Brown, Dale - Independent 04 (37 page)

 
          
“I’m
trying to stop Cazaux, Mr. President,” Hardcastle said evenly. “It’s that
simple. With all due respect, sir, how
you
respond to this crisis affects your own political agenda more than how
I
respond.”

 
          
“When
I need your advice on politics, Admiral, I’ll ask,” the President snapped.
“With all due respect, Admiral, dealing with you is worse than Cazaux—at least
that maniac is not on TV every two hours. But let’s get back to what we should
do about Cazaux. Dr. Scheer’s staff has outlined your suggestions for me, and
although I consider your response dangerous, it could be the only one available
to us.”

 
          
“I
believe it
is
your only response, Mr.
President,” Hardcastle said, “and I’ve encouraged your advisers to just come
out and say so. FAA Level One security is the only set of procedures on the
civilian side for dealing with this emergency, and it won’t help stop or find
Cazaux. Civil and strategic defense is virtually nonexistent in this country.
The FAA’s SCATANA procedures basically entail shutting down all but a few major
airports and most navigation radio facilities, and we’re still faced with
finding and stopping Cazaux.”

 
          
“So
your solution is to turn security for this crisis over to the
military?”
Lani Wilkes asked
incredulously. She motioned to Hardcastle’s report. “You want to use the
military
inside the
United
States
for law enforcement?”

 
          
“This
is no longer a law enforcement question, Judge Wilkes, this is a
national defense
crisis.”

 
          
“You’re
wrong, Hardcastle. This is a criminal investigation, and it should be handled
like one. Mr. President, there is no doubt whatsoever that this is a serious
crisis, but imposing martial law is not the answer.”

 
          
“I
do not
want to impose martial law,”
the President said immediately, running his hand through his hair. “Let’s make
that real clear right from the get-go.”

 
          
“Mr.
President, I’ve read Admiral Hardcastle’s proposed plan,” Wilkes said, “and
it’s nothing but a reactionary, grandstanding power grab.”

 
          
“I
couldn’t agree more,” Deputy Attorney General Lowe said. “We don’t need the
military to secure the skies and hunt down Henri Cazaux. Mr. President, the
Executive Committee on Terrorism is in charge and in control of this
situation.”

 
          
“Judge
Wilkes, Liz, hold on a minute,” the President said evenly. “I brought
Hardcastle and the Colonel in here to get their thoughts.” He turned to
Hardcastle again. “I was briefed on your proposal, Admiral. It’s pretty severe.
Tell me why this isn’t martial law.”

 
          
“Mr.
President,
critics
can label this
plan whatever they like,” Hardcastle responded. “My objective is simply to
defend our major international airports from aerial attack.” “Mr. President, I
think the FBI can handle this crisis without having to resort to this extreme
military option,” Lowe said, holding up her copy of the plan Hardcastle had
proposed to the Secretary of Defense. “You’re talking about surface-to-air
missiles, fighters escorting commercial airliners,
free-fire zones
around major
cities
and
airports
. . . ?” She shook her
head in disbelief. “Ludicrous. This is not some damned Dale Brown novel, this
is real- life.”

 
          
“It
has to be set up and executed as if this was an overseas American military
installation under attack by a foreign hostile military force,” Hardcastle
explained. “Sir, the plan presupposes that we want air traffic in this country
to continue at the highest possible level of efficiency.”

 
          
“That
goes without saying, Admiral.”

 
          
“Then,
sir, it will be easier than taking candy from a baby for Henri Cazaux to attack
any airport at will, unless we have a layered, iron-clad defense network around
every major
U.S.
airport. It is absolutely essential that we act to screen air traffic
moving in and out of our major airports in case Cazaux slips past our dragnets
and tries to attack.”

 
          
“I
don’t like the sound of this one bit,” the President remarked, wishing like
hell that it wasn’t
his
Administration that had to deal with this shit. Why couldn’t they have just
elected his wife? Let her handle it, that’s what he wanted. “But I invited you
here because enough people think your plan might have merit during this
emergency. What is it you propose, Admiral?”

 
          
“Sir,
my plan has two major elements,” Hardcastle explained. “First, we control and
monitor the movement of every aircraft in the
United States
, using civilian and military radar systems.
Second, we use airborne and ground- based air defense systems to track,
identify, and, if necessary, engage any aircraft that is not properly
identified or deviates from its proper course.”

 
          
“This
is the Hammerheads all over again,” Lani Wilkes said with an expression of
disgust, as if someone had passed gas. “Another assault on the Bill of Rights,
eh, Admiral?”

 
          
“Until
you catch Cazaux, there is no other way to keep air traffic in this country
moving safely, Judge Wilkes.” “You make it sound so sterile, Admiral,”
Transportation Secretary Mersky interjected. “Putting every aircraft in the
United States
on an instrument flight plan? That’ll
overload our air traffic controllers. All others can’t fly? That’ll ground
hundreds of thousands of planes. And your term ‘engage’ is a polite term for
‘shoot down,’ as in ‘shoot down a commercial airliner’ if it strays too far off
course or turns the wrong way on a missed approach in bad weather.” “Admiral
Hardcastle, I simply don’t think this plan will work—or if it is implemented,
it won’t do any good and will cause more panic and confusion than it will help,”
the Vice President added stiffly. “Every plane flying into a major airport in
the country has to be escorted by an
armed
fighter? This has got to be a violation of Constitutional rights.”

