Some Short Stories 2s416g

SOME SHORT STORIES

SPENCER SPAULDING

Copyright © 2017 by Spencer Spaulding.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017909461 ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-5434-2999-2

Softcover 978-1-5434-2998-5 eBook 978-1-5434-2997-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 06/14/2017

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CONTENTS

Lobo and the Spirit

Sister

Our Song

Wembly

Impact

Monkey Island

Lobo and the Spirit

Lobo and the Spirit

Quietly looking out the trailer’s kitchen window, Phil Norby gazed at the cloudless fall sky and the setting sun. The new gold letters that he had glued to the mailbox reflected the fading rays of the sun. That job was off his list and he felt good, knowing he had spent an extra two dollars for the thicker gold. “It will last a lifetime,” the hardware man had said.

Phil Norby was not a praying man, but he was acquainted with the Holy Spirit and had even felt His presence on several occasions. It had been a day much like today, and about the same time, when the Spirit had last come to visit. Phil called it the Spirit, but he knew from after-church Bible School that it was really the Holy Ghost, or the Holy Spirit. Phil found himself ing all the events relating to the Spirit and how he now, somewhat restlessly, awaited the next visit.

The first time he had become aware of the Spirit’s presence was a late spring afternoon, when Sunday school classes were being promoted. The church door had been left open to bring in the cooler air and dissipate the food smells from the halls. Traffic sounds from the nearby street had modulated the quiet proceedings within the sanctuary as the young offspring clutched their new Bibles, beaming at parents.

During the lull that simultaneously silenced both the traffic and the inside proceedings, the Spirit had appeared. Phil had felt the Presence and had known exactly where the Spirit was standing. He had been shapeless and invisible and had radiated a sense of contentment, with a faint trace of urgency. Before Phil could respond, the Spirit had left. No one else seemed to have noticed that brief manifestation of the Spirit.

Over a period of time, Phil had sensed that the Spirit was expecting more of a commitment from him. As the sexton, he took care of the church facilities and did all the outside work, and for this, he was provided a trailer on the back corner of the lot near the manse. The church budget carried a line item of seventy-five dollars a week for “sexton services.” The arrangement provided him with all that a fifty-five-year-old bachelor really needed, and he supplemented that with a small vegetable garden behind his trailer. What bothered Phil was the feeling that the Spirit expected a greater commitment of self, of soul. He somehow felt he was expected to give his life to the spreading of the Gospel and to the teaching of others. Phil had never learned to do that.

Some people taught that God was mean and that He would send you to Hell if your record was blemished, but Phil had tried to explain to them that God was not like that. Most of them had not believed him and had not taken him seriously. As a result, he had stopped trying to teach them or to change their ideas.

It had been a Sunday after-church services that Lobo had appeared. Phil had been eating dinner at a little table in the dining room end of his trailer, with the inner door open, when a faint scratching on the screen door had finally penetrated his thoughts. He had gone to the screen door, and there was a small gray dog, standing quietly, looking at him expectantly. Phil ed afterwards that he had known what the dog was thinking. He had opened the door, but the dog made no move to enter until Phil invited him inside.

No wonder his thoughts were on that incident today as he regarded his handiwork on the mailbox; the weather and the season were so reminiscent of that similar situation. Of course, Lobo no longer ruled the reaches under the table, though it sometimes seemed that his spirit was still there. That thought reminded him of the good days of Lobo’s tenure.

The dog’s coat was a mixture of gray and black hairs, which reinforced his wolfish features and general wolf like appearance. Phil suspected that he was a stray from some family camping over at the Lakeside Trailer park. When his call to the owner of the trailer park produced no response after two days, Phil had placed a “dog lost” ad in the local weekly. No one ever came to claim the vagrant. Phil decided to give him the name “Lobo.”

There had been other times in the past when the Spirit had appeared, but at no time did He seem happy with what He found in Phil’s soul. After a brief probing of Phil’s mind, the Spirit would leave. Those had been times when Lobo was not around. That was why, about a year ago, Phil had been surprised by Lobo’s reaction when the Spirit paid one of His unexpected visits. Standing at the sink, Phil sensed the Presence behind him. At first, he did not turn around, because he wanted not to alert Lobo, lying under the table. Somehow, he was able to read Lobo’s thoughts and knew that the dog was already aware of the Spirit. Phil had turned around slowly and noted that Lobo was looking at the exact spot where the Spirit was standing. Phil had been surprised that the dog corroborated the Spirit’s location.

