“And we can’t deny knowing about the payload since the world knows of our attempt to take down Shepherd One. The only way we can justify our position in this matter is with the truth.”
“LA would be destroyed,” the president said factually.
“True,” said Attorney General Dean Hamilton. “But you can see as well as I do, Mr. President, that the city is already lost at this point. We need to get as many people out of the blast zone as quickly as possible.”
“And what about other options?” asked the president. “Is there anything that we can do to save the city and the people? Any suggestions at all?”
“Honestly, Mr. President, I think we’ve been down every avenue. The only thing left to us—I believe — is to use the media and clear out Los Angeles.”
The president realized there was 360 degrees of direction and wanted to examine every possible angle before settling on a decisive act. To his team he did not want to appear like a man of desperation either, but someone who was looking for a solid solution. “Is there any way we can get a team up there to retake the plane?”
Thornton leaned forward, appearing lost. “Excuse me?”
“Is there a way we can dispatch a team of commandos to retake Shepherd One — a military aerial tactic that would get a team on board without the terrorists knowing?”
Thornton cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Mr. President, situations like that are nothing more than cinematic crapola. No such tactic exists.”
“I know that,” he retorted. “But it was an angle no one brought up, which means there are other angles out there, viable or not, foolish or not. And I want to hear them all before I put Los Angeles in a state of panic. I want additional ideas, people. We’re not at crunch time yet.”
But no ideas came, the table growing silent, everybody believing the president was asking for the impossible, which was to come up with something plausible in an implausible situation.
Then we will start with the crux of the problem, he considered, which is the plane itself. So he sparked further conversation. “Shepherd One,” he began, “is circling over Los Angeles for a reason. I think it would be reasonable to say that if their primary objective was to detonate those weapons over a populated area, then they would have done so already. Yet they continue to hold a pattern.” He fell back in his seat, raised his hands and shrugged. “But why?” he asked. “Why maintain a pattern when you’ve reached your destination? It’s because they have something else in mind. Something they want, a concession on our part. Otherwise they would have set off those weapons after reaching LA. But they didn’t. Does everyone here at least agree with me on that assumption?”
They did, finding themselves drawn in, the point coming.
“I believe some type of demands will be coming forthwith, which gives us time to come up with a solution, hopefully from Dr. Simone. But I need to know how much time we have before we have no other choice but to alert the media and the subsequent evacuation of Los Angeles.”
“That’s kind of playing with fire,” said Dean. “We gave Shepherd One more time than necessary in the attempt to take her down. And now she’s flying over LA.”
“That’s because the first sortie failed in its mission with Shepherd One, giving them a little surprise we didn’t know about,” he stated. “But if we knew more about the mechanics of that plane, then she’d be lying on the ground as scorched metal. So we still have time, Dean — not much, but time to figure something out, nonetheless. And this time we start with what I need to know about the aircraft.”
Thornton took his cue and spread three sheets of paper before him. “Shepherd One is a Boeing seven-eighty-seven-nine Dreamliner,” he began. “It’s a top-of-the-line luxury model licensed by Alitalia Airlines in Rome. And although a part of the Alitalia fleet, this particular aircraft has been suited with flares and jammers to protect it against insurgent weaponry, such as ground-to-air missiles. What happened with the sortie was a maneuver on their part to buy time to get into LA airspace, which worked. They never would have survived the second sortie since the plane isn’t truly equipped for major defenses against F-16’s.”
“What about flight capability?”
Thornton raised his finger in an I-was-getting-to-that gesture. “It’s big,” he said. “It carries up to two hundred ninety people and has a range of nearly ten thousand miles.”
“Ten thou — on a single fueling?”
“Yes, Mr. President. Shepherd One has the capacity to travel back and forth across this country three times before it needs to be refilled. And at its current rate of speed, she can be up there another sixteen to eighteen hours.”
And this was true. The 787-9 Dreamliner was the newest and best of the aviation stock. With a range of 15,750 kilometers or 9,800 miles on a single fueling, the plane could circle LA for nearly two-thirds of a day, maybe longer given the lack of extra weight and tonnage since its flight capacity held only a slight grouping of passengers. This was good news, or at least news Burroughs could work with. It gave him time.
“They definitely want something,” he said more to himself. And then: “Contact them,” he said. “Tell them we want to open up a dialogue and know their demands.”
Craner leaned forward carrying the look of mild bafflement. “Are you considering concessions to terrorist demands?”
“What I’m considering is how to deal with the situation with the given time we have. I want to know for sure what’s in that plane, what they want, and try to come up with a solution.”
“Mr. President,” Dean Hamilton appeared downtrodden. “The policy of not negotiating with terrorists is unyielding, but in this case we may need more than just the need to know their position in all this. Right now the playing field isn’t even close to being level. Everybody at this table knows who has the upper hand at the moment.”
President Burroughs ingested this, knowing Dean was right. Policy or not, the American government may have to concede to the demands of terrorists for the better good. “I don’t like the idea of this administration buckling under terrorist demands. But Dean’s right.” He turned to Thornton, his top advisor, the man whom he had valued for advice his entire presidential tenure, a man whose counsel had always been forthcoming and solid. “What’s your take, Al?”
Thornton nodded in agreement. Even as reluctant as he was about conceding to terrorist demands. “Shepherd One is flying over a populated area with perhaps a nuclear payload. And we are completely impotent to do anything about it. In my opinion, we have to open doors of negotiation.”
“Those doors, Al, may also open up Pandora’s Box with grave repercussions.”
“That may be true. But I don’t see any other option at this point.”
“You said Shepherd One can be up there — what, sixteen hours?”
“At the very least, yes.”
“Then let’s assume they want something, which I’m sure they do. We’ll play them for eight, maybe ten hours — time that’ll hopefully give us a solution. If we don’t come up with something by then, then we’ll alert the media and have the city evacuated. But if we have at least ten hours — or any time at all to negotiate a peaceful outcome to this situation — then we use them.”
“So where do we begin?’ asked Senator Wyman.
“We begin by contacting Shepherd One,” he replied. “I want the Fighting Falcons to initiate communication immediately and set up a direct link to this room. I want to see Hakam’s face on that overhead projector. Is that clear?”
“It is,” said Air Force Joint Chief Henry Spaatz. And then he commenced the order to the Flight Commander of the Fighting Falcons to reopen dialogue with Shepherd One.