”

  A. “No. Not without letting his closest associates know about it. Including myself. It is unthinkable. For that matter, what possible motive could he have had.”

  Q. “Has the Air Force’s investigation of the crash revealed any sign of sabotage which might be connected with that body?”

  A. “None whatsoever. General Coston has told me that all the available evidence to date points to a breakup in severe turbulence. The possibility of sabotage will be considered as part of the investigation, but there’s nothing as of now to indicate that the plane was blown up.”

  Q. “Mr. Vice President, this business of an impostor. A great many persons saw the President board Air Force One the night of the crash. Would you care to comment, sir, on how an impostor could have gotten on the plane? Or arranged such a deception? And for what reason?”

  A. “I don’t have the slightest idea. The still and motion pictures taken of Air Force One’s departure show seven passengers boarding, and one of them was Jeremy Haines—or his exact double. To carry out such a fantastic deception would have involved many persons who certainly would have come forth by now and disclosed the truth.”

  Q. “But those persons who might have recognized a double from close up can’t come forth now. They were on the plane. They’re dead.”

  A. “General Coston has advised me that all persons who had close contact with the President before boarding have been questioned. They are positive it was Jeremy Haines who deplaned from the helicopter and boarded Air Force One. These included the pilots of the helicopter and the Army sergeant acting as a security guard on the helicopter.”

  Q. “Mr. Vice President, could the plane have stopped anywhere en route to Palm Springs and picked up this extra passenger?”

  A. “According to General Coston, this would have been an impossibility. The plane was seen on radar screens up until the time of the crash.”

  Q. “Could there have been a stowaway, sir?”

  A. “Again, the Air Force has assured me nobody could have gotten on the plane without being detected.”

  Q. “Mr. Vice President, you said the investigation would include the possibility of a kidnaping. Have you or anyone else received any kind of a ransom note— either from somebody here in the United States or from abroad? Any inkling of who might have perpetrated a kidnaping?”

  A. “I said kidnaping was only a possibility, one of many things to be checked out. We have no evidence at all that a kidnaping actually took place. No ransom notes or anything like that.”

  Q. “Has Senator Haines been able to provide any clues as to the disappearance of his brother?”

  A. “If you can find Senator Haines, I wish you’d ask him. He’s somewhere fishing in the middle of Maine. We have the Maine State Police and forest rangers trying to locate him, but so far to no avail. He could be at any one of a hundred lakes. He did not tell his office specifically where he was going. All we know is that he left for Boston the night of the crash. Anyway, I doubt if he’ll be able to throw much light on the matter.”

  Q. “Mr. Vice President, is there any reason to suspect the Red Chinese or Russians for what has happene
d?”

  A. “We have no reason to believe this. Naturally, until the entire mystery is solved, some kind of espionage plot will be one area of suspicion. Just one more thing to be investigated.”

  Q. “Mr. Vice President, if this turns out to be a Commie plot, what would the United States do?”

  A. “Whatever is necessary.”

  Q. “Whatever is necessary for what, sir?”

  A. “Well, that depends on what happened to the President. If he’s alive and being held in some kind of international blackmail scheme, we’d do whatever had to be done to get him back safely.”

  Q. “Suppose, sir, Red Chinese agents had somehow kidnaped Mr. Haines. Would the United States accede to any ransom demands?”

  A. “That depends on the demands.”

  Q. “Well, suppose the demands were as farfetched and drastic as trading the President’s safety for pulling our troops out of Far Eastern bases, for example? Or even disarmament?”

  A. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I might comment at this point that my answers have to be hypothetical because your questions are based on hypothetical, uh, situations. I must emphasize again that we’re as much in the dark as you are. I could stand up here all day and speculate but it wouldn’t do anybody much good. I’ll answer one more question and then I’d like to end this press conference. You over there, with the maroon tie.”

  Q. “Mr. Vice President, how long do you anticipate your status as Acting President will last? I mean, if Mr. Haines remains missing for a long time, would you be sworn into office?”

  A. “Your question is very premature. I have every hope that our President will be found alive and well and that all elements of this tragedy eventually will be explained. Until that time I shall continue to carry out his policies and act as I think he would want me to act. To the best of my ability.”

  The senior White House correspondent of UPI said, “Thank you, Mr. Vice President,” and the horde of newsmen broke for telephones and offices. A reporter from Time, leaving at a more leisurely pace, remarked to a representative of the London Daily Mail: