The Planner

Chapter Six: Rainbow Review

Planner was in a featureless WTC7 conference room with various members of the Rainbow Team including Bates, Turquoise and Indigo. Bates was reading through a set of minutes on his chunky, IBM Thinkpad laptop.

“Can we just run through the list of actions?” said Bates to unenthusiastic murmurs. “First one: passenger list?”

“Complete,” said Turq. “We’ll spread the 200 passengers over the four aircraft. We’re expecting a few more.”

“Extra Flight crew?” Bates asked, and then remembered, “Right, I’m handling that. I have some contacts at the airlines that can help select the right people.”

Turq added, “Assuming these are also destined for the Witness Protection Program, can you let me have their names when you can?”

Indigo added nervously, “There’s also the ground contact team. They need to know.”

Bates fixed him with a stare, “Sure. Ok. Moving on: Extra Hijackers?”

“That’s me, again,” said Turq. “I’ve got some extra names and documents from Hiijii. We need to fill their back-stories a bit more and mix the evidence trails. We have, uh, extra people turning up at each airport. They’re the patsies for the Rainbow Actors.”

Planner sighed, “Patsies for patsies. Is that going to work?”

“Sure,” Turq said nonchalantly. “I’ve done it before in Africa. The Chinese do it all the time. I’ll be at Boston⁵⁰ to coordinate the switch onto 175 and make sure it runs smoothly.”

“Ok,” said Planner. “Once you have everything, tell Hiijii to leave the country, ok?”

“Right,” said Turq and raising her eyebrows added, “He won’t need telling twice.”

Bates said, “Next action concerns the airlines. Are the contacts aware?”

“Yes,” said Turq. “They’ll keep a lid on things until the second crash.⁵¹”

“If they can delay alerting the third and forth aircraft too. That would give us more room to operate,” suggested Planner.

“Sure,” said Turq.

Bates typed into his laptop, before raising the next action, “Physical evidence? Indigo, how’s that going?”

“We have the plans for the evidence trail,” stammered Indigo nervously. “From credit card purchases, letters in the motel, in the trash can, and luggage left in the hire car; flight uniforms, a will, flight manuals^{52 53}…”

“Yes, I know about that,” interrupted Bates with a fake smile. “The action was on the physical evidence at the crash sites.”

“We have four hijacker passports,” Indigo stuttered and added nervously, “One for each site. But that’s probably too many.”

“Two would be plenty. Damaged, of course,” suggested Planner.

“Yes. We’ve burnt through a dozen to get it just right,” Indigo said with a jittery smile. “We also have bandanas and box cutters to add in.”

“Keep it simple,” Planner mused. “A single bandana will do.”

“Right,” said Indigo and gaining more confidence continued, “Obviously, we’ll also be collecting personal belongings. Wallets and watches from the passengers when they change identity. We’ll add that to the crash recovery pile.”

“Remember to tell the Stage C team about that. What about… um… body parts?” Planner said pursing his lips.

“Well,” said Indigo and he became nervous again. “As long as all the DNA sampling takes place by our labs, particularly the military lab in Washington, then… then… this will not be a problem.⁵⁴ We’ll introduce the WITSEC personnel DNA into the analysis to provide that evidence trail.”

“And hijacker DNA?” asked Turq.

“Can we get additional middle-eastern samples? It doesn’t have to be from the actual hijackers,” added Bates helpfully.

“Sure,” said Indigo, taking notes.

“And al-Qaeda’s statement of responsibility?”

Indigo looked around to Lilac, a thick-set, forty year blonde woman, who said in a high voice, “I’m working on that. We are working with the Insurgent Liaison Team on the wording. We have some audiotape supplied by Hiijii, but we’re not too happy about it at the moment. We’re re-editing it.⁵⁵”

Planner nodded.

Bates said, “Ok. There’s an action here on getting data for the flight data recorders.⁵⁶”

There were no takers for this action so Planner said, “Pass that action over to Colonel Purple. He should be able to get the data off one of his computers.⁵⁷”

“Final action I have here is the TV news script,” said Bates.

“That’s being compiled by Violet. She’s off sick today,” said Indigo. “It’s being progressed with one of the other operations, I believe.”

“Oh? Well ok. Just make sure we keep it simple,” said Planner. “No stewardesses found tied up in the wreckage⁵⁸⁵⁹, or anything like that.”

* * * *

Planner’s schedule was hectic but he was keen to fit another meeting in with Colonel Nicholas.

Nicholas welcomed Bates and Planner into his new New York office. He had moved up from Langley the previous week. Apparently the poster of the jet-fighter-in-the-cage logo did not follow him to WTC7 and his office seemed bare without the posters and bookshelves he had at his old office. The plain painted room housed just a white board, desk and laptop computer.

