He stood and helped her on with her jacket, kissing the back of her neck. “Goodbye, darling.”
She scrunched her shoulders where the moisture from his kiss tingled. “Goodbye.”
~~~~~
DFW Dallas-Fort Worth International
A lone woman sat in a rental car fiddling with her smart phone. This parking lot was as close as she could get to the airport runways. She wasn’t sure this would work. Maybe she would have to drive over to Love Field or the Executive Airport where she could get closer.
She watched the display on her phone for several minutes. This wasn’t working. The display was so tiny it was crowded with planes. She would be guessing.
Instead she booted up her largest tablet PC computer, acquired the Automatic Dependent Surveillance System- Broadcast(ADS-B) signals and opened up the display full screen. She nodded with satisfaction—much better.
Kabandha had purchased another GPS jammer, one that would plug into her cigarette lighter. This one had an on/off switch. It cost a little more, but that was no problem. Even though you could aim it in one direction, the beam was still quite wide. There was no way, as yet, that she could zero in on just one aircraft. But, this was better than the clumsy one she used before. In fact, she had an assortment of models from different manufacturers. She intended to try them all.
Her first target was a two-engine commuter airliner. No need to go big, just yet. She waited until the plane was on approach, aimed her jammer in its direction and pushed the switch on. She held her breath as the plane glided smoothly onto the correct runway, slowed down and turned onto the taxiway. Hmm, that didn’t work.
Next, she tried working another model on a small business jet. Still no change. Kabandha worked for an hour trying out her system with the different jammers, observing one after another of her target aircraft land safely with no disruption. Either her signal wasn’t going far enough or the planes simply were not operating on GPS. She set the jammer down, leaned back and returned her eyes to idly watching the little icon airplanes on her PC display move about in the prescribed rectangular traffic pattern here over DFW.
Oh, wait a minute, what’s this? Airplanes at the far end of the pattern were not making their right turn properly. They seemed to fly straight passed and beyond the turn, flounder around a bit and circle before rejoining the pattern. Kabandha looked down at her jammer. Where she had dropped it caused it to aim right at that corner of the pattern. She checked the switch and saw she had left it on. She turned the switch off, this time keeping her eyes on the display. Sure enough the planes started behaving normally.
For the next half-hour she experimented with different positions, turning the jammer off and on. Clearly, the planes circling overhead were using GPS, but just as soon as that failed to work properly the pilots switched to VFR and got back on course. This was good to know, but it wasn’t going to cause any collisions or crashes unless the conditions were so foggy that planes would be approaching entirely on instruments. She could wait for a long time before a day was that foggy, a rarity in Dallas. No doubt Chicago would be a better target for fog.
Kabandha turned off all her instruments and prepared to drive back to her room. She would have to give this some thought. She needed a different approach to the problem.
Kabandha knew there were some large commercial airliners that had already advanced into a next generation collision avoidance system which could automatically take over the autopilot in case of an imminent collision. She needed to find out which airliners had that capability and whether any of them flew into DFW. If not, she would move on to a coastal airport like Los Angeles, New York, or Washington DC where hundreds of transatlantic super-liners landed every day. Kabandha smiled to herself dreaming about targeting Airforce One. Wouldn’t that be the coup of the ages, deserving of a place of highest honor in the annals of Islamic history?
Nate -THE SEARCH –
Dorothy May Mercer
Chapter 16 Arlington
Sally relaxed in bed with her novel, expecting a good night’s sleep with no interruptions. After a glass of wine and a warm soak in the tub, she had donned her bunny-fleece pajamas and settled back into her pillows. She sighed deeply and opened her novel. It had been so long that she barely remembered the plot. Fortunately the description, cover and the table of contents gave her some clues. She found her book-mark and started reading the first paragraph. Ah, yes, now she remembered. Here was the handsome cowboy hero about to pick up the phone and call his girlfriend.
Just then Sally’s cell phone chirped. For a second she wasn’t sure if it was her imagination. It chirped again. Darn it. She picked up the phone from her bedside table. This had better not be Edward or someone from Vancouver. The display read “unknown caller.” Fiddlesticks!
