Free Fall (17 page)

Thirty-Four

North Dakota

R
obert Cole pounded on the door of the double-wide trailer that served as the office for Riverwind Self-Storage before reading the hours-of-operation sign in the window.

The office was closed.

He cursed then saw the number to call in case of emergency, took out his phone and called it. He got a voice mail, left a message, then called the Clear River police.

“I want to report a robbery. A break-in and theft of property.” Cole gave the police operator details. Then he sat down and waited on the wooden steps in front of the office and battled the panic surging through him.

He struggled to fathom why his belongings had been taken, while contending with the chilling fact that it was now hopeless for him to even attempt a solution to prevent another airline tragedy.

Some fifteen minutes later, a Clear River police car, along with a pickup truck, rolled up to the gate. Officer Ken Bropton and Chester Yakawich, the owner of Riverwind, had arrived. Yakawich, who had an unlit cigar in the corner of his mouth, retrieved a clipboard and keys from the office. The three men walked quickly to unit 108, Yakawich's keys jingling as Cole recounted his shock and anger. Bropton immediately inspected the door.

“Doesn't look like forced entry,” he said.

“That's because it wasn't.” Yakawich pulled out his cigar and snapped through pages of his clipboard. “Nothing was stolen. All the contents were auctioned on the weekend.”

“Auctioned?” Cole repeated. “Who gave you permission to auction my property?”

“You did, sir.”

Cole shook his head.

“I certainly did not.”

Bropton shot a glance to Yakawich, who suggested they go to the office. Once they were in the trailer, Yakawich went to the steel cabinets against one paneled wall. He sifted through files, removed one and consulted it.

“Yeah,” Yakawich said, “it's what I thought. You called us on the twenty-sixth of last month, Mr. Cole, and told us to auction the contents of your unit. I sent Becky to your place. You signed the paperwork and gave us your spare key.” Yakawich handed a contract to Bropton, who gave it a quick read and passed it to Cole. “She said you weren't feeling so good that day.” Yakawich gave Bropton a subtle look. “And, I'm sorry, but we found a lot of empty liquor bottles in your unit.”

“I don't think this is a police matter,” Bropton said.

Cole stared disbelievingly at his signature and traveled across a wasteland of fog-shrouded memories.

It was true. In a fit of booze-drenched emotional pain he'd decided to jettison all his belongings, but he'd been too drunk to remember.

“In any event—” Yakawich went to his desk and passed an envelope to Cole “—we've just processed your check. Here it is, four-hundred and fifty, after our fees. The invoice and list of items are in there.”

“Who bought my property? There's something of value I need to retrieve. Where is it?”

“It's on your invoice, but I can tell you that it went to Kord Pitman. He's a second-hand dealer in Bismarck.”

“Would he still have it? It was only last weekend.”

“I'll give him a call for you right now if you like, sir.”

“Please, it's urgent.”

* * *

The distance to Bismarck from Clear River was over three hundred miles and was usually a four-hour drive. Cole made it in a little over three and a half, heading directly to the High Plains Vintage Emporium.

The business was in the northeast fringe of Bismarck, on a stretch of flatland with an aging farmhouse and an enormous metal Quonset hut. Behind it, there was an array of used cars, trucks, farm vehicles and heavy equipment. Three large German shepherds roamed the grounds freely.

“Well, like I said on the phone, Mr. Cole—” Liz Pitman led him into the massive Quonset hut “—you're more than welcome to take a look. See if you can find what you want. Then we can talk.”

The hut was crammed with rows of huge storage shelves groaning under the weight of beds, tables, dressers, stoves, fridges, sofas, TVs, desks, paintings, driers, washers, clothing, books, toasters, blenders, it went on and on. Dust mites danced in the columns of sunlight leaking through the tiny rooftop windows. The place had an air of discarded dreams.

“The load from Clear River was recent and hasn't been processed.”

“Processed?”

“As you can see, we distribute items to the proper area,” Liz said. “Kord's in Idaho, so Jess and Dwight were working on it this morning. All the new items are near the back. So what was it you were most concerned about?”

“The contents of two metal file cabinets.”

