Suddenly Kabandha woke up, chiding herself when she realized she had been dreaming. Then again, maybe it wasn’t just a dream. Could it be the ancestors were sending her a message? Hmm, software defined radio, that might work. Only problem is that the radio would have to be onboard the plane. This would be a suicide mission for the operator. Not that that would be too much to pay, but there weren’t enough skilled technicians in their ranks. Could we afford to lose one? Certainly not me, she thought. Okay, let’s get back to business, here.
Kabandha shook her head to clear it and swallowed some more of her energy drink. She went about setting up her first test, booting up her laptop, activating the display and aiming her jammer at the closest area of the holding pattern. She was in luck. Airplanes were circling almost directly overhead, each at a separate altitude, stacked up waiting for the cleared-to-land order. Kabandha had to back the car and move it around a bit so that she would have a clear shot with her jammer. This was perfect. She aimed her jammer at the sky and turned it on.
Eyes glued to her display, fingers crossed, she held her breath. A few seconds passed and then the first plane missed its turn, and then the second and a third. Eureka! Success!
Hastily, Kabandha switched off the jammer, lest she arouse suspicion. Elated, she would wait until all these planes had recovered and landed safely before she dared try the system again.
She waited a full hour, and then tried it again on only two airplanes this time, waited again and tried it on just one airplane. Each time it worked flawlessly. Kabandha now knew she had invented the perfect terrorism tool. Thank you, Allah. It was cheap, simple and teachable. She could train a hundred brothers to operate as a team, at multiple airports at once. By simultaneously operating cheap drones, laser beams and GPS jammers, they could send an unsuspecting airliner directly into a drone equipped with explosives. Multiple accidents all over the country would overwhelm systems and send the country into chaos. Perhaps some brothers or sisters would be lost. It mattered not. Those few minions would be expendable for the cause. In the meantime, higher powers would be at work, taking advantage of the chaos to launch even more deadly attacks.
Kabandha packed up her things and drove away. She would allow herself to sleep, at last. Tomorrow she would visit headquarters, report her findings, and receive the well-earned plaudits of the leaders.
~~~~~
Men Work from Sun to Sun
Feeling relaxed and rested, Nate stretched and opened one eye to check the clock. 5:00 AM. And then he remembered: Oh yeah, I have to catch a flight at seven. He rolled over on his side and peeked at Nan, wondering if there was any chance she might be awake. If so, he had time for a “quickie” before he had to leave. Watching the bedclothes covering her gently rise and fall, he concluded she was either fast asleep or doing a good job of play possum. Oh well, he sighed and eased out of bed. He loved her enough to let her rest.
Today’s flight was a long one in three segments. He would fly from here to the hub airport, and then catch a long flight to Montreal, continuing to Washington DC. It was unusual to fly into Canada where he had no jurisdiction. But cooperation between the two countries was complete and long-standing. Nate had never had any problems, in that regard. Terrorists knew no boundaries and so all flights had to be covered.
Tonight he would bed down in DC and tomorrow he would check in with his boss at FAMS, the Federal Air Marshal Service. FAMS was a part of the TSA—Transportation Security Administration—which was just one little part of that huge conglomerate, the Department of Homeland Security (DHS). Mind you, even that was under the FBI. No, wait a minute, FBI was under the Justice Department. How on earth they kept track of each other was a mystery to Nate. Sometimes he wondered whether they knew he existed. Do you suppose that if he died, the paychecks would keep coming? He chuckled at the thought.
~~~~~
They Quarrel
“I’m sorry, Sally,” Hal pleaded. “I know it was unfair. But …”
“No buts,” Sally interrupted. “How could you?” she stormed.
“I’m sorry, really I am. I had no right. But, please hear me out.”
They were seated outside the FBI building in Hal’s car.
“Look Mr. Br—whoever you are—we shouldn’t even be talking here and you know it.” Her voice was on the edge of hysteria.
“You want to go back inside?”
“Are you kidding me? Back inside that den of thieves?”
“I get it, you don’t want to go back,” said Hal sadly.
“You got one thing right.”
“Well, maybe the best thing is just to drive.”
“How do I know you aren’t wearing a wire or running some kind of secret recording device?”
“Um, I guess you don’t.”
Sally was silent. She dug a handful of tissues out of her purse, started dabbing her eyes and staring out the window.
“Well, what are you going to do?” Hal asked hesitantly. He hated it when women cried.
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” She threw up her hands and cried in earnest.
“Uh, don’t cry, Sally,” he said completely at a loss. “Uh, maybe … maybe you just have to trust me.”
Sally looked at him in astonishment, “Trust you?” She bawled in earnest.
I guess I said the wrong thing, thought Hal.
“Well, okay, I-I’ll just drive you home,” he said, disconsolately, and started the car.
Pulling up in front of her apartment building, Hal put the car in “Park” with the engine running.