Phil had felt the Spirit probing his mind and soul, and for a brief flash, he felt he was being accepted. Then, the Presence had hesitated and left. Phil had sensed Lobo’s surprise as he got up, walked over, and placed his head on Phil’s leg. Phil patted the dog lightly. Turning back to the sink and his work, Phil had said, “No matter, old pal, I’ll be ready for him next time.”

Lobo obviously had been trained by someone, but he still maintained a personality of his own. He had rarely made a sound of his own and always seemed to know what Phil was thinking. Whenever Phil happened to sense what Lobo was thinking, he found the dog expecting it and regarding Phil as a bit slow in becoming aware.

No human could ever be so loving and understanding as Lobo, who exuded

sheer joy just to be serving, whether it be the daily walk, chasing the ubiquitous squirrels, or just lying at Phil’s feet. Whenever Phil worked around the kitchen, Lobo lay quietly under the table, his chin on his paws, watching Phil’s every move.

A walk always had been a special occasion for the two. Lobo would run about in quick forays to the side, returning to the main path to urge Phil along, or just simply to check on his progress and choice of direction. Sometimes the dog would run ahead and jump up to gain a clear view of Phil, and then would go bouncing along, oblivious of everything except his play.

Lobo’s work had consisted of a daily sweep through the church at closing time. Phil knew that Lobo would detect anyone still around; that way, no one would be locked inside the building. The Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, diaconate, trustees, Ladies Auxiliary, and others used the building: there was some group at the church every night. Everyone loved Lobo, even the smallest child or the most squeamish female. Lobo’s diplomacy eased Phil’s nightly encounters with people who had overstayed their time. Often, Phil would leave him on his own, knowing people would look after him, and he would be back at the trailer for dinner, sometimes obviously fed.

It had been several months after the Spirit’s last appearance that Phil had taken a late night walk. He had tried to slip out without waking Lobo because the dog had not been feeling well. “Off his feed,” Phil had told the minister. But the squeaking door had awakened Lobo, who rolled to his feet, steadied himself, and wagged his tail. Phil had waited for him to come. It had been snowing and blowing and was bitterly cold. Phil had walked with his head down, scarf over his mouth and nose against the minus-thirty degree wind-chill factor. It was some time before he realized that Lobo was no longer with him. He had retraced his steps and found Lobo sitting, hunched against the wind.

Phil had known immediately that the dog had gone as far as he could, and was

exhausted and ill. He had carried him home inside his jacket and placed him under the table on his special rug. In the morning, Lobo was dead.

Now Phil stood looking out the window, ing and watching the sunset reflected from the new gold letters. He imagined that he heard Lobo’s faint scratching on the front door. Suddenly, he felt the presence of Lobo’s spirit, just outside the trailer door. He went to the door, inviting the spirit in. He followed the presence as it entered the trailer and took its place under the table. Phil wondered if the spirit had come to stay, or if was just a quick visit. Possibly, it was the Spirit, posing as Lobo.

His question was soon answered. Suddenly, the Spirit was in the kitchen also. Phil turned to face Him, knowing that this time, he would be accepted. The sense of approval was strong. Phil opened his arms, took a step, and embraced the Spirit.

Later that evening, when Phil did not appear to chase the minister from his study and lock up the church, the minister went in search of his sexton. He found him lying on the floor of his trailer, apparently dead.

The next day, the coroner called the minister with a report of the autopsy: a simple case of cardiac arrest. Sadly, the minister began to think about the funeral arrangements, knowing that he would have the service.

What could he say of someone like Phil Norby? Was he saved? Had he ever believed in the doctrines that circumscribed a Christian? Certainly, the Holy Spirit was beyond the range of concepts the man had dealt with. However, there could be no faulting the man’s dedication to the church and his loving care of the little dog who had befriended him. And little children had brought toys to his trailer to be fixed. There seemed to be nothing he could not repair, and the

children always played with Lobo while they waited. It would be difficult to replace Phil.

That thought jolted him into deeper appreciation of the man who had just died. Phil had always been there. That was it. No wonder they had never done anything special for Phil, he was just simply always there. Well, that’s tomorrow’s problem: a replacement.

The minister’s pondering ended with his writing the eulogy and finally deciding that Phil deserved the comfort of eternal salvation. He made a few notes for the funeral: “We mark today the ing of our friend and faithful servant, Phil Norby. Most of us hardly noticed Phil, caring for the church plant. But God was watching, and we can rejoice today in the salvation of our friend, and renew our faith in the resurrection and the life hereafter.”