“Hello, who’s calling?” she demanded.
“Hello Sally, it’s the Seattle Mariners calling.”
“What the heck are they calling about?”
“You sound like you don’t love us anymore.”
“Oh, okay, you know darn well, I love the Seattle Mariners.”
“Then we agree,” said Brown, “I’ll be brief, sweetie, how about lunch tomorrow?”
“I expect to eat lunch, yes.”
“Good, be downstairs by 11:30, okay?”
“Yup,” Sally agreed, clicked her phone off and set it back on the table, none too softly.
Sighing, she picked up her book and read the same paragraph again.
~~~~~
Lunch with Brownie
“Where are we going?” asked Sally as Harold Brown Jr. turned onto the DC Beltway.
“Headquarters,” he answered.
“What?”
“You’ll see,” he said grinning at her.
Fifteen minutes later, Brown exited onto Pennsylvania Avenue, drove just passed a large plain brown building, seven stories high and turned right twice. He entered an underground ramp, halting at the guard post. Lowering the window he handed the guard the same slim brown leather ID she had seen in Seattle. The armed guard examined it carefully, compared the photo with Harold Brown, checked his roster and handed back the ID wallet. “May I see your ID, Miss?” he inquired. Sally began fishing in her purse.
“She’s with me,” said Brown, as he held out his hand for her ID. Sally gave him her driver’s license, which he passed to the guard who gave her the same inspection routine. Giving it back, he handed Brown a clip board. “Please sign in here,” he said. Brown scribbled his signature and the time, and passed it to Sally. “Sign this, please,” he stated.
As they were waved through, Brown added, “Hang on to that ID, honey, you’ll be needing it. And, by the way, so long as we are dating like this, you may call me Hal, or Hey You, or whatever feels good at the time.” He laughed and expertly steered down a long ramp to the sub-basement where he found a parking spot. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Yes, I am, Hal,” Sally answered, feeling somewhat relieved that Hal seemed to be the genuine article, at least so far. She rather doubted that a terrorist could get inside this building. Well, maybe not. Who knows where there were? They certainly seemed to be everywhere—the Air Force, Army and serving as guards in a variety of venues. She would withhold judgement, just a tiny bit before concluding that Hal was who he said he was.
Hal glanced at his watch. “I think we have time to visit the cafeteria, before our appointment. But, first I want to take just a second and show you the courtyard. It’s really nice.”
He led her passed a crowded Starbucks into an open courtyard, landscaped with flowers and low shrubbery. Walkways meandered through the courtyard where groupings of small tables and chairs were situated under flowering trees. Others were colorful umbrella tables. Employees were gathered around the tables, enjoying their break, with coffee and popped corn from the free kettlecorn dispensers.
“Isn’t this something to see,” asked Hal, “right here in downtown Washington?”
Back inside, they took the elevat
or up to the cafeteria level. It was very nice, but more like a typical cafeteria with all manner of salads, and a center island with a huge variety of hot and cold dishes. To one side was a deli where one could get hamburgers, pizza and sandwiches to order. Another area displayed a vast number of desserts. A large seating area contained different sized tables with seating for one to six people. Booths were along one wall, and another area had stools at a soft drink bar.
Hal and Sally made their selections and carried their trays through open doors to a smaller outdoor covered rooftop patio area.
After they took their places she realized that a lot of fashionably dressed women and others in civilian attire worked here. In fact, looking around she didn’t see a single tough guy. Most were like Hal, middle aged, middle sized, average types, dressed like any other business man.
They ate in silence, enjoying the ambiance of mingled voices, fragrances and bird calls with very little traffic noise penetrating from the outside world.
In fact, sitting there, Sally realized there were no airplanes flying overhead. This was a restricted air space. If any hapless Cessna pilot strayed near the seat of power, a contingent of military jets politely escorted him to a nearby base where he would pay dearly for his transgression—probably a fine and several hours of interrogation before he was sent on his way, older and wiser.
“Well, our appointment is at one. Let’s wrap this up,” Hal suggested.