“There you go and there they are.” Liz pointed.

Cole's cabinets stood alone in an area near all the other material from his storage unit.

“Now we'll be happy to sell it back to you.”

Cole opened the first cabinet. It was empty. So was the second.

“These were filled with files and material. Where is it?”

“Hold on.” Liz reached for her phone.

She made a call, then turned away from Cole to talk privately, which he took as a bad sign, as he searched among the other items. He touched things that had belonged to his wife and to his daughter. In this place, it made him realize how short and fragile life was.

“Sir?”

Cole turned to her. His heart skipped.

“We usually recycle all paper material, and that's where my sons are now, at the recycling plant. They had a large load and added your material to it.”

“So it's gone?”

“No. I stopped them, but if they bring the load back, that'll be an additional cost.”

“I'll pay it! Get them back here as soon as possible, please!”

For thirty-five tense minutes Cole waited with Liz, until the dogs barked and a five-ton truck grinded up to the hut's back door. As country music leaked from the truck—Johnny Cash—Liz and her sons helped Cole locate his property. After he'd agreed to a payment of four hundred dollars, they'd helped him load his pickup truck.

During the long, lonely drive back to Clear River, Cole considered all of his items bundled in the bed of his truck.

I don't know if I still have the skill to develop an answer to the system's weakness
. His hands tightened on the wheel.
And do I have the time before the next tragedy?

Thirty-Five

Manhattan, New York

K
ate worked at her desk, mining the article for useable information.

It was a report in the
Chicago Tribune
on a speech President Bush had given to air industry workers at O'Hare International Airport a few weeks after the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001.

The president's remarks had focused on strengthening air safety and security. Kate went to the link for the White House archives and printed off the full speech. In it, the president had promised action on a number of fronts.

Kate underlined one key section.

“We will look at all kinds of technologies to make sure that our airlines are safe,” the president had said, “including technology to enable controllers to take over distressed aircraft and land it by remote control.”

Remote control? What happened to this technology? Was it ever used?
Kate chided herself for not finding this piece of information earlier and using it in her reports on EastCloud and Shikra.

It was there all this time and I missed it
.

Chuck Laneer was not at his desk when she placed her printouts of her research on his chair. “I think we could have a story here,” she wrote in the yellow note she stuck to the package.

Thirty minutes later, Chuck called her.

“This will work,” he said. “And I have an idea on what we can do.”

He called Kate into his office, along with Hugh Davidson from the business section. Hugh reported on computer technology and was known as Newslead's Emperor Nerd. He was partial to bow ties and pastel shirts.

Chuck had Tim Yardley with Newslead's Washington bureau and Noah Heatley with the London bureau on the line. He turned on his speaker.

“You've all had a chance to look at the older clips. We're going to build a story on this. Kate will lead. Hugh and Tim and Noah, I want you to feed whatever you can find on the subject to Kate.”

“Excuse me, but this issue's been around,” Hugh said. “What exactly is new here? What's the context?”

“We'll build our story in relation to the questions surrounding Shikra's crash in London and the near disaster with EastCloud at LaGuardia,” Chuck said. “Whatever happened to this remote-control technology the president promised? Does it exist? Could it have helped, or could it have somehow been in play and abused by some criminal group? We'll come at the story fresh.”

“Why didn't we do this earlier?” Noah asked from London. “Why didn't we, or anyone else for that matter, pick up on this? I mean, there have been long-standing arguments in the aviation industry about the possibility of cyber hijacking, and conspiracy theories, all of these things.”

Chuck hesitated, glanced at Kate, thought for a moment.

“Besides,” Noah continued, “everyone here thinks Shikra was caused by a double engine failure due to an electrical malfunction arising from poor maintenance. Why is there such a desperate push for this odd angle? Is it because of the Zarathustra message Newslead received?”

“What Zarathustra message?” Hugh asked.

“All right, some background,” Chuck said. “This is confidential, but I'm not surprised that some of you know this. Newslead's aware of two threats, emails, by someone claiming responsibility for Shikra and EastCloud. The one Kate received after the EastCloud story broke was from someone identifying themselves as Zarathustra. They claimed responsibility and wanted us to do a story crediting them or they'd cause harm to another aircraft.”