Meanwhile, the late afternoon sun reflected off the gold letters on the mailbox and brightened the interior of the trailer. There was no one around to see the pellucid Presence peering out the window, or to hear the faint scratching on the screen door.

Sister

Sisters

Abigail Murray sat in the sun parlor at the home of her sister Ruth; well, her home now. It was a sunny Sunday morning, and the view out the picture window of the awakening spring greenery was inspiring and she felt content. Her view of the ocean off the shore and the beach of her Cape Cod home was one of the best views on the whole peninsula, and she spent many an hour enjoying it. She felt a slight twinge of something at the thought—things would be better if Ruth were here––and moved forward in her thinking to the needs of the day. Her thoughts were pulled back to the day she ed her sister in the big old house that was now hers.

Her sister, with her husband, Roger, had lived in that house for many years, while she had struggled to pay the rent for her little one-room apartment that represented a large chunk of her salary as the town librarian. Even after her brother-in-law died, her sister continued living alone. Abigail had stayed in her small apartment, visiting her sister often and helping her in many ways like housekeeping and shopping. It was quite a surprise to Abigail when her sister suggested that she move into the big house with her. At first, Abigail thought her sister just wanted a live-in maid. As time ed, she felt more like a companion for her sister, though she harbored doubts about her sister’s sincerity. It seemed that, more and more, Ruth sent her off on errands and became something of a recluse.

Abigail and her sister were identical twins, which in some ways, should have strengthened their bonds. Still, there was a lingering question that plagued Abigail. Had Ruth somehow tricked Roger into marrying her when Roger really wanted Abigail? Not that Roger had ever said so, but Abigail sensed his unspoken interest and felt cheated. So Ruth became Roger’s wife and lived with all the advantages while Abigail struggled along as a lonely librarian. Nonetheless, Abigail had accepted Ruth’s invitation to come and live with her

and put aside any lingering animosity.

It seemed only natural to them for Abigail to put on her sister’s clothes and do her banking and shopping for her. People never questioned her, and she had learned to sign her sister’s name to checks and credit card slips. It gave Abigail a sense of power to be able to commit such funds that were so much larger than she ever had been able to do on her own. She knew that her sister’s wealth, aside from the paid-up house, came from a large insurance policy her husband, Roger, had enforced when he died, and an annuity that came as a $2000-a-month automatic deposit in her Boston bank . That is, as long as Ruth lived, the annuity would be paid. She also knew that her sister’s will would leave Abigail the house and bank balance, should Ruth go before her. All things considered, Abigail somehow felt lucky for the way everything had turned out.

In spite of her wealth, Ruth had a penurious side that manifested itself with coupon clipping and mail ordering from big box stores to save money. Added to that, Ruth was always seeking sales and sending Abigail to purchase things they could have done without. Ruth often stated her mantra, “Never Pay Retail.”

Thinking of that mantra reminded Abigail of the day Ruth found the ad for saving on meat products by ordering a large freezer for their garage. The freezer company would then offer every month the bulk meat products that would come at great savings. Ruth insisted on having the freezer delivered in spite of Abigail’s pointing out the fact that they could never consume all the meat that would be required for the savings to match the cost of the freezer. Ruth had said, “We will just give the excess to a charity and take it off our income tax.” So the freezer was duly delivered, and Ruth began the ritual of ordering the meat and leaving to Abigail the problem of getting the excess to the food program charity and keeping track of the transactions for tax purposes. Soon, Abigail had grown to hate the chore, and she began thinking of all the errands she ran every week and realized that, like it or not, she really had become a servant.

Although Ruth had a wonderful car and money for travel and staying in firstclass lodgings, they never took a short vacation. Several times, Abigail had planned an excursion, and Ruth simply said it would be a waste of money. There was no thought of going without her sister since Abigail had no money unless she forged Ruth’s signature and that would have spoiled everything. Abigail had suffered in silence and remained unaware that her love had turned to hate and disgust. Looking back, she now realized how things had gone bad.

It had been a late spring day that the accident happened. Ruth was helping her unload the freezer of all the meat so Abigail could make a delivery. They had carried most of the meat out of the freezer and put it in the car. They had returned to the freezer to move the last side of lamb. They lifted the lamb from the freezer and started toward the car when Ruth said, “Wait, I want to close the freezer.” Abigail dropped the lamb and turned to help with the heavy freezer lid. She had watched in horror as Ruth, in too much of a hurry and losing her grip on the lid, fell into the freezer as the heavy lid closed with a thump. Abigail had never been able to lift the heavy lid without Ruth’s help, and the lid would not budge as she tried frantically to help her sister. She ran upstairs to get away from the muffled cries coming from the freezer. She had decided that she must go for help, but even as she searched for the keys, she had realized that there was no way to bring help soon enough. In the end, she had just sat in the parlor in a state of shock until she realized that she was now free to enjoy life as never before. She could be Ruth sometimes and Abigail other times. She could play the role so well that no one need ever know that Ruth was missing.

