The Planner

Chapter Five: Eagle

Feeling refreshed, the next morning Planner was in the hotel breakfast room, reading about the latest analysis on the US-China incident in the newspaper, when a familiar businesswoman popped into view at a 45 degree angle.

“Smithy!?”

Planner lowered his newspaper. “Why”, Planner spluttered, “Ms Smith!”

Katherine pulled a face in response and silently mouthed her name with a nod.

“It’s good to see you. What a surprise. What are you doing here?” enthused Planner.

“I stay here three nights a week,” said Katherine with a smile. “My office is just there.” She points out to the World Trade Centre Plaza.

Planner cannot conceal his shock. “You work there! In the towers?”

“Ninety Fifth floor. North tower,” she said hunching her shoulders. “Good job I’ve a head for heights as well as figures. So what brings you here?”

“Well, I’m in WTC7,” said Planner biting his lip.

“Hey,” said Katherine, in surprise. “That’s where the Security and Exchange Commission is?!”

“I know that now. I didn’t know that yesterday,” laughed Planner.

They both chuckled.

“You never see what’s staring you straight in the face!” observed Katherine

“Too true,” agreed Planner. Quickly looking around, Planner asked, “So have you had breakfast? Do you want to join me?”

“Well…” smiled Katherine, a fake smile, crinkling her nose.

“You have to go?” Planner said.

“I’m actually running late. I’ve got an early morning meeting. About you-know-what,” Katherine said merrily but taking a step backwards.

“The Jerks?” asked Planner standing up.

“Right. They have playing musical chairs at the top of the organization. We’re trying to work out what they are doing. So… sorry, um. Nice to see you again. Perhaps another time?”

“Well… are you around… like this evening? For drinks, perhaps?”

“Maybe tricky. Blame the Jerks and the games people play. But here’s my card. As long as my cell phone battery isn’t flat, I’ll take your call. Or if you have a card then I’ll call you?”

Planner made a poor impression of searching his suit for a business card, “I don’t seem to have any cards on me at the moment. I’ll call at seven”.

Katherine wobbled her hand uncertainly and she walked away backwards.

“Ok. Every half hour after seven,” suggested Planner.

Katherine waved, turned and hurried away.

* * * *

Planner walked across the windy World Trade Center Plaza towards the shimmering skyscraper at the north end, WTC7. While it would have been the tallest building in most cities, the tallest building in 30 US states, in New York it was only the 28th tallest and standing next to the Twin Towers, was positively dwarfed by its huge neighbours. With its glossy, brown facade WTC looked business-like but completely unobtrusive. Planner noticed, probably for the first time, a list of organisations within the building on an unobtrusive board. It announced that the “Security Exchange Commission” was located there. Of course, the Department of Defense and CIA were not mentioned. Planner wondered how often Katherine had meetings inside WTC7.

Once inside the building, to reach his office, Planner needed to navigate an escalator, elevator, stairs, the security tube and also multiple swipe-card controlled doors. He unloaded his hefty laptop computer, hooked it up and was soon lost in the in-tray of work provided by email; Even covert operations have plenty of paperwork.

Bates knocked on the door. “We have ten minutes before the meeting with Operation Eagle. They’re just down the corridor,” said Bates. And then as an afterthought added, “They’ve moved from Washington last week. They are not happy.”

“So obviously not military?” said Planner amused.

“No. Lawyers. Legal Eagles,” he said with a nod.

Planner groaned at another awful code name. Planner saved the file and pressed the CTRL-ALT-DELETE keys, the three fingered salute to secure the computer from casual prying eyes.

“I was thinking, Bates,” said Planner while he secured the documents on his desk, “Can you get me some business cards?”

“Sure. I’ll get Turq onto it,” said Bates.

“Spare Turq, I’m sure someone more junior can do it,” said Planner mindful of the stress he had already caused her. “I need them to give out to Muggles.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to mix with the non-magical?” said Bates with amusement. “So what title do you want? Chief Wizard, perhaps?”

“Cute. Chief… Planner,” Planner said as they walked out the office. “For an aerospace company. Make it TSAC. I know some people there that might be useful. The name should read Robert Smith.”

“Smith. Original. Ok,” said Bates sarcastically.

“I like to keep it simple,” said Planner.