No one spoke as Chuck provided more context on the Zarathustra and Kuwait emails. When he'd finished, silence followed.

“If you were already aware, fine,” Chuck said. “If you weren't, my apologies. We had to keep this tight. So consider yourself informed. None of this has been reported because the emails are unsubstantiated and we don't want to create alarm in the commercial airline industry. We've alerted the FBI, which is assessing them.”

Chuck paused, inviting any comments, before he continued.

“There's a strategic reason I want to proceed this way with this story.”

“Are you going to share that with us?” Hugh asked.

“Later. For now, we'll take this one step at a time and we will make no mention of the emails unless we have confirmation of their credibility. Any questions?”

None were voiced.

“All right, let's get busy.”

* * *

Kate drafted a list of sources and experts she intended to go to for the story. She reached out to Nick Varner at the FBI for any updates. There were none. She called the NTSB, the FAA, EastCloud, Richlon-Titan, Shikra and Talal Nasser, her source with Kuwait's Aviation Safety Department. Kate also called Erich, asking if he had any updates. He said he was working on it.

Soon, copy came in from London and Washington.

Noah Heatley's team filed chilling commentary from cyber experts from around the world claiming they could—in theory—hijack a jetliner remotely. Industry officials refuted those claims.

Yardley in Washington confirmed that Congress had approved five hundred million dollars for the fiscal year 2002 to go to the Transportation Department, to allow the air industry to fortify cockpit doors, ensure continuous operation of aircraft transponders in an emergency, and to provide “other innovative technologies to enhance aircraft security,” which many industry insiders interpreted as remote-control technology.

Working with Hugh, Kate interviewed leading aviation experts. She hit pay dirt when she reached Fred Winston, who headed an airline industry consulting firm in Los Angeles.

“That technology the president discussed evolved into the Continuous Autopilot System,” Winston told her. “It works like this—should the crew feel the plane is under threat of being hijacked physically, they throw a switch, allowing remote control of the plane by the ground, traffic control, which can remotely employ other auto features to land the plane safely. That system cannot be interrupted by anyone or anything in the cockpit or on the ground.”

“So what happened to the technology?” Kate asked.

“Several major airlines hold patents on variations of it,” Winston said. “But it was never applied, installed, or used in the commercial air industry.”

“Why not?”

“Safety issues,” Winston said. “Chief among them is the fear that somehow someone could hack the system—override and take control of a jetliner.”

“Could that happen?”

“I know a lot of experts might disagree, but I wouldn't rule out the possibility,” Winston said. “In fact, there were rumors that the military, which can control aircraft remotely, had also developed a top secret remote auto-control system for landing distressed commercial jets, but that it somehow got leaked, or was stolen, creating fears it had fallen into the wrong hands and would be used to crash airliners.”

“What?”

“That's the rumor, and many credible experts place it in the realm of conspiracy theories, so I don't know how you would confirm that.”

Taking careful notes, Kate talked with Winston for several more minutes before thanking him and ending the call.

Pen clamped in her teeth, she began typing up the significant points of her interviews. As she weaved in the copy coming to her from Hugh, Washington and London, her heart raced.

This is shaping up to be a hell of a story.

Thirty-Six

Manhattan, New York

K
ate's face swam in and out of focus on the big screens throughout CTNB's New York studio in the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle.

She was perched on a stool at the desk, shoulder-to-shoulder with two other panelists, Cal Marshall, a former NTSB investigator, and Stuart Shore, a retired commercial airline pilot, now an air security consultant.

“We're just four people discussing commercial air security,” said Reese Baker, the CTNB moderator, after glancing up from the monitor under the glass desktop. “Forget the cameras and talk to me like you're talking to neighbors over the back fence.”

“Twenty seconds, everyone!” a voice called out.

“Kate, that was a great article yesterday. Excellent.” Reese smiled.

Kate's story had explored the president's security promise of remote-control technology, but it had also raised the fear of its use against commercial airliners. She'd set it within the context of the Shikra crash at Heathrow and the EastCloud incident at LaGuardia.