At first, Abigail had felt that she should do something about Ruth. Later, she came to understand there was nothing she could do for Ruth. The freezer continued to run, and Ruth’s body was presumably kept in a state that preserved her and kept any smell from being detectable. Even so, Abigail managed to find a padlock and lock the freezer so no visitor could open the cover out of curiosity.

Sitting in the sun parlor and ing the accident that had happened long ago, Abigail suddenly thought of the day the freezer technician had arrived and

wanted to run some tests on the freezer. He had explained that the tests were needed if the company were to maintain the warranty that Ruth had taken out when she bought the unit. Abigail had experienced a moment of panic and then pulled herself together. She had told the man that they no longer wanted the warranty. He needed Ruth to sign a waiver that withdrew the warranty. Abigail had taken the waiver upstairs, pretending to have Ruth sign it since she had explained to the man that Ruth was ill. Of course, she had signed Ruth’s name and easily got rid of the man. That close encounter had moved Abigail to think of all possible reasons people might want to open the freezer, and she developed ways to deal with any and all requests to open the box.

Even though she was confident she could deflect any request to open the box, she thought endlessly about ways to be rid of the freezer that wouldn’t arouse suspicion about Ruth. As long as the box was there, she couldn’t just take off on an extended tour and enjoy herself. She engaged a security company that wired the house and set alarms to detect intruders and alert the service to send a security officer to protect the property. This allowed Abigail to take a few days off and spend them at luxury hotels in Boston, but she longed for a real vacation, such as a month in Paris. As the years ed, she ranged farther and stayed longer, but life was not what she wanted. While reading her travel magazine, she came across an ad for a special week’s stay at the Queen Elizabeth hotel in Montreal. The price was very attractive—it would have met with Ruth’s approval—so Abigail called and set up a visit. She would alert the security people about her absence and take a shuttle bus to the Logan Airport in Boston. That way, she would not have the responsibility for the car and the cost of parking, though she chided herself for worrying at all about the cost.

Now she was at ease in her room at the top floor of the hotel, enjoying the view of the city and reflecting on the busy week she had spent. The visit had lived up to the ad’s promises, and she was quite ready to pack her bags and head home in the morning. As she watched the traffic below, it suddenly seemed as though the hotel had moved a bit. It was a strange feeling, but she realized that an earthquake had ed through Montreal and the building had flexed in the manner it had been designed to do. She turned on the television set and the screen displayed a flashing sign saying, “breaking news.” She read the words

that explained the situation. There had been a 7.6 earthquake off the coast of Iceland and the newscast showed all the damage in the city of Reykjavik. She watched for a while and was about to turn off the set when a news announcer came on and warned that a huge tsunami was rushing across the North Atlantic toward Boston. People were warned to move away from the coastline to higher ground. Abigail’s first impulse was to call the airline and arrange an earlier flight so she could be home before flights into Boston were canceled. After thinking about the likely effect of such a tsunami, she realized that, in all probability, her house would be gone. Her next thought was about the freezer. What if it turned up somewhere in the pile of debris that would ultimately litter the Cape once the great wave had spent itself on land? The thought that someone might find and open the freezer terrified her.

The next few days, Abigail was glued to the television. Every station was on the story, showing pictures of the giant wave, and later, all the debris that littered the landscape. The National Guard was activated, and their patrols were keeping people away. Abigail realized she would not be allowed to check on her house, which probably was no longer there, and she was very concerned about the freezer. She couldn’t sleep with various scenarios involving discovery of the freezer running through her head.

Abigail had spent much time thinking of the past, but now, she must concentrate on dealing with a real-time situation. Thinking that the freezer company probably had many participating customers on the Cape, she decided to them. After tracking down their phone number, she placed a call and a man’s voice responded, asking, “How may I help you?” She explained who she was and told the man that she was worried about her freezer because she had placed some valuable heirlooms in the freezer for safekeeping. She added that that unit was padlocked. The man told her that the unit would not float if it contained more than one hundred pounds. Chances are that it was swept out to sea and promptly sank. The man said their company was on the list to start a search of the length of the Cape, looking for any surviving units. If hers was found, they would immediately call her. Abigail knew that Ruth weighed about one hundred and fifty pounds. If the unit was not found on land, she could safely assume no one would ever find any trace of the freezer. A few days later, she received the

phone call from the freezer man. After a thorough search of the Cape, he had found three freezers, but none of them were hers. He knew this from the serial numbers on the units and the lack of a padlock.