As they walked down the corridor, Planner said, “Perhaps I should have a color name. Everyone here has a color code name except you and me.”

“We were running short of snappy code names so I volunteered an alternative. Bates is a nickname I had when I was young, so I’m comfortable with it. I didn’t want Puce. I toyed with Wheat, which were a couple of the rejects. You could have a color code name if you want,” said Bates, as they stood outside a featureless door.

“I wonder which ones have already been used?” asked Planner.

That’s easy!” Bates recalled from memory, very fast, “Amber, Auburn, Beige, Blue, Burgundy, Charcoal, Chestnut, Copper, Crimson, Cyan, Green, Indigo, Ivory, Lavender, Lemon, Lilac, Lime, Magenta, Mahogany, Maroon, Mint, Ochre, Olive, Orange, Pearl, Pink, Purple, Ruby, Scarlet, Sienna, Silver, Tangerine, Taupe, Teal, Turquoise, of course, Vanilla, Vermilion, Violet and Yellow. Black, Brown, Gold and Gray were already used in Operation Eagle. They started before us. Hey, we don’t have a White. How about that?”

“That was some magic! You have some sort of photographic memory going on there?”

“Eidetic, yes,” said Bates. “It saves on the note taking. It’s liked by the agency, of course; I get some plum jobs because of it.”

“Like this one? Not what I call plum,” said Planner.

“It pays well,” said Bates with a lop-sided smile. Bates knocked on the door.

“Did you mention Plum on your list?” asked Planner.

“No. Not used. It could have been a rejected color name,” sighed Bates. “Either that or I’m slipping. So do you want to change the name on the business card?”

“No, has to be Smith. I like White as a code name though: the sum of all colors. Basic Physics.”

“Phah. Physics! Such trickery will never be useful in Hogwarts,” mocked Bates as the door opened.

* * * *

Planner and Bates were introduced to two lawyers who called themselves Mr Black and Mr Brown. They both looked in their late sixties, gray haired, creased and wrinkly skin. They both wore immaculate charcoal suits and ties, matching color to their names, with an eagle motif. Planner and Bates also looked like brothers, being the same height, hair color, wearing similar dark blue suits. Bates, however, was noticeably slimmer than Planner.

They entered a large office with clear views of Manhattan to the north, looking over to the Empire State Building and Deco-style Chrysler Building. In the foreground was the famously uncontrollable Devil’s Kitchen area now favoured by artists and fashion stores.

“People would pay to see this view,” observed Planner.

“Oh, yes,” replied Black blandly. “I haven’t really had the time to look at it much, though.”

They sat around a desk with two large folders in the middle.

“We’re behind schedule,” Black sighed. “This move from Washington hasn’t helped.”

“I presume most of your stakeholders are in DC?” said Bates sympathetically.

“Right. This is really most inconvenient for us. But I stopped my complaining when I was woken up at midnight from someone-I-can’tmention, telling me: sort it out. He mentioned in no uncertain terms, the JFDI methodology.”

“JFDI?” asked Bates.

“Just Fucking Do It”, said Black with a tinge of a smile.

“So can you outline your brief?” asked Planner to the lawyers, with a knowing sideways glance to Bates.

“We’ve been working with Ashcroft, Chertoff⁴¹ and Viet⁴² for the passed year on the legal response. But you have to realise, this is not, and will not be, a complete bill,” said Black

Brown interrupted with his first contribution, “We’re working on bits of legislation that will er… come together, organically, after BE2.”

“We have ten different sections,” continued Black as he opened one of the folders on the table to show Planner and Bates. “Covering everything from surveillance to banking, border controls to computer security. Worked on by separate teams — all specialists in their respective fields and not all indoctrinated into the wider objectives. This is a major undertaking and there is only a close knit group that can review the whole amount.”

“So,” Planner backtracked. “This is one of the desired outcomes from BE2? To enable new legislation?”

“Oh, yes,” stated Black calmly. “This is one of the BE2’s main goals. It is so difficult to change the law. We need the catalysing event that you will be providing. We need it for the Programme for the New American Century⁴³.”

“Yes, I see,” Planner stated.

Brown seemed slightly irritated, “But we found we had a problem.”

Black added, “We workshopped the scenarios. We brought politicians and psychologists together and walked them through the art of the possible.”