 
          
“The
only way to positively identify a suspect aircraft is to intercept it and check
it visually, sir,” Vincenti interjected. “And in many cases, the only way to
divert a suspect away from a restricted area is by a fighter intercept. The
ground-based air defense systems are a last resort only. Obviously, shooting at
a terrorist plane only a few miles from a major airport will still cause
massive destruction on the airport, although if it doesn’t hit its intended
target then the engagement was a success.

 
          
“The
intercept must be as far from the intended target and as far from major
population centers as possible. A Stinger missile has a range of perhaps one to
two miles, and the cannon on an Avenger mobile air defense unit has an
effective range of half that. But a terrorist hit by an Avenger cannon or a
Stinger missile will more than likely still crash on the airport, although the
damage and death it causes should be greatly reduced. Patriot has a maximum
range of about sixty miles, the Hawk missile perhaps twenty—this is the minimum
range a suspected terrorist should be allowed to approach.”

 
          
“This
is nuts .. .” someone muttered.

 
          
There
were murmurs of concurrence around the room. “The main means of identification,
control, and engagement must be by armed fighter interceptors, which are
vectored into the intercept by AWACS radar planes. Then, intercept the suspect
as far from the target as possible— preferably hundreds of miles away,”
Vincenti went on. “All suspected terrorist aircraft must be kept away from
major airports, and the best way to divert an airliner to another airport where
it can be inspected is with an interceptor.” “This is insane!” Deputy Attorney
General Lowe said. “Can you imagine an American Airlines flight with two
hundred people on board looking out and seeing a fighter on its wing? Jesus,
what if there’s an
accident?
An
accidental shoot-down will cause mass hysteria.”

 
          
“General
Lowe, I think we’ve already got mass confusion bordering on hysteria right
now,” Hardcastle said. “My flight from
California
to
Washington
was delayed for hours because someone’s
flight plan was lost and they wouldn’t allow the aircraft into their airspace.
I heard air traffic controllers panicking on the radio every time a plane
strayed a couple miles off course—it didn’t matter that the plane was a little
corporate job a hundred miles away from any major airport. Sir, we’ve got to
take control of this situation or the public
will
panic.”

 
          
“Mr.
President, with all due respect to Colonel Vincenti, we should ask Admiral
Hardcastle and his staff to pack up their Patriot missiles and F-16 fighter
planes and go back to the TV talk shows,” Lowe said bitterly. “We don’t need
his brand of frontier justice to keep control of this situation.”

 
          
“I
agree, Mr. President,” FBI Director Lani Wilkes chimed in. “Sir, Cazaux is
going to make a mistake. If that was his handiwork in
Memphis
, the net will only pull tighter.”

 
          
“Okay,
Liz,” the President said, holding up his hands. “Tell me what you’ve got in
mind for restoring confidence in air travelers?”

 
          
While
Lowe spoke, Deborah Harley, Martindale’s special assistant assigned to
Hardcastle for this meeting, leaned forward in her seat behind Hardcastle and
slipped him a note. He turned to her. Harley was in her late forties, a pretty
blonde with bright green eyes and a thin but persistent smile. “What’s this,
Miss Harley?” he asked.

 
          
“An
observation, Admiral,” she whispered. Her smile seemed pleasant enough, but her
eyes were hard and insistent.

 
          
Hardcastle
frowned. He did not know Harley, but had seen her on numerous occasions with
Martindale in a variety of functions—sometimes she acted as a secretary, a
chauffeur, a bodyguard, or even as a wife. Martindale, divorced after being
voted out of office in the last election, had a variety of beautiful women
drifting in and out of his life—the tabloids kept constant tabs on Martindale’s
frequent flings—but only Deborah Harley returned. She was beautiful and
mysterious and could even be considered alluring—perfect “tabloid bait”—but the
tabloids never pursued her. Hardcastle had never spoken more than a few
pleasantries to her. She was all business.

 
          
He
had trouble reading her unfamiliar handwriting—the message looked like, “It’s a
SITREP.” He was about to ask her what she meant when the President addressed
him: “How does that sound to you, Admiral?”

 
          
“I’m
sorry, sir,” Hardcastle responded, folding the note and shoving it into a
pocket, unread. “Say again?”

 
          
“Jesus,
Admiral, we’re having a meeting over
here,
”
Lowe muttered irritably. “I suggested to the President that one way to
monitor air traffic is to restrict all flights from and to towered fields on
IFR flight plans only, where tower personnel can visually identify all
departing aircraft and we can use the ATC computers to help monitor all
traffic. In that way, we can keep a good portion of general aviation traffic
moving, eliminate the pop-up radar targets, and we don’t endanger civil air
traffic with missiles and guns.”

 
          
“If
you’ll notice, that’s all part of my plan, General Lowe,” Hardcastle said. “I
think it’s essential for authorities to know precisely what the origin of each
and every flight is. As the system works now, a flight under visual flight
rules can enter the air traffic control system anywhere. This is called a
‘pop-up’ flight plan, and we need to eliminate them. Cazaux can load up a cargo
plane with explosives from some isolated desert base, take off, then simply
call up ATC and get a flight plan to a major airport. He’ll get first-class ATC
service—right to his bomb-release point. By restricting flights from only towered
airports, federal authorities can directly determine who’s in the system. If a
personal inspection is warranted, we have a chance to do it—”