Upon hearing the news, Abigail collapsed into a chair and became very lightheaded. Then she realized she had been under severe tension for the last few weeks, even though she had extended her stay in Montreal and tried to relax and enjoy all the amenities of the very upscale hotel, but the freezer issue had been the elephant in the parlor. Now the elephant was gone, and she could begin to plan a wonderful future. First thing was the insurance on the house. That would be a nice sum of money. The insurance only covered the house, not the lot. She would a realtor and sell the lot. She would also call the insurance company and file a claim. After that, she could go wherever she fancied. She had a choice. She could be Abigail or Ruth. Actually, it would have to be Ruth.

When planning her trip to Montreal, she had brought with her Ruth’s port since she had never obtained one for herself. All documentation for the trip she had placed in Ruth’s name, even all the travelers’ checks she had bought from the local bank, which was probably no longer there. No matter, being Ruth was better anyway. Abigail decided it was time to take that cruise ship trip she had longed for, so she went to the travel desk in the hotel lobby and arranged the trip. The ship sailed from New York City, so she would first fly to New York. The earliest cruise booking available was a week away and Abigail, a.k.a Ruth, planned to go to New York and see the sights there before the cruise. She went to her room to pack and notified the desk of her planned departure.

The next morning, she was up early and out to the airport. She wore her slippers so the shoe-shedding thing would go quickly, although she had been told that most countries no longer required travelers to take off their shoes when going through the security checks before boarding. She still had her medicines in a separate plastic bag, so they could be easily inspected.

After arriving at the airport, she hurried to the boarding kiosk and had her boarding printed out. Then she ed the line of people waiting to enter the security checking area. Next, she waited in line for the desk, at which her ID and boarding were checked. When it was her turn, she used her port (Ruth’s port, actually) for identification. Then she proceeded to the rest of her security screening. She took one of the carrier baskets and placed all the required items in it and pushed it onto the conveyor belt that took it into the x-ray detector.

She walked deliberately through the metal detector and moved to pick up her items. She was surprised when one of the officers took her by the arm and said, “Please step over here madam.” He took her over to a desk and explained, “We have instituted a new procedure that involves random fingerprinting. It has been activated worldwide, based on the idea that potential terrorists travel to suspect countries more than most people, so the theory is that fingerprinting may help keep track of some of the most active suspects. So, please roll your fingers, one at a time, on the ink pad, and place them on the sheet next to the pad.”

Abigail had a brief moment of panic, but then told herself not to worry since Ruth probably never had her fingerprints recorded. Besides, they were identical twins, and their prints must be the same. As she completed the printing as requested, the guard said, “I’ll need you to wait a moment or two. We fax these prints to a world-central database for recording and checking for any discrepancies. Since you used your port as your identification, I have asked that the system check your port file as well.” As they waited, a message came up on the screen. The guard studied the message and turned to Abigail. “There seems to be a problem, ma’am. Your prints do not match the prints on the application for your port.”

Abigail was quick to offer an explanation. “My sister helped me with the application. My arm had been broken and it was in a sling, so she did the fingerprinting for me. Since we are identical twins, they should be the same.”

The guard laughed and said, “That’s a common misconception. Actually, they are different. However, we will need an affidavit signed by your sister to certify that she helped you with the application. By any chance, is she with you or at least here in Montreal, so she could be here soon?”

After Abigail, as Ruth, said that her sister was still at the hotel and could easily take a taxi, the officer told her to have her sister come quickly so she (Abigail, as Ruth) would not miss her flight. Then he said, “Have her come to my office right over there and we can expedite this matter. We will need her ID and signature. What did you say her name is?” \

Abigail (as Ruth) said her sister’s name would be Abigail, and they were really look-alike twins. Then she told the officer she must go back and have something to eat. She was feeling weak because she had missed breakfast. The officer gave her a card that would let her sister into his office through a special entrance that byed security, and he reminded her that she would need to reenter through the whole security process when she finished eating.