Brown continued, “We identified a couple of months ago that there would just too many open-ended aspects to the program. None of us can know everything about these subjects — after all, law is our field. Not the seven layer model inside TCP-IP and other technical details. The whole thing has to be passed by the senate, hold together and not be picked apart piecemeal by liberals and libertarians. At least, not too quickly.”

“So your problem is just managing to get these legislative parts together?” asked Planner.

“No. Our problem started when we began to realise that we’d never be able to make our bill watertight. There’ll always be controversy, bound to be, and loose ends. It’s inevitable with something this large,” said Black.

“We concluded that we needed an Operation Phase B, it’s own Shock and Awe program⁴⁴ following on from BE2,” said Brown.

“It was the psychologist team’s idea,” added Black.

“From Operation Carrot, right?” said Bates.

“Sorry, I get lost with all the code names,” said Brown irritably.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me,” muttered Bates.

“So the purpose of this phase would be to drive the acceptance of the new laws. To continue for as long as required to get it signed. Everyone would be clamouring for the politicians to act,” said Brown forcibly.

“This is sounding like complication. I don’t like complication,” said Planner with a frown.

“I understand,” said Black. “We’ve taken this up to the COG. We needed to anyway, for logistical reasons.”

“Ok let’s hear it,” said Planner, leaning back.

“We agreed a scare tactic. Put the senators on edge until the bill is passed,” said Brown.

“And this is done… how?” asked Planner.

Black looked uncomfortable and after an exchange of glances, Brown stated, “Anthrax powder mailed through the post.”

“Anthrax!?” stated Planner with restrained alarm.

Black cradled his fingers, “I had the same reaction. The workshops, though, as I mentioned… we ran some scenarios and plotted out pros and cons for various options. In short, what we propose is the following… that the first intervention would use inert material; a dummy sent to selected journalists to hype the news; thereafter, further deliveries in easily identifiable packets in an escalation process… until we achieve our objective.”

“You’re planning on sending Anthrax to senators?” stated Planner in as even a tone as he could manage.

Brown replied, “You might be interested to note, there’s an inoculation drug called Cipro to protect high value assets⁴⁵⁴⁶. We’ve been told to expect very low collateral damage.”

“This has been cleared?” asked Planner, trying to hide his incredulity.

“Yes. I personally cleared it with the COG,” said Brown.

“And where are you going to dig up the Anthrax?” asked Bates.

Brown shuffled in his seat uncomfortably, “This is why we needed to go to the COG. Not only to approve the plan but to obtain the material. The requisition has been put into train. And from that we have good news and bad news.”

“The good news,” Black said airily, “is that we have permission.”

“The bad news is that we have to use… uh, unofficial means of obtaining the material,” said Brown and paused. “The COG said that you are the people to help us.”

* * * *

Bates and Planner sat within a booth in a dark and noisy bar close to Wall Street. It was only 6pm, Happy Hour, and light streamed into the bar whenever the door opened; and at Bates’ suggestion, both had already sampled some of the drinks. Planner was a Bourbon drinker, but Bates had insisted that they both have Martini cocktails of different types.

Planner loosen his tie and top shirt button, and said quietly to Bates, “If these lawyers think we are going to go into a military base like Tom Cruise, all clandestine, lowered in by cables, they’ll be mightily disappointed.”

“They’d probably consider the acquisition of one of the deadliest bacterial spores known to man, a minor detail,” Bates reflected, while finishing his September Manhattan⁴⁷.

“This minor detail requires its own Stage A, B and C. It’s a major operation. It’s not as simple as getting some spores and scatter them around until the Senators fall in line. I don’t like it. It’s messy and unnecessary,” said Planner.

“Just more shit we have to shovel,” Bates mused philosophically.

Planner shook his head, “No, this is different. It feels different to me.”

“I don’t know what you’ve been up to before, but this feels like modus operandi to me,” Bates stated with a shrug.

“This is different. This is quite new, for me anyway, in several ways. It’s no longer removing an enemy of the state or setting up the mood music for a political scenario to influence a Latin American republic, it is now marshalling our own senators with a metaphorical gun to their heads,” said Planner grimly.

“Et tu, Brute?” queried Bates.

Planner ignored the comment, “And besides the additional innocents sacrificed to Baal, there’s more shit to scrap from our shoes.”

“There’s always the money to buy new shoes,” observed Bates.