“How’s it going?” asked Planner.

Sitting on his desk, the Colonel replied, “We’ll be having the biggest Global Guardian exercise⁶⁰ ever. So much so, that the Russians have stepped up their exercises too, which means…”

Bates finished off the sentence, “More aircraft needed to spy on their exercises?”

“Precisely,” beamed Nicholas. “So what can I help you with, Gentleman?”

“Options for the targets, the number of aircraft, the number of drones,” said Planner. “I presume you’ve been over this before. There’s been some debate on whether we save some money by reducing the number of real 757s and 767s in favor of a pre-existing military drone and some cover-story work in Stage C.”

Nicholas sighed. “Well, in the early days of planning I was told to reduce costs. It doesn’t apply now, with all the deadlines approaching. But I was caught in some crossfire from the top: save money, while at the time, the number of operations was increasing. As you know, my health suffered. There are only so many 16 hour days in a row you can do, without collapsing.”

“Indeed, we’re feeling the pressure already ourselves,” said Planner, but Bates gave a haughty look; he was apparently untroubled by the pace.

“I had to speculate on a number of different scenarios: real aircraft, with real people killed; airliner drones, with and without real passengers; or some cheaper drone with computer generated imagery or other means of story substantiation,” explained Nicholas.

“What did you conclude?” asked Planner.

“I stuck my heels in. I insisted on real airliner drones but without real passengers. It was the most expensive option. Faking deaths apparently is much more expensive than actually accepting collateral damage,” sighed Nicholas.

“Yes, I know about these costs,” said Bates. “A real death is estimated at $1million. That’s the insurance pay out. For a fake death, it is still $1million insurance, plus $1million as payment to the faker, plus anywhere up to a $1million on administration, WITSEC, etc. So three times more expensive.”

“The real money, though, is spent on the airliner drones,” said Nicholas. “An airliner is typically $80million. And a drone version is another $20million. Plus slush money, another $10 million. If you substitute an old military aircraft as the drone, there’s a ton of money to be saved. Well, I refused, as I said. Didn’t go down well with the higher-ups,” he confided.

“So is that still your recommendation?” asked Planner.

“Well, actually,” said Nicholas slowly. “I did come up with a plan that saved 25 % that you might be interested in. The COG never got to see it before I moved over full time to Operation Nicholas. At the very least, the options paper may be useful for Stage C PsyOps. I’ll send it to you…”

“Can I have a copy too?” said Bates red-cheeked.

Nicholas fixed him with a stare, “No problem,” he said, although clearly it was.

* * * *

The following Monday, Planner did not fly to New York. He picked up Bates and Turq mid-morning from CIA HQ at Langley and drove 50 minutes to Fort Detrick, a giant military establishment, the headquarters of U.S. Army Medical Research And Materiel Command⁶¹. Within the gatehouse, with the motto “Protect, Project and Sustain” was prominently displayed. They lined up to pass through security under the watchful gaze of two fully armed guards.

Planner received a text on his cell phone. It said, “I had a great time last week. Are you free this evening? The jerks may be giving me time off again. Katherine.”

The first guard barked brusquely, “Sir, all cell phones are to be switched off and put into lockers.”

“Right, of course,” said Planner.

Planner, Bates and Turquoise turned to see a row of lockers and put their bags and cell phones into them.

Finally it was their turn to pass through the arch of the metal detector. Turq pointed to her case, “I’ll need to take this.” The case was successfully passed through a metal detector.

They approached the desk where the burly receptionist had just finished dealing with other visitors. The receptionist was as broad as he was high, he could have been a retired Police Officer; he certainly had the manner of man used to dealing with crowds. “Can I just get you to sign in, Sir?” he said in a deep, gravelly voice.

The receptionist offered a logbook to sign but Planner handed him a letter. With just a glance at the letter, the receptionist hastily pulled the logbook away, unsigned. In a loud whisper, he said “Ah. Yes, Sir. We’re expecting you. Um, could you wear these badges, perhaps, Sir?” He pushed over three “Unescorted Visitor” passes and waved at the second guard. “Guard,” he boomed again. “Please show these gentlemen to Block 5.”

The guard saluted and kindly offered the door to exit gatehouse.

* * * *

In Block 5, they met Malcolm, a microbiologist in his late fifties with a short, gray beard, wearing a tieless, short-sleeved shirt and slacks. He welcomed Planner, Bates and Turq into a clean, bare office. They shook hands and sat around a bare metal table.

“It is good for you to see us at such notice, Malcolm,” said Planner.

Malcolm laughed. “Well, I didn’t really have much choice about that. The chief cleared my diary and said I needed to be here.”

“I hope we haven’t inconvenienced you too much,” said Planner.