Abigail, as Ruth, had gone to a quiet bench and pretended to call “Abigail.” She pretended to instruct her sister where to meet so she could give her the card to expedite her affidavit. Then she went to the nearest restroom and used her carryon to change clothing. Using excessive makeup, she tried to alter her looks enough to fool the security officer into thinking he was dealing with the twin sister of the woman who had just left. Just in case, Abigail, (now as Abigail), took out the pieces of her own ID that she always kept with her. She checked her own driver’s license to be sure she had matched the hair arrangement and makeup pictured there. She waited enough time to allow for her “sister” to arrive by cab. Then, using the card the officer had given her, she went to the special security entrance and directly to the office that the officer had indicated.

The officer asked for her ID, such as a driver’s license, which she had, and then he asked her to sign the affidavit. Abigail, as Abigail, signed the affidavit, stating

that she, Abigail Murray, had assisted her sister in obtaining a port by doing the fingerprint inking onto the port application. The officer seemed content with the procedure and asked about Ruth’s whereabouts. Abigail, as Abigail, explained that her sister was waiting outside security for her and a bite of lunch. Abigail then left to return to the café where she had left her carry-on bag under the watchful eye of her teenaged waiter, having told him she urgently needed the restroom and would be right back. Of course, as Abigail, arriving to perform the affidavit, she would have no bag. He was happy to see her return, having heard the loudspeaker announcements about bags left unattended. She rewarded him with a smile and a generous tip.

Abigail then returned to the restroom to redo her makeup and clothing to become recognizable as “Ruth.” Upon reaching security, she showed her “Ruth” ID and boarding and loudly inquired, in a complaining manner, about the necessity of subjecting herself to the screening again. She was told it would be necessary to complete all aspects of the screening since she had taken her bag with her. She proceeded confidently, having thus assuaged the curiosity of any screening officers who might’ve wondered about seeing her again. She collected her items that came through the X-ray machine and made a slow and deliberate exit from the area. She noticed the fingerprint man giving her a wave, so she waved back and threw him a bright smile. Only then did she hurry along to catch her flight.

******

Later, as the flight gained altitude and the flight attendants began to serve, Ruth (she was now Ruth) ordered a drink and began to relax. She wanted to enjoy this trip to the fullest. She thought ahead about the wonderful cruise she had booked and was planning to board as soon as she reached the pier in New York City. The around-the-world cruise she had chosen was frightfully expensive, but she had convinced herself that just this once, she deserved the rest and enjoyment. From her window seat, she watched the coastline below slip slowly northward. Emotionally exhausted by the fingerprint ordeal, she fell asleep.

Suddenly, she was awakened by the ripple of excitement that swept through the first-class cabin. She glanced out the window and saw the source of the excitement. They had arrived at New York City. One of the World Trade Center towers was on fire, Thick, black smoke streamed from the upper floors. The captain’s voice came over the sound system. “Everyone please remain seated. If you would like to take a picture of the fire, please your camera to the window seat occupant and ask them to take the picture for you. I have asked air traffic control for permission to alter our approach so people on the left side of the aircraft can take pictures as we fly close by the building. We will then swing around on a return so people on the right side will have their chance.”

Ruth watched out her window. The person next to her ed her someone’s camera, and she went about taking a picture of the tower. As she looked through the camera at the image display, she realized that the pilot was a man of his word. They would by the building at very close range. This thought was closely followed by the horror that swept over her. They were going to hit the other tower of the World Trade Center.

Our Song

Our Song

Ken sat impatiently in the hospital waiting room. He wondered what could possibly be taking so long. Since the doctor had diagnosed his wife’s ovarian cancer, life had been pretty much a blur. Now he was waiting to have the doctor come into the waiting room and tell him how bad things were. The doctor had already told them there could be no more children. This operation would take care of that. The question would be whether the cancer had spread to other organs.

Suddenly, the doctor entered the room. He spotted Ken and came directly to him. They shook hands, and the doctor spoke abruptly, “I’m terribly sorry. There is that spot on Joan’s liver that I couldn’t possibly remove. Your wife is in the recovery room.” With that, the doctor turned and left.

Ken was shocked at the doctor’s behavior, but he put it down to the doctor’s being upset and frustrated. He went over to the information desk and asked if it would be okay to go to his wife in recovery. The nurse told him that he was encouraged to bring comfort to his wife, but not to expect very much from her for at least an hour. Her caution proved to be prescient. It was about fifty minutes later that Joan opened her eyes and smiled at Ken.

