“Dammit!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hastings doesn’t have to keep quiet.”
“I couldn’t wait.”
“I can see that. That briefing I just received makes me think there’s a high possibility Lavi is behind this. Of course, our spooks down there think your outfit may be a front for Lavi.”
“Well, you certainly know better, Mr. President.”
“Yes, I do. But a black project has to stay invisible, and we just dropped the cloak. By the way, have you ever heard of a William Piper?”
“No, sir. Why?”
“He’s the guy who apparently sent the wrong airplane to Pangia… your airplane.”
“He’s the one working for Mojave Aircraft?”
“So I’m told. I don’t know whether they’re sure of this, but if it is the guy the CIA thinks it is, he’s a former Mossad operative.”
“Oh, dear God! I only just found out from my team on the way here that Lavi’s on board. I… we have no idea how anyone could have known about our aircraft, let alone where it was. I guess it is possible that we could have run afoul of a clandestine operation. One of our key people has gone missing, a lady named Gail Hunt, and she’s the one developing the lock and unlock codes.”
“One of DIA’s men has gone missing as well here in DC, just since this morning.”
“Really?”
“Paul, what do we need to do right this moment to get those people out of danger?”
Paul Wriggle sighed and shook his head. “I honestly can’t think of anything we’re not doing, especially after my call to Hastings. Undoubtedly he’ll try to get that code to his crew.”
The president was up and pacing in front of the large desk.
“What if I order NSA to use everything they’ve got to help get a signal out?”
“That could help. We don’t have much time, but if they could trigger a broadcast on a transponder that we haven’t been using that covers the Med, it could work.”
The President yanked up the phone and ordered the call. When finished, he turned back to Paul Wriggle.
“The Company thinks NSA itself may have been co-opted and at least someone there is working for Lavi. Any chance they could be right?”
“I… have no way of knowing. During normal tests, we send the activation signal…”
“The one that causes the aircraft to lockout the cockpit?”
“Yes. If there was an airborne aircraft with the system operational, we would send that signal to NSA by fiber optics and they broadcast it automatically worldwide. It’s very hard to detect… we built the network carefully. All the pathways and protocols were set up to use without human intervention from their end. Like an open channel we could trigger at will. Someone at NSA probably caught wind of that and knowing nothing about the project, assumed a breach.
The president was nodding. “Somehow DIA was alerted to your signals and got suspicious.”
“Mr. President, whatever signal activated the aircraft systems, it did not come from us. At least, not volitionally.”
“Which brings us right back to the possibility that our Israeli friend could be behind this, which means Moishe Lavi has the upper hand.” The president sighed deeply, his eyes studying the carpet.
“What can I do, Mr. President, considering that hara-kiri is not part of our culture?”
A brief smile flickered across the president’s face. “I wasn’t going to offer you a ceremonial sword, Paul. We’ll piece this together and the future of the program, if any, later. Right now we’ve got to restore control to that crew, or, in worst case, stop Iran from taking the bait.”
“Anyone in Tehran you can reason with?”
“What are you now, auditioning a standup act?” the president said with no intent at humor. “Yes, there are a few sane people with official positions in Tehran, but not when it comes to something like this. We’re talking North Korean paranoia fueled by religious myopia. And… when it comes to staying Israel’s hand… forget it. When they’re huddled in The Hole, they know precisely where the trip wires are, and when one is touched, that’s the ball game for restraint. Think Bebe Netanyahu and his relentless pursuit of Hamas even with the world yelling at him to stand down.”
“Got it.”
“No, everything rides on returning control to those pilots. You built the box. Something unplanned turned on the box. How else can it be turned off?”
“Mr. President, there… might be one other avenue.”
“For God’s sake man, tell me!”
“But it would involve the Israeli Air Force, and telling them far more than we want them to know.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The Kirya, Tel Aviv, Israel (5:45 a.m. local / 0345 Zulu)
The very fact that he’d had to return to the Hole had elevated Prime Minister Gershorn Zamir’s blood pressure, but the evolving seriousness of Tehran’s reaction had sobered virtually everyone in the leadership of Israel.
Gershorn nodded at Lieutenant General Yossi Alon, acknowledging the briefing just completed, the details of which were still ringing in his head: Tehran already putting its forces on alert, constant intelligence stream from the CIA, an urgent request for Mossad to confirm the whereabouts of a William Piper, who was considered to be an operative for Moishe Lavi, and, most importantly, there was the need for the prime minister to make a series of trigger-point decisions on how to intercept, handle, and perhaps terminate the flight of Pangia 10.
And now, suddenly, a call from the president of the United States.
Gershorn excused himself to an ante room to take the call, returning within a few minutes and settling into his chair once more with a cursory explanation.
“Expressions of concern, support, and deep worry that this man Piper may be the engine of Moishe Lavi’s operation… if there is one,” he said, looking around the room once more, locking eyes with everyone looking back at him. “Very well, I accept the general staff’s recommendation. Launch our fighters; intercept and escort the oncoming flight from 200 miles out. Keep the radio channels open to this room, with any order to bring them down coming from me alone. Our pilots must understand this.” He paused before speaking the appropriate code words necessary to take the defensive forces and nuclear armament to pre-launch readiness. With all elements of the civilian chain of command converging on the Hole, any launch decision could be validated and executed within seconds. The scope of the response, if anything left a launching pad in Iran, was essentially his decision, and the mere possibility had roiled his considerable stomach. It felt like Armageddon was upon them.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Aboard Pangia 10 (0345 Zulu)
Jerry had called Dan and Frank out of the electronics bay for a quick strategy conference, fully including Bill Breem, who had been extraordinarily docile. Josh Begich was still sitting in the copilot’s seat looking very young and very frightened, with Tom Wilson, the relief copilot, standing behind him.
Jerry, by contrast, had shed his previous panic and was becoming appropriately analytical and in command, Dan thought. The last PA announcement Jerry had made had bordered on the masterfuclass="underline" calmly and professionally filling the passengers in on precisely what had happened when the aircraft did a complete 360 after scaring everyone to death with the sudden sideslip.
The captain looked at his small team and nodded to Carol to squeeze in as well.
“Okay, guys, I’ve slowed us about as much as I think is safe at this altitude, and that’s bought us some time, but… we’ll be over Tel Aviv in about an hour. We must… we absolutely must… regain control of this ship before then.”