“Just a flight re-arrangement, no problem really. I think I was just surprised. It’s a bit of a sleepy hollow around here. We’re not used to Executive Directives,” he continued jovially.

“I assume you have only been informed verbally?” Planner asked.

“Um, yes, just from my boss,” confirmed Malcolm.

“Good,” said Planner, “Because this visit and this discussion is Top Secret Strap-3. The codeword is Bald Eagle.”

Turq took a document from her briefcase. “This is just a formality, could you sign here, please?”

Malcolm took the document and quickly scanned it. “This is just a standard non-disclosure agreement,” he said. “What am I not to disclose?”

“After you sign, we can tell you,” smiled Turq.

Malcolm returned Turq’s gaze while taking out a pen from his jacket. He scanned the paper again and then signed. Turq took back the document.

“Thank you, Malcolm. Sorry for the formality but you’ll understand our caution shortly,” soothed Planner. “What we discuss here must not be repeated to anyone. Refer any inquiries to this number.” Planner wrote down a number in his filofax and tore off the sheet to give to Malcolm.

“Ok,” said Malcolm looking at the number uncertainly.

“We’re here to secure material for an urgent operational requirement. It is a matter of National Security,” said Planner.

“I assumed as much. By material, you mean a biological agent, right?” said Malcolm.

“Yes,” said Planner reluctantly.

“What kind?”

“Anthrax,” Planner said.

The scientist shook his head and sighed. “Really?”

“Yes. That’s our orders,” said Planner calmly.

Malcolm squirmed again before settling into a reluctant professional attitude. “Well, I guess that’s what we’re here for,” he said deliberately.

“Well, we signed up for this sort of stuff, right?” Planner said.

“Perhaps you can describe the mission a bit,” Malcolm said with a sigh. “Anthrax, as you are probably aware, is a particularly nasty biological weapon but it can be delivered in a number of ways; it can be tuned for different objectives. Can you describe the mission to me in general terms?”

“Delivery by letter. It doesn’t have to be effective. Just recognisable as anthrax for a scare campaign,” said Planner.

Malcolm exhaled and appeared physically relieved. “How many letters?” he asked.

“Between 5 and 10,” said Planner.

“Ok. When do you want it?”

“Two months time. But sooner, if possible.”

Malcolm performed some mental calculations, “Hmm, I have a presentation I made up last fall for the Pentagon brass which might aid our discussion…”

Ten minutes later, Malcolm was projecting a set of powerpoint slides inside the darkened room. Malcolm was explaining the modification of anthrax with magnified images of spores. “We can weaponized the material in various ways for different delivery mechanisms and levels of lethality. We can mix various coatings onto the anthrax spores. Silica, for example, make the spores airborne so more likely to inhale and so can infect a large number of people. Other times you may want the spores to attach to just a single person and it can be personalised by various chemical attractants. Others chemicals provide a catalyst to aid absorption to effect its lethality. We can add a chemical to speed the absorption through the lungs, which pretty much guarantees death within two days. However that is not fast enough for some objectives so there are other chemicals that promote absorption through other areas, the nasal lining, for instance. That kills much more rapidly. So you can see there is quite a few variations. Do you have a preference?”

“Not really. We will not require the most lethal variant but can you mix it up?” said Planner.

“Sure. We can provide, say, 10 separate sachets with handling and disposal instructions⁶²,” said Malcolm.

“Can you provide the instructions verbally? We do not want any written document, no requisition forms, no delivery notes, no instruction notes. We don’t want anything to track back to us,” Planner said.

Malcolm switched the lights on and sighed. “Ah. That may be a problem. Not on the writing side, that’s easy enough. But as for traceability, there may be a problem. You see, each Anthrax spore has a unique DNA signature. All the US controlled anthrax can be traced back to one or other of the labs. Sometimes down to individual batches.”

Planner looked from side to side, to Turq and Bates.

“What would we need to do make the spores untraceable?” mused Bates.

“We could destroy the batch records… um… take the sample from a known strain and then destroy all details of the records”, pondered the scientist. “For example, we have a library of anthrax spores over at the CDC at Iowa State University. We could use one of their strains and then lose the records⁶³.”

“Would that do it?” asked Bates.

“Possibly. You’ve may have moved it into plausible deniability. You wouldn’t be able to fool an expert in the matter, though.”

“This must be a pretty narrow field of expertise,” observed Planner.

“Oh, it is,” said the scientist. “There is probably less than twenty people in the whole of the USA that know one end of an anthrax spore from the other.”

Bates looked over towards Planner and Planner nodded. They knew that their psyop memes were cultivated in the space between facts and opinion, and anything that was a shade of gray could made either black or white as far as the public consensus was concerned.