Later, after Joan had been wheeled back to her room, Ken had to tell her the bad news about her liver. Joan wept quietly as Ken tried to reassure her about the future. They had been somewhat prepared for the bad news even before the operation was scheduled. The doctor had told them about a new chemotherapy that was being tried on cases where the ovarian cancer had metastasized to another organ. Now it seemed their only hope. After her release from the hospital, Joan planned to set up the schedule for the weekly one-hour IV sessions

to receive the chemotherapy. The treatment would take six months to complete. That was the limit on using the drug. After that, she would just have to wait and see. She knew that her hair would probably fall out from the treatment, regardless of the course of the disease. Ken had promised to buy her a wonderful wig to substitute for her cherished tresses. He had made it sound really special by referring to the wig shop as the Peruke Shop.

A few days later, Joan was released from the hospital and allowed to go home. She joked with Ken that it was a first, going home without a baby. They had a lovely daughter named Martha. But suddenly, it was not a joke, as they both realized there would be no more trips home with a baby. The rest of the trip home was spent in silence. Their daughter Martha was in school, but their neighbor saw their car and came running over to hug Joan as the two of them wept.

Later in the day, Martha came home from school. She had wanted to go to the hospital with her father, but he had insisted that she not miss school. Actually, he just wanted to have time with Joan alone and ease her transition back into the new life centered on her treatments and working around what would be some sick days and adjusting to Joan’s wig. Martha ran to her mother and held her in a long embrace.

“It’s so good to have you home, Mom. I know you will need the chemo, but you will get better, won’t you?”

Joan looked to Ken for guidance. Ken had already decided that Martha should have the truth about Joan’s future, as best anyone could predict it. He put his arm around Martha and, choking back his tears, he said,” Honey, the doctor said they have had good results with this treatment, but there is no guarantee.”

Martha went over and hugged her mom, saying, “Then we’ll hope for the best.”

******

The next few days seemed to go by swiftly. Joan had a lot of catching up to do. There were many phone calls to friends, a visit from her church group, and long discussions with Martha about the future and her relationship with her new boyfriend and the importance of starting college. Soon it was time for Joan’s first chemo treatment. Ken accompanied Joan to the hospital room. The nurse attached the IV probe to Joan’s arm, and then attached the bottle containing the chemo to the IV with the plastic tubing. She explained to Joan that it would take about two hours for the medicine to work its way into Joan’s arm. Then the nurse left Joan and Joan tuned her little portable radio to her favorite program. As much as she usually enjoyed the program, she couldn’t keep her mind from wandering over to thinking about her cancer and what would happen if the chemo should fail. Joan realized that she must discipline her mind and force her thoughts to deal with the time given to her, and spend the days in love for Martha and Ken, and the sheer joy of being alive. What fun, to surprise her friends with new hairdos and changed colors. She almost convinced herself that she wanted her hair to fall out so she could get started. Her musing was interrupted by the nurse’s return. The two hours had swiftly ed, and the chemo session was over.

******

That evening, Joan did not feel well and she skipped dinner and went to bed early. Ken knew that she would feel even worse in the morning and probably all day. As her body adjusted to the treatments, the reactions should become less severe. Even so, Ken knew that they were in for some difficult times. A few days later, Joan accepted an invitation from their neighbor to continue with their monthly bridge game. She assured Ken that she would be feeling well enough to spend an evening with friends. Ken was apprehensive, but knew that an evening

with friends would be helpful for Joan’s morale if her condition allowed it. Since the venue for their games rotated successively and Joan had taken her turn before her operation, she would not have any hostess duties this time. She felt she could manage the outing quite well.

As it turned out, Joan and Ken did very well at the bridge game. Joan later wondered if there had maybe been some well-meaning help from their friends, since the usual cutthroat competitive flavor of the bidding had been missing. All in all, Joan felt very happy with the evening.

The first week turned out to be a pattern for the rest of Joan’s treatment. There were the days of treatment, followed by the days of illness, all followed by a few days of enjoying friends and life in general. Joan longed for a chance to get away for a few days and stay at a good hotel and see a play or something, and Ken was very understanding and creative in planning their activities, but Joan looked ahead to completing her treatments. The days of sickness did seem to abate somewhat, and her hair began to fall out. Finally, the day came when Ken insisted that Joan have her hair cut short. She looked so strange that she regretted allowing Ken’s talking her into it. She felt better when Ken told her about her appointment at the wig shop. They went directly there, and Joan selected two wigs of the same style but different colors. Ken suggested that she get two styles, each of a different color, so she could play at being two different people. At the time, Joan felt Ken was being silly, but later, she really enjoyed acting the lighthearted person whose treatments would be a cure or, at least, bring about some remission.

