Lockout

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

The White House (1:00 a.m. EST / 0500 Zulu)

“Will? I’m in!”

“What? To the Internet?”

“Yes! And I’m cueing up that transponder again. I think I know how to get through the firewall.”

The sound of the door opening filled the room as the same Secret Service agent who had ushered them in returned, his face an unreadable mask.

“Come with me please.”

Jenny looked up at him, startled.

“I need a minute.”

“No, ma’am. Close the computer.”

“But I…”

“Now, ma’am.”

Only a few seconds’ hesitation was needed to study the man’s face and know it wasn’t a request. Jenny carefully lowered the lid and gathered up the power supply as she fell in behind Will, who was already moving out of the door.

“We were about to give up on you,” Will said, trying not to sound too disparaging but equally aware that the man leading them was impervious.

Another agent picked up the lead and escorted them through several hallways and into an ornate conference room Jenny recognized from pictures as the Cabinet Room.

General Paul Wriggle knew he was grasping at straws, so the sudden appearance of someone claiming to have codes relating to Flight 10 was deserving of an immediate response.

Introductions were short and urgent, and Paul looked at both IDs, fixing Will Bronson with a steady gaze to make a quick assessment of his response.

“Are your leaders looking for you, Bronson?”

“Yes, sir. Everywhere, I’m sure. I think I’ve stumbled onto an illicit operation, which is why I sought out Jenny, here, and why I refused to come in.”

“An illicit operation? By Defense Intelligence?”

“Yes, sir. It will take some explaining.”

“I would think. Your boss is downstairs right now in the Sit Room and, fortunately, the duty officer didn’t inform him you were here before informing the president.”

“I don’t want to talk to him, sir, until I talk to you, or the president.”

“No time for that. Who has the codes?”

“I do, I think,” Jenny replied, filling him in as quickly and succinctly as possible on reversing the sequence, using a version of a code she wrote.

“Do either of you have any idea what’s going on with that aircraft, other than the pilots are locked out?”

“No, sir,” Jenny answered. “We just know something turned on a… I guess, circuit or device aboard that plane that won’t let the pilots control it, and I think the sequence I have… which is just eight numbers representing a reverse algorithm… will undo it. I’m just guessing, of course.”

“Is there an Israeli operation behind this?”

Will and Jenny exchanged startled glances, before Will replied.

“I… honestly don’t know, sir. I just know DIA, and I think some faction of NSA is involved. It could be an Israeli op.”

The door opened, and the president himself came in.

“Paul?”

“Meet our missing DIA man, Will Bronson, and his NSA compatriot, Jenny Reynolds. Apparently he’s not William Piper. Face is completely different.”

The president nodded at both of them as he turned to Paul.

“Your assessment, Paul?”

“Neither of these people has any idea about the basics of how this happened, therefore there can be no realistic chance that the code she’s offering is meant to sabotage a disconnect. I vote we use it as fast as possible.”

The president was nodding. “You’re my final authority. Okay. Do it. Jenny is it?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“Give General Wriggle the code. He’ll make the calls from here. Then… stay here. Both of you. It may be a few hours but we’ll want to debrief.”

“Okay.” She slid a folded piece of paper across the highly polished table she’d seen in countless presidential photographs, and the general opened it and studied the contents.

“This is it?”

“As best I can figure. Do you want me to tell you why I think so? The code that apparently caused the original lockout…”

The general had his hand up to stop her. “Won’t be necessary. I read 62993178.”

“Yes, sir.”

Paul Wriggle turned to one of the deskset phones and pulled the receiver to his ear as he dialed. Colonel Dana Baumgartner answered immediately.

“Paul here, Dana. Any word from Denver since I spoke to the doctor?”

“No, sir. She’s slowly coming around. She did confirm what we already know that the numbers we got from her desk safe were not the codes.”

“Dana, I’m going to read you a set of numbers. The question is this: If this is the code that the unit would take if it received the appropriate satellite broadcast, would it also work if typed in or sent by UHF relay?”

“No need, Paul. The code is the same regardless of how it’s delivered. Of course the MDCU entry method takes more preparation, but they’re in essence all the same, a string of numbers.”

“All I needed to know.”

With an ashen-faced Will Bronson and Jenny Reynolds watching, Paul Wriggle checked his watch, catching their eyes as he punched up the White House operator.

“Connect me again with the Israeli Air Force Command Post in Tel Aviv. This is an emergency.”

“How long do they have, General?” Will asked.

Paul Wriggle put his hand over the mouthpiece and turned to him as he glanced at the wall clock.

“Ten minutes, if that.”