He laid his arm over the back of her seat and looked earnestly into her face. “Sally, I’m sorry, but I think we need to talk. Can I come in? Please.”
Sally gave him her best disgusted look, picked up her handbag, threw the strap over her shoulder, open her door and flounced out with a determined stride and her chin in the air.
Hal called after her, “I’ll text you in the morning.”
~~~~~
Trapped
Tucked into her bed, Sally thought it through. It was clear. They had her. The FBI didn’t have to spell it out. She was working for terrorists. Either she cooperated with the FBI or they would make sure she was ruined. Her reputation, her clearance, her job—all gone, at the very least. At the worst, prison for treason. Oh my God! They want me to be a spy, a double agent. She cried some more.
Hal was one of them! And she was starting to like him—a low-down liar! Oh my God! She cried harder, feeling like a bird in a trap. Oh how she wished she had a dad she could call for help, or a mother who would listen to her, or could listen to her. She was alone, an orphan. She didn’t have friends, really, just people she saw at work and customers of the airlines. Look where that got her. Oh my God, she moaned.
Well, that’s absolutely right, God is all I have. Sally got out of bed and down on her knees with tears on her face and hands clasped heavenward on the bed. “Father in Heaven,” she began, “I need you, now. You know my troubles and you know everyone’s hearts. I pray that you will guide and direct me into the right path and the right decision, and that you will protect me.” She waited. A feeling of peace settled around her like a warm blanket. “Thank you, God, Amen,” she finished, arose from her knees and got back into bed. Within minutes she was asleep.
Nate -THE SEARCH –
Dorothy May Mercer
Chapter 17 As Fate Would Have It
Kabandha
S he woke early too excited to sleep. Today would be a triumphant day for her. Kabandha would be going downtown to meet the leaders for the first time in her life. After her presentation she expected to be the toast of the entire organization.
Kabandha had always known she was gifted. By the time she was eight years old, she could out-think her siblings and had mastered two languages. In her early teens she often taught her parents, who were hard-working, wholesome simple believers, but uneducated. She became the bookkeeper for the family and often the spokesperson. Throughout her school ye
ars she advanced quickly and soon learned she was smarter than her teachers. Having none other with whom to compare, she learned that she was also the smartest person in her small home town in rural Minnesota. She kept this knowledge to herself, not realizing what it meant until she attended the nearby junior college and continued to ace all her courses, which was later confirmed when she graduated from the university summa-cum-laude. It wasn’t until she reached graduate school that she had competition and began to meet people who were intellectual equals. What a relief it was to discover she was not alone in the world! It was there that Kabandha was introduced to her life’s work, ji-had, a cause larger than herself, worthy of her talents—her mission.
~~~~~
Nate
It was morning in DC. Nate had slept well. He wasn’t scheduled downtown until mid-morning, and so he took his time rousting about. He never got used to the changing time zones, different each night. He shuffled into the bathroom and started the small coffee-maker. While it perked he used the urinal. Studying his face in the mirror he noticed a few more gray hairs on the sides—too many to count. Didn’t they say it made a man look distinguished? He ran the palm of his hand over his five o’clock shadow. Should he shave it off clean in honor of his visit with the boss today? Naw, why bother? He felt more comfortable this way. Nan told him it looked sexy. Should he call her? No, she would still be asleep.
Propped up in bed, with his first cup of morning brew, Nate opened his email account and sent her a good morning message. “Good morning, darling. In DC this morning. Should be a nice day. Nothing much happening. Anything you want me to pick up in the big city? Love you lots, Nate”
~~~~~
Edward
Edward fought for a place at the table and a decent share of the food. With six siblings crowded around it was always first-come-first-served, and the food vanished in a hurry. He was the second oldest in the family and expected to earn his keep. Most of his salary went to support the family. The firstborn son, George, had left home and was somewhere in Chicago, working hard at a job, so far as Edward knew. George never sent any money home. In fact, Edward resented that his mother frequently sent some of his hard-earned money to George. She was secretive about that, but he knew. There was never enough, what with his father driving a cab and his mother doing odd jobs for rich Americans. That was why Edward had taken this job with the lobbying firm. It was a steady paycheck and a worthy cause, so far as he knew. He was careful not to ask questions. Today he would report for work at the usual time.
~~~~~
Sally
Sally Millecan opened one eye. Where was she? Immediately she recognized her own bedroom in Arlington. Feeling safe, she closed the eye and pulled up the covers for another forty winks. In a few minutes her mind started to work. Thinking back on yesterday’s events, she smiled slightly when she thought of Caroline Douglas, a brilliant and wildly successful woman, heading an organization of thousands of employees, and much to be admired. Sally realized, now that the whole scene, yesterday, was Carrie’s ingenious attempt to put her at ease. It worked. This was someone she could work with and work for. Sally doubted that very many employees of Homeland Security referred to Ms. Douglas as Carrie. Sally almost laughed aloud.
