Dane stood. “When do we leave?”
Deep in the bowels of the National Security Agency, Patricia Conners reread the incoming sat-mail on her computer. The authorization code was correct, but still it bothered her; both the tasking request and the order to destroy any hard copy and computer back-up of the images she had had the KH-12 do over Cambodia. On top of the strange discoloration on the original Cambodia imagery and the nagging suspicion something was wrong with MILSTARS 16, it was turning into one hell of tour of duty for her.
Conners printed out a copy of the request and walked out of her office down the hallway to her supervisor, the head of remote imaging, George Konrad. The door was open and Conners entered, sliding the paper onto Konrad's desk, while settling down in the chair across from her boss.
Konrad put his reading glasses on and read the tasking, then glanced over the top of the rims at her. “And?”
“Who or what is Foreman?” she asked.
“Why do you want to know?” Konrad asked.
“Because he's ordering me to break standard operating procedure by destroying the computer back-up.”
Konrad shrugged. “Do it. This order has the proper authorization to do that. You know it's been done before.”
That was not the response she had expected. “What about the tasking?”
“What about it?”
“He's asking us to burn a lot of fuel and energy,” Conners replied.
Konrad gave her an indulgent smile. “That's not the real reason the tasking bothers you.”
Conners sighed. He always saw through her. “All right. How about I don't like using Bright Eye on an operational tasking? I thought it was just a test-bed? And how the hell does this Foreman guy know about Bright Eye?”
Konrad picked up the fax and looked at it once more. “Well, I suppose he knows about Bright Eye because he has the highest security clearance possible; higher than you or I.”
“Clearance isn't the issue,” Conners argued. “Need to know is.” She pointed at the paper. “Earlier today this guy tasked me for a large-scale view of north-central Cambodia using a KH-12. That was a waste of time and resources and he wants me to get rid of all record of it. Now he wants Bright Eye to look at the same area.”
Konrad leaned back in his seat. “'Tasked me'?” he repeated.
Conners flushed. “All right. Tasked us.”
“You take everything too personally,” Konrad said. “You can't do that working for the government.”
“So you keep telling me.”
“What was on the KH-12 shots that make him want to use Bright Eye?”
Conners had been expecting that question. She pulled the three images out of a file folder and gave them to her boss.
Konrad looked at them. He slumped back in his chair as he slowly went through the images one by one. Finally he put them down. “You aren't supposed to have these.”
“You wouldn't have asked for them if you didn't tacitly accept and know that I download all my imagery,” Conners said.
Konrad pointed at the discoloration. “Well?”
“I have no idea what caused that,” Conners said. “I've run through diagnostics on the KH-12 and my own system and it all checks out.” She didn't add her suspicions about MILSTARS 16. One thing at a time, she thought, and also, that satellite was the Pentagon's worry, not the NSA's.
Konrad shrugged. “Well, looking at these I know why Foreman wants to use Bright Eye. If anything can punch through whatever that is, Bright Eye can.”
“Getting back to the problem of using Bright Eye for an operational mission,” Conners prodded.
“It's not a problem,” Konrad returned. “You don't think we spent eight hundred million dollars just to put a prototype up there, run a few tests and then let it float in space, do you?” He shoved the tasking back toward her. “Get Bright Eye moving.”
Conners stood. She took the paper but didn't move. “Do you have any idea what caused the interference on those shots?”
A flicker passed across Konrad's face. “I have no idea.”
Conners frowned. “Have you ever seen anything like that before?”
Konrad glanced past her at the open door. He looked troubled.
“George?” Conners pressed. “You've seen this interference before, haven't you?”
“Yes,” he said in a low voice.
Conners turned and swung shut the door without being asked. She walked over to his desk and leaned forward. “Where?”
Konrad laughed nervously. “You're gonna think I'm nuts.”
“Where?”
“Off the East Coast. South of Bermuda, on a line running down to Puerto Rico and across to Key West, then back up to Bermuda.”
Conners mentally processed that, then blinked. “The Bermuda Triangle?”
“I told you-” Konrad began but she cut him off.
“I believe you. When did you see this?”
“We pick it up every once in a while when we do a standard weather scan for NAOA. A haze blocking out all imaging covering a triangular shaped area. The size varies from nonexistent to a maximum of the triangle I delineated. We never forward it.” He pointed at the paper in her hands. “By orders of Foreman.”
“When?” Conners wanted to know.
Konrad laughed. “Hell, I don't know. Every so often. The interference doesn't last long, maybe a couple of hours every few years. We can always get good shots on either side time-wise so no one's really noticed. Been happening ever since I've been here.”
Conners blinked. Konrad had been at NSA imaging for over twenty-five years. “You mean Foreman's order on that has been in effect that entire time?”
“You're getting the picture,” Konrad said, “no pun intended.”
“But what's causing it?” Conners asked.
“I don't know,” Konrad said, “and since Foreman wants to use Bright Eye, I would say he doesn't either yet, but he damn well wants to find out.”
“Bright Eye has been up over a year,” Conners said. “Why now?”
Konrad merely shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Do you have any idea who Foreman is?”
Konrad lifted his hands toward the ceiling in a helpless gesture. “Jesus, Pat. You know how much this government spends every year on classified projects? You know how compartmentalized all those projects are? We get taskings all the time from various code-named organizations without a clue to their purpose. Foreman is just another one. All I know is he's CIA.”
“Who just happens to be interested in the Bermuda Triangle,” Conners said. “And a similar triangle in Cambodia.” She was thinking now. “Any place else?” She waited. “George?”
“He’s requested other shots over the years. I’ve seen something like what you have there on imagery taken off the coast of Japan.”
“The coast of Japan?” Conners considered that. “Where else?”
“Other places.” Konrad pointed to the door. “I suggest you get moving on that request. I've already said too much.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Taking stock of the situation had only served to increase the fear and gloom inside the Lady Gayle. Ariana had gathered the six surviving members of the crew around Ingram's console after further securing the door to the cockpit by pushing a table and several spare chairs up against it. There's been no more noise or activity outside the plane as far as they could tell, but being blind to the outside world deepened the anxiety inside.
Ariana had explained, as best she could, what had happened to the crew and Craight. To forestall further inquiry into things she couldn't explain, she'd had everyone do an inventory of the supplies inside the cabin.
There was some food in the galley, enough for perhaps a week if eaten sparingly. Water was more critical. They had enough for about four days if rationed. There were two fire axes. They had three first aid kits, one of which had been opened already to treat Hudson's legs. There were two pistols, Berretta 9mm’s. She took one, and gave the other to Mark Ingram.