General McKenna said, ‘Are they still heading to their destinations?’
‘No,’ Bocks said. ‘They’re holding at altitude along their routes at maximum fuel conservation. They’ve all declared an in-flight emergency for a positive threat against their aircraft.’
‘Good. General Bocks… I’ve also been notified that those canisters are designed to release their contents if the aircraft descend below three thousand feet.’
Bocks’s eyes felt as though they were burning. He rubbed at them. ‘That’s right.’
‘Sir, you need to ensure your pilots understand that they are to maintain altitude and stand by to divert. Understood? In a matter of minutes each of your aircraft is going to have an Air Force or Air National Guard escort. They have orders to respond if any of your aircraft begin an unauthorized descent. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Bocks said, ‘That I do. You intend to shoot down any of my aircraft that start descending without authorization.’
‘Correct. Sorry to have to tell you this, sir.’
Bocks said, ‘Not as fucking sorry as I am to hear it.’
The airport was a cluster-fuck early this morning, and Randy Tuthill had to use guile, arguments, and his old Air Force ID to gain entry to his maintenance hangars. After parking his Jeep Cherokee, he was about to trot down to the Operations Center when one of his senior machinists, a guy named Clarke, grabbed his arm.
‘Randy, you’ve got to see what’s going on over here.’
‘Shit, Gary, I’m overdue to see the General.’
‘Trust me, the General’s gonna want to know what’s going on up here.’
He followed Clarke to one of the open bay doors and stopped. Yellow tape had been strung across the entrance to the bay, and men in black jumpsuits, Kevlar helmets and automatic weapons strapped to their chest kept a quiet vigil from inside the hangar.
‘Holy Christ,’ Randy said. But it wasn’t the men with guns that had caused the outburst. Before him, about twenty yards away, was one of his MD-11s, parked quietly, but looking like some giant science experiment. A huge translucent plastic bag of some sort had been draped over the fuselage, and small air generators were keeping it inflated. Two dark green trailers had been backed up to the covered airplane, and Randy could make out shapes working just below the aircraft.
Randy rubbed at his chest. It felt like it was about to tear itself open. He knew what was going on, but he had to ask.
‘What do you know, Gary?’
‘All the fuck I know is that these guys took over both maintenance hangars, kicked us out, and they’ve started working on this first piece of equipment. I think they’re going into the air-conditioning packs.’
‘All right.’
‘Oh. And one more thing. Just before you got here, I saw one of the guys — wearing an EPA suit or something — go into the trailer, carrying something. And a while after that, one of those guys started yelling something.’
‘What was he yelling?’
‘Positive,’ Gary said. ‘He was yelling that whatever it was, it had tested positive.’
Randy nodded, his chest even more tight. ‘I’ll make sure to tell the General.’
Carrie Floyd was thinking of what to say when she and Sean had their little conversation in Boston when a blinking light caught her eye. She looked down at the control pedestal between her seat and Sean’s, and saw a flashing yellow light in the corner of a small square box that was starting to spit out a piece of printed paper.
‘Sean, message coming in from ACARS.’
Sean reached down, tore off the slip of paper as it came out of the top of the ACARS unit. ACARS was a data link system to their Operations Center and allowed them to send text messages back and forth. Most airlines in the world used a type of ACARS and AirBox was no different.
Sean said, ‘What kind of bullshit is this?’
He passed the message slip over to her. She read:
AB 107
POSITIVE THREAT TO YOUR AIRCRAFT
THREAT ALTITUDE SENSITIVE
DO NOT DESCEND BELOW 3000 MSL
DECLARE EMERGENCY WITH ATC.
HOLD PRESENT POSITION AT MAX FUEL ENDURANCE
ACKNOWLEDGE WITH DISPATCH
MORE TO FOLLOW
It felt like a jet of cold air was playing against the back of her neck. ACARS was usually used to inform aircraft about changes in weather or advise about conditions at destination airports. Nothing as… nothing as terrifying as this one. Had to be a bomb of some sort. Something that would be triggered in a change in altitude… a barometric device of some sort.
Carrie said, ‘You’ve got to be shitting me… Sean?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Contact ATC. Declare an emergency and ask them where we can hold. Tell them we want to stay at altitude.’
She started to throttle back the engines and said, ‘All right, I’m slowing to max conserve speed… and in fact, I’ve changed my mind. You take the aircraft. I’m going to contact ATC.’
‘Roger, I’ve got it.’
She toggled the microphone switch on the yoke handle as the aircraft slowed down, allowing the minimum amount of fuel flow to the engines to keep them airborne for the longest period of time.
Big question, of course, was how much time?
Carrie said, ‘Memphis Center, AirBox one-oh-seven.’
‘AirBox one-oh-seven, go ahead.’
‘Ah, we’ve been advised by our dispatch that there is a positive threat against our aircraft. We’re declaring an emergency and need to hold at altitude for the present time.’
The woman’s voice from Memphis Center said, ‘Roger, one-oh-seven, we just got advised same over the landline as well. Hold present position, leg length your discretion, maintain flight level three three zero.’
‘Roger, present position, three three zero and we’ll use twenty-minute legs,’ Carrie said, indicating the length of time they would fly while maintaining their current position at 33,000 feet.
‘One-oh-seven, approved and we need souls on board and fuel remaining when you get a chance.’
Carrie said, ‘Two souls and let’s call it four hours of fuel.’
‘Roger, one-oh-seven. Do you need any further assistance?’
‘Not at this time, but we’ll get back to you if necessary. One-oh-seven out.’
She looked to her co-pilot, who was not happy. ‘They knew,’ he said. ‘They were advised before you called in. They know what’s happening to us and why we were declaring an emergency.’
‘That they do,’ she said. ‘And I intend to find out, too.’
Sean nodded. ‘Glad to hear that.’
‘All right,’ Carrie said. ‘I’ve got the aircraft back, Sean. Let’s see if you can get a phone patch set up. I want to talk to Dispatch, and soonest. Something screwy is happening here and I’ll be goddamned if I’m going to let the Ops Center and ATC know what’s happening before we do.’
Eddie Mitchell liked to get in early for work, which meant emptying the trash bins, cleaning the bathrooms, and vacuuming the carpeted offices before most of the workers got there. Sometimes people were working in the building and its offices when he got there, even at such an ungodly hour, but usually they treated him nice, and he knew not to bother them if they seemed to be working hard and having meetings. Then he wouldn’t vacuum but would work around them.
Eddie was retired US Navy, with a clear security-clearance record, and he did this work because he liked to get out of the house, and also liked to think that he was doing his part — tiny as it was — with the war on terror.
So when, last month, his duties had been expanded to do an inventory check he didn’t mind. He liked to think that what he did here made a clean and cheerful work environment, and might give these people a bit of an edge to do important work.