Sally remembered her crying jag of yesterday. Yes, it was true, she was caught in a situation. She would have to forgive Hal, and accept his lifeline, so far as that went. Crying helped, but so did prayer. Sally lifted up another prayer, asking for protection. She was ready to face the day and the unknown, trusting no one else but God to pull her through.
~~~~~
Hal
Not much he could do about yesterday but go with the flow. He regretted it had been necessary to deceive Sally. She would never have agreed to serve as a double agent voluntarily. She was sucked into the vortex. Too bad he had to do what he had to do, because he was beginning to like her. Normally he preferred petite blond women who were short and sweet. Sally could almost look him in the eye when she wore heels. And he wasn’t really sure what color hair she had, some kind of medium brown. Those brown eyes, though, oh my, he was hypnotized by her eyes. He was more than half-way serious when he kidded her about dating.
Well, enough of this kind of thinking. He had to get going and face the music. Maybe Sally would have mellowed by this morning.
Hal grabbed his phone and texted her a message. “Will pick you up at eight. Be ready.”
~~~~~
Caroline
The FBI never really slept. This building was online 24/7. Caroline Douglas, head of the FBI’s huge National Security Branch, was in early dealing with a multitude of items that came in overnight. “Set up a meeting for eight o’clock,” she instructed John, her personal executive assistant. “I want to see Shapiro, Bell and Mason and whomever they can grab to bring along.” These men were heads of FBI’s counter-terrorism, the Transportation Security Administration (TSA) and the Federal Air Marshal Service (FAMS), respectively. “You need to sit-in on the meeting, too, John.”
Later they gathered around a table in the conference room.
“I believe we are nearing the time when we can close in on this terrorism cell operating out of DC,” Douglas began. “We’ve had a breakthrough, I think.”
“And that would be?” asked Mason, head of the Federal Air Marshals.
“You tell him,” said Douglas to Shipiro, head of the FBI’s counter-terrorism unit.
“We have had rumors that they have made attempts to place spies in the airplane industry, and so we have personnel working on that angle. Special Agent Harold Brown Jr. has his degree in software science, and so we assigned him to the task of… well… working for one of the largest suppliers to airplane manufacturing companies, acting as bait. It was a long shot, but we hoped they would approach him and so he made himself available in various ways. Brown is one of our best. Last week he lucked out and they hired him to infiltrate and sabotage the software design area as their agent.”
“How on earth could he do that?” John was incredulous thinking of the redundancy in every airplane part and the multiple inspections that must be passed.
“Well, I don’t understand this myself,” said Shapiro, “but apparently they think that tiny malicious fake lines of code could be added into the millions of lines of code that will control the new traffic control guidance system that is due to come on line in the next decade. These spy codes, we call them, would look like normal code and would be buried in the system awaiting activation years later.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Neither do I,” answered Shapiro, “but I’m sure TSA is in charge of the development. Bell could explain it better than I can. Apparently there will be a collision avoidance system installed in every airplane that will take over in case of a close call. Is that right, Bell?”
“Keep going,” said Bell, “I’m interested in learning what you know.”
“Um, well,” Shapiro continued, “I’m out of my depth here, but one thing the spy code could do when activated is misdirect two airplanes so they would crash, instead of avoiding each other.”
“And you’ve got this Harold somebody who can actually write this code?” asked Bell, clearly doubting it.
“Not necessarily. But, we are pretty sure he can fake it. Remember the terrorists have their experts, too, and they would be helping. Really, we are excited that Brown has provided us with one of the missing links we needed, a link to the central terrorist organization.”
“What organization? Who are they?” asked Bell, head of the TSA—Transportation Security Administration’s airport security unit.
“It’s a pseudo-lobbying firm we’ve had our eye on for some time,” answered the FBI’s man.
“Oh, yeah?” asked Bell. “Al Qaeda?”
“We don’t know that. It could be just a domestic group. But, of course, they’re all linked together by the same ideology—ji-had,” said FBI’s Shapiro. “We think that their goal is to cause wide-scale disruption by bri
nging down domestic airliners using high tech means.”
TSA’s Bell drew himself up and added, importantly, “We all know, of course, airport security has completely thwarted any efforts to get a bomb on board,” he couldn’t resist bragging a bit, tooting his own horn.
“Right, Bell,” said Caroline Douglas, “So far, so good. But, you can never relax. You must stay ahead of them,” she added, bringing him up short. “We’re all in this together.”
“Exactly,” Bell agreed, having been chastised by the boss.
“And this missing link, who is it?” asked John who had said very little, so far.
“The very woman you met yesterday, John, the nice-looking young woman who came in with Hal Brown,” Douglas answered.
“Didn’t I see her crying when they left?” asked John.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Douglas. “She was pretty shaken up.”
“What did you do to her?” accused Mason, the senior member of the group and only one who dared ask that question. Mason had been the head of the Federal Air Marshal service for more years than anyone could count.
Nate Page 18