“Hmm, Money. Yeah but once you pass your hierarchy of needs, is money really a motivator?” considered Planner.

“Taking off your shoes and getting cold feet, Planner? Developing liberal morals? Best be careful in this place,” said Bates waving his hand to the bar.

Planner looked around and saw dozens of young executives in smart suits in this mock-mahogany lair; drinking cocktails and champagne, laughing very loudly; the cream of capitalism at play.

Planner sighed and expounded, “I live by the cliche that you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. The end justifying the means… I just… don’t like breaking more eggs than needed.”

“That’s excellent logic, Robert”, said Bates artificially. “I can see that you have the big picture.”

“So what motivates you, Bates?” asked Planner trying to hide his irritation.

“Money and sex, does it for me. Oh and probably, self-preservation,” Bates said with a wry smile.

“I know what’s bugging me,” said Planner looking at his drink. “I see myself as a cancer doctor. The cancer within society…”

“I got that,” said Bates.

“…And I use surgical operations, excisions, to remove the cancer,” said Planner. “And sometimes, sometimes, some healthy flesh has to be taken to remove that cancer. It’s unfortunate, but necessary. Utilitarianism⁴⁸. I do that. I know that’s my job.”

“Surgical? What er… instrument do you use?” Bates asked cautiously.

“Aircraft,” said Planner. “I use aircraft. Very blunt surgical device except for surgery on society. Then it can be very precise. And I’m good at aircraft. Bringing them down, explaining it away.”

Bates whistles in amazement.

“But this new plan…” Planner shakes his head.

“You mean Operation Eagle,” said Bates.

“Yes,” said Planner. “It is like introducing cancer to kill cancer. It just doesn’t work for me. It disturbs my, what shall I call it? …world view.”

“You cannot fly like an eagle with the wings of a dove,” quoted Bates.

“Very witty. Ok, I only have a short while,” said Planner, looking at his watch.

“You have another engagement?” asked Bates.

“I hope to,” smiled Planner.

“So what are we going to do to get this mat-eri-al?” asked Bates.

“We go in and ask nicely,” mused Planner. “With a big club behind our back!” Planner ripped a page from his filofax and wrote a name and number. “This is the go-to guy for the authorisation to get into Fort Detrick. We need to get in a.s.a.p. Can you call him?”

Bates takes the note and nods, impressed. Much to Planner’s surprise, Bates immediately destroys the note. He’d already memorised the name and number.

* * * *

A shower and 90 minutes, later, Planner was greeting Katherine in the hotel bar, with a handshake and small peck on the cheek.

“I’m glad you could make it. The jerks not keeping you too busy tonight?” said Planner.

“The jerks weren’t playing at all,” Katherine chuckled. “Stone-walling. So I have some time off this evening.”

Their waitress arrived with drinks, “Sir, Madam, your drinks. Can I get you anything else?”

“That’s fine. Thanks,” said Planner.

Katherine took her cocktail and started drinking it fast, barely able to make eye contact with Planner.

“So you work in New York and live in DC?” said Planner, trying to restart the conversation.

“Pretty much. I’ve been commuting for the past year. Usually one week in NY and the next working from home dialling-in from my home computer. So not too bad.”

“Nice view from your office?” he asked, still struggling to rekindle their rapport.

“The windows are too narrow to have a good view. One of the many things I don’t like about the building.”

“You don’t like the building?”

“No! Do you? I don’t know anyone that does,” Katherine said while continuing to drink quickly. “Apparently it’s so full of asbestos; it might be condemned!⁴⁹”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“55 Broad Street, down the road; I know one of the people working there. They emptied the building to have the asbestos stripped from there. It cost five times more than the original building cost! Can you see them doing that for the Twin Towers?” she said, adding, as if this was more important, “Even the shops in the basement mall are closing! Blah. So how has your day been?”

“Not good. A mess really,” sighed Planner. “Too many changes to plans; all sorts of detritus to be cleared up. I’ll need to beg for more resources. Cap in hand: Please Sir, Can I have some more. I’m beginning to think the whole program is flawed.”

Planner received a text message. Planner looked down briefly to read it. The text message from Bates read, “Fort D. all set up for next week”.

“Is this another defense contract going awry?” she asked hesitantly.

Planner looked up and said, “I’m afraid so.”