Working closely with Chuck, and never mentioning the two threatening emails they believed were sent by Zarathustra, Kate had produced a nuanced article, a “situational,” on the theory that the two flights could have been targets of cyber hijacking. She'd backed it up with balanced, on-the-record comments from experts and built it on the president's pledge.

Let's see what happens,
Chuck had said.

Interest in the story had been strong, yielding a high level of pickup by subscribers across the US, in Europe, South America, the Middle East and Asia. It had prompted CTNB producers to request that Kate be a panelist the next day on
Beyond the Headlines
with Reese Baker.

The show's guests had gone through makeup and a sound level test; camera angles had been checked and set. The theme music played, seconds were counted down and the program went live.

“Good afternoon. Mystery still envelops the Shikra Airlines crash at Heathrow, which claimed fifteen lives, and the chilling close call with an EastCloud flight to New York's LaGuardia Airport. Could these two incidents be linked to potential hacking and a presidential promise to introduce remote-control technology in jetliners? That's the subject of today's panel. I'm Reese Baker and this is
Beyond the Headlines
.”

Reese turned from one camera and introduced a setup segment of CTNB news reports on the London and New York cases that ran for four minutes. When the producer threw it back to Reese, she introduced Cal Marshall, Stuart Shore and Kate.

“Let me take you back to September 27, 2001, two weeks after the terrorist attacks. President Bush, in a speech on aviation safety to air industry workers at O'Hare in Chicago, promised to introduce technology that would enable controllers on the ground—I'm quoting the president—‘to take over distressed aircraft and land it by remote control.' Stuart, I'll start with you. As a former commercial pilot and expert on airline security, does this technology exist?”

“Yes and no. Several airlines have the patents for it, but it hasn't been applied in the commercial airline industry. Military applications are another issue, with drones and other types of aircraft, but the technology we're talking about here, for commercial aircraft, is not employed today.”

“Cal, you're a former investigator with the NTSB, a highly qualified expert. Tell us, could this technology somehow have been developed surreptitiously and used to take control of the Shikra and EastCloud planes?”

“Reese, first I want to stress that at this time we don't know what happened in the cases of the Shikra and EastCloud flights. We're not privy to all the evidence, data and facts. Only the people investigating are. And I can assure you that these investigations are meticulous and they take time. To be honest, to theorize about them, sitting here with no information at a desk in your studio, is a fool's game.”

Reese smiled, acknowledging his point.

“Absolutely, but we're free to address the implications of the type of technology promised by the president.”

“Let's be clear,” Cal said. “The aim of the technology we're talking about is the safe landing of a troubled plane by remote control.”

“Could it conceivably make a plane ‘hijack-proof'?” Reese asked.

“If we're talking in-flight, then yes, I'd say it could,” Cal said.

“Could such technology be hacked?”

“No,” Cal said. “The design and the systems in aircraft make it impossible for a hacker to gain entry to the flight-management system to engage and control the aircraft. It's just not possible.”

“But Cal,” Stuart said, “you can't rule out all possibilities. If you could control a plane remotely from the ground, then your system is vulnerable to attack.”

The panel debated the subject until the show neared its end.

“I'm afraid we're running out of time,” Reese said. “I'd like to close with you, Kate. You touched on this with your story. Why has this technology not been put into use? Let's look at the Japanese airliner that disappeared over the Pacific a year ago, and the Argentine jetliner that crashed into the Andes. Some theories hold that they were hacked.”

“Well, in researching the story, we found a number of reasons why the system has not been installed.”

Kate explained that pilots had objected to it. In some cases, there were concerns that controllers couldn't see all that pilots see in the cockpit, which could create a hazard. There were arguments that the skies were too crowded to make remote navigation safe.

“And there's the fear that the system could be hacked?” Reese added.

“Yes, the fear that the system could be hacked was a major concern. However—” Kate looked directly to the camera “—while there are many conspiracy theories, claims and debates, there has yet to be a single confirmed case of a commercial aircraft being cyber hacked.”

“And that's our time,” Reese said. “Thank you all for joining us. News is next.”