Sally quickly finished her salad and downed the last of her iced tea. They picked up their trays and placed everything in the designated receptacles. “Over this way,” said Hal and he led her to another corridor where the restrooms were located. “I’ll meet you right here, okay?” asked Hal.
“Sure, fine,” Sally agreed.
An elevator whisked them to the seventh floor, opening to yet another corridor. Hal escorted Sally to the very end where an imposing door said Director Christopher A. Wray. “We’ll just duck in here for a brief minute. He’s a busy guy.” He knocked lightly and opened the door. A man looked up from the reception desk. Hal showed their IDs. “We’re here to see the director for a moment.”
“I’ll let him know you are here. Please sign in, both of you.” He indicated a clip board on the corner of his desk as he turned to buzz the director. “Special Agent Harold Brown, Jr. and Miss Sally Millecan to see you, sir.” To Hal and Sally he said, “Please have a seat.”
Hal took Sally’s hand and led her over to a seating arrangement where they sat down. “Is this really the director’s office?” Sally whispered. “I don’t believe this.”
“Hello, Hal,” came a jovial voice, as footsteps sounded.
Hal immediately stood. “Director Wray,” he took the extended hand.
“Oh come now, Hal. It’s still Chris to you,” said a slim man, with brown hair and blue eyes, a square jaw and crooked smile.
“Director Wray… I mean Chris… I’d like to present Miss Sally Millecan.”
“Well, hello there, Sally,” he said.
“Director Wray,” said Sally in awe.
“How nice of you to bring Miss Millecan here to meet me, Hal.”
“Thank you, sir. We just stopped in for a minute. Sally and I are on our way over to the Counter-Terrorism Division.”
“Excellent, Hal. Good luck with that. You are doing a great job. We appreciate your work. You, too, Sally.”
“Thank you, Chris,” said Hal.
“Thank you, Director Wray,” said Sally.
Hal took her hand and they turned to leave.
Moving down the hall, Hal leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Are you convinced yet?”
Sally blushed.
“Come with me, honey, there’s one more person I want you to meet,” he said.
“I don’t suppose you could give me a clue,” she retorted.
“Sure, I can. This person is really my boss, or maybe my boss’s boss.”
“Didn’t I just meet your boss’s boss?”
“Naw, that was my boss’s boss’s boss.”
“Oh my! You are way down the line, aren’t you?”
“Not so. Just ask anyone and they’ll tell you that those bosses are just here to serve us.”
“Umm, yeah, sure.”
“Here we are,” Hal paused in front of another door, National Security Branch. Executive Assistant Director, Caroline Douglas. With one finger he underlined the last line.
“A woman?” Sally asked.
Hal grinned. “Forty years ago there were no women agents. Now look. They’ve taken over.”
“Well, good for her.”
“Yup. Let’s go in.” Hal opened the door. There was another reception desk and another man greeting them. Sally was getting the hang of it. She walked up to the desk and offered her ID, picked up the pen and signed in.
“Thank you, Miss Millecan,” said the man.
“We’re here to see Ms. Douglas,” said Hal.
“Yes sir, she’s expecting you. Go right in.”
“This way,” said Hal, taking her hand. They walked down a wide corridor flanked on either side with offices, until they reached a large office suite with another reception desk. “She’s on the phone with the director. It will be a few minutes. Can I get you something?” asked the assistant.
“Nothing for me, thank you,” said Sally.
“No thanks,” said Hal. “We’ll wait right over here.” He motioned for Sally to sit. It was only slightly smaller and less plush than the director’s waiting area.
They waited. Sally tried not to fidget with her hands, but it was almost impossible, she was so nervous wondering if they were going to arrest her at any moment, for something—anything—she had no idea what. Did they need a reason?
It seemed like forever, but eventually Ms. Douglas came out of her room and greeted them with hand extended. “Hello Sally, I’m so happy you are here. And Hal, where did you find this brilliant woman?”
Hal made the introductions, “Executive Assistant Director Douglas, may I present Miss Sally Millecan, Flight Attendant with Alaska Airlines and Virgin America Airlines. Sally, meet the head of the FBI’s counter-terrorism division, my boss’s boss.”