“Will you be able to sort it out with millions or billions?” she teased.

“It’s a billion dollar deal,” lied Planner smoothly. “But I’ll clear up my mess for an extra few million. But now I feel there may be other aspects flapping about and not pegged down.”

“So another billion, huh?” she said deliberately exaggerating. “Is your job on the line or anything?”

“You know I haven’t really thought about that,” said Planner jokingly. “Now I’ll be worrying about that tonight.”

“Nah! Worry about it in the morning. You have to sort me out tonight: stop me worrying about the jerks. I have so many things in my head at the moment,” said Katherine returning to her cocktail.

“Well… you know that the human mind can only deal with a maximum of eight big ideas at a time?” soothed Planner.

“Really? As many as that! I thought it was only women that could multitask,” She said with a fake laugh.

“Ooh, first sexiest remark of the evening! And not from me!” teased Planner.

Katherine had a more genuine laugh but still seemed ill-at-ease, “You have to excuse me. I guess I’m not use to going drinking with strange men. Boring men, yes. Strange men, no.”

“So tell me about yourself, Katherine. You seem a bit nervous.”

“I guess I am. I prefer talking about work in general. Safer subject.”

“The jerks are a safe subject?”

“I see your point,” she said. Then with feigned good humour, Katherine said, moving uncomfortably in her seat, “I’m pretty much a bitch at work. It’s easier that way. But speaking to another human, this is where the problems begin.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I find that it is easier to live in the land of lies. I live the life of an ogre devouring all in front of me. But in the real world, I have to admit to being a mere mortal.”

“And that causes a problem because…?” asked Planner wondering where this conversation was leading.

“What normally happens in the real world, is that, say, this salt-of-the-earth type guy rides into town, ties up his horse and wanders into the saloon, leans of bar and orders some drinks, you know, the way they do. He looks around and settles his gaze upon me across the crowded room, as I play my hand at the card table and win another huge kitty…”

“This is the real world, you say?” teased Planner.

Katherine provides a sarcastic half-smile.

“Sorry, go on”

Katherine continued gloomily, “So we meet, have a few laughs, and then, because this is the real world, I fess up. I say, I-have-a-daughter and then, with barely a tip of the hat, I watch my cowboy ride into the sunset…”

Planner responded quickly, “What’s her name?”

“Beth. She’s ten,” said Katherine, lightening up after making this confession.

“Ten? That’s a great age,” said Planner. “Tell me about her.”

“She wants to be a professional baseball player. She’s not very good but very enthusiastic.”

“The best way to be.”

“Not very good?” teased Katherine.

“That too,” Planner laughed. “I was actually talking about enthusiasm but, hey, let’s celebrate the not-naturally-talented too.”

“She probably has talents, just hasn’t found them. Last month, she wanted to be a doctor.”

Planner chuckled, “It’s good to keep your options open.”

“Were you one of those people that knew what they wanted to be at ten years old?” she asked.

“No, not at all. My parents pushed me hard. I complied. Got on well.”

“Ivy League?”

“Cornell,” said Planner. “It was good. I had a great time. My mates and I lived in a big old house close to campus. Every other house down the road was full of students. We had parties every weekend, under the watchful eye of residents that sat out on their front porches watching the commotion. I think they kind of liked it. Went down to the lakes at weekends. Picnicked out. Felt I lived through several lifetimes there.”

“Sounds lovely. Better time than I had at college. So what took over your life?”

“My job? I went into Aircraft Control Systems. Fascinating stuff, loved it. Found I was working with the engineers all night trying to get things fixed and working right; Electronics, Networks, Software, I used to know it all. It was boom-business in the eighties and I was good at my job. Yeah, I used to be good at my job.”

“Just used-to-be?” she queried.

“It’s a different job now. It’s er… political nowadays,” said Planner uneasily.

“You seem like you can handle it.”

“Appearing that-way is one of my strengths.”

“So work has taken over your life?” she asked.

“Oh totally. Several midnighters last week. Mind you, I also went the movies last night, so not all bad,” he said.

“What did you see?”

“Gladiator. On my command unleash hell!” mimicked Planner.

She laughed. Planner was glad she laughed. They continued to laugh together all night; even when there was no joke. They even laughed when they said good night with a peck on the cheek. But they were lovers by the end of the week.