“How do you do, Director Douglas,” said Sally formally. She wiped her sweaty palm before she took the director’s offered hand.
“Nonsense, please call me Carrie. I’m delighted to have you here, my dear. Please come in. I’ll get you a drink.”
“No thank you, I’m good,” said Sally.
“Not at all, I insist. We’ll have a drink. What time is it anyway, Hal?”
“Um, I think it’s five o’clock somewhere,” Hal hesitated.
“Good, now Hal, you just sit right there, while I serve,” said Douglas. She bent over, opening a little refrigerator. “We have rum and coke, lite beer, tomato juice and flavored water.”
“Water will be fine, thank you, Director Douglas,” said Sally, still standing.
“No, Sally, it’s Carrie. Get it? Care…eee.”
“Carrie,” said Sally, trying to smile.
“Very good,” Caroline enthused. “You’re going to fit right in.”
“Fit in?” asked Sally in some bewilderment.
Caroline gazed solemnly at Hal, “You haven’t told her?”
Hal shook his head, looking guilty.
“In that case, mister, all you get is the water. Sally and I will split a beer.” She took one beer and poured a little into two pretty glasses. Handing one to Sally, she said, “Let’s drink to a world without men. What do you say?”
Finally Sally could laugh, “Hear, hear,” she said, taking the exquisite crystal stemware in her hand. Two glasses clinked delicately and were tipped for a sip. In turn, four eyes scowled at Hal. “All right, what didn’t he tell me?” inquired Sally.
“Forget him,” said Caroline, as she pulled Sally aside. “Sit over here with me. Bring your beer.” She filled their glasses.
“All right, here’s the scoop,” she began. “It’s very simple.
We want you to work for us.”
Sally gasped and looked at first one, then the other. “What!”
“Whatever they are paying you, we’ll pay you double.”
“Huh?” Suddenly Sally needed the beer.
“Don’t worry, you can keep their salary, too.” Caroline picked up the bottle and topped off Sally’s glass.
Sally just stared at them, open-mouthed.
Caroline scowled at Hal again. “You should have told her, Brownie. The poor girl is in shock.” She chuckled.
~~~~~
DC Snooper
Outside Andrews Air Force base, Kabandha tried working her little system. Fighter jets and large cargo airplanes came and went. She could see them on her display, but none of them seemed to be affected by her jammer. For a couple of hours she tried various configurations.
Giving up in frustration, she started up the rental car. She had driven all the way from Dallas, not wanting to leave traces of her movements. The little jammer came in handy for that purpose. She kept it on, so that Avis couldn’t track her car. No telling what receivers she was jamming in the process. Kabandha shrugged that off as collateral damage. Stuff happens.
Kabandha had to turn off her jammer for a few minutes so she could use her onboard GPS to find her way to Dulles International Airport. Perhaps it might be a more accessible target. Dulles was huge with multiple runways and parking lots. She drove around the labyrinth of roads several times before she figured it out.
By now she was hungry and had a full bladder. She chose a parking lot that was not too crowded and moved off into a corner to take care of her bodily functions and needs. With a full belly, having driven many hours without sleep, Kabandha was ready for a nap. But, this mission was too important to waste time sleeping. Kabandha took a pep pill out of her bag and swallowed it with a sip of an energy drink.
She fought to stay awake until the caffeine kicked in. She needed enough time to make this one last test. If it didn’t work she would have to come up with another system. Her eyelids fluttered as her mind wandered off, thinking ahead to the possible use of a software defined radio, sleepily conjuring up a sequence of false commands that could be inputted into a superliner’s collision avoidance system. There were any number of ways she could envision ruining a pilot’s day. Perhaps a bevy of false airplanes could suddenly show up on the instrument panel display. Kabandha chuckled to herself. The poor pilot wouldn’t know which one to avoid. Or, she could have the onboard warning voice rapidly shout, “Pull up, descend, pull up, descend,” over and over.
Nate Page 17