The weeks seemed to fly past quickly and soon, it was time for Joan’s last treatment. Her hair had all fallen out, but her post-treatment sickness was less prolonged and not so violent. She was able to do more and enjoy life for a change. Martha had been accepted at the small New England college she had selected. She had grown into a serious relationship with her boyfriend, but they both agreed to complete college before they made any plans for marriage.

Meanwhile, Ken had been busy installing a powered lift that would ride upon a rail installed along the stairway. It would provide a means for Joan to ride up and down the stairs. She had experienced some difficulty in climbing the steep stairs to the bedroom level. Ken had wanted to remake his den into a first-floor bedroom, but Joan insisted on doing the stairs. Ken had seen an ad for the lift and had insisted on buying one and installing it himself. He still had to add a few finishing touches before it could be used. He decided to dedicate a Saturday to finishing the job, and by Saturday night, the lift was ready for use.

Martha had invited Ralph, her boyfriend, for dinner that night, and they planned to eat early and then be off to a movie. Joan had purchased filet mignon steaks for everyone, and Ken officiated at the grill. After the crème brulee, the young folks were off to the movie. When Joan remained at the dinner table, Ken became concerned.

“Are you okay, honey?” he asked.

Joan said quietly, “I think it’s time to try out your lift.”

Later, lying in bed in her favorite pajamas, Joan managed a weak smile. Ken held her hand anxiously. Joan looked directly at him, saying, “Would you please sing me our song?” Ken felt somewhat surprised and self-conscious, but began to softly sing the words. “I’ll be loving you, always, with a love that’s true, always.”

Ken felt Joan’s hands tighten as he sang. Ken finished his singing and they sat for some time in silence. Their silence was finally ended when Joan asked, “Would you please call the doctor? He asked that I call him at home when it was time.”

Ken called the number they kept ready by the phone and ed the doctor had said that Joan would know when to call. The doctor answered promptly and asked to speak to Joan. After Joan had answered his few questions about her condition, he told her he was sending an ambulance and would call the hospital to have her itted. It seemed to Ken that things happened fast after Joan hung up and began getting her things together for a hospital stay.

Later, after Joan was loaded into the ambulance, Ken wrote a note for Martha explaining the trip to the hospital, and then went to his car and followed the ambulance and helped to see Joan itted. After Joan was settled in bed in her single room, the doctor came in to examine her. After a brief discussion with Joan, the doctor indicated to Ken that they should exit the room and talk privately. Once outside the room, the doctor told Ken that Joan would most likely require heavy doses of narcotics to deal with the pain that was certain to begin soon. He told Ken, in effect, to say his goodbye to the rapidly failing Joan.

Ken returned to the room where Joan had waved discreetly at him as he and the doctor had left. She was sleeping soundly. The doctor had previously supervised the nurse as she istered the narcotic that would ease Joan’s pain. Ken knew that Joan would be in a deep sleep for some time, so he gathered up his things and set out for home.

******

When Ken reached home, he entered the house with as little noise as he could manage, thinking that Martha might be home and sleeping. He found that his precautions were unnecessary when Martha opened her bedroom door and spoke, “How’s Mom doing? Any chance she will be home soon?”

Ken had been dreading this moment. He turned to face her and said softly, “Your mother’s not coming home, honey.”

Martha stood frozen, a strange look on her face. She said, “Oh, Daddy, I am so sorry,” as she threw herself into his arms, sobbing. Ken held her gingerly, but none of his efforts seemed to console her. Finally, she settled down and released her grip on Ken. He spoke softly, “She is without pain and sleeping now. Let us her that way.” He then lifted her chin and kissed her tear-stained cheek.

Wembly

Wembly 1948

What started as a roar of approval from the seventy thousand seated fans turned suddenly to loud booing as the American Lacrosse Team entered Wembly stadium. The undefeated Trinity Institute team from the United States, wearing warm-up pants over their now-legendary short shorts, was tearing up the track and pitch with the mud cleats on their shoes, chosen because of the light rain. For the first Olympic Games since 1936, the officials had decided to include a demonstration game of this growing sport, and they were shocked at the hostile reception the booing crowd presented. The American coach was quick to respond, whistling his players back to the locker room. There he told the Olympic official that the game was off because of the booing. When the official explained that the crowd was complaining about the destruction of the pitch by the mud cleats, the coach was quick to switch the team footwear to sneakers, reminding the grumbling players that the British would face the same handicap of slippery shoes on wet grass. The team returned to the field amidst cheers of approval.

The captain led the first string out to playing positions. The game commenced with the two centers facing one another at center field with the ball trapped between their opposing sticks, back to back on the ground. This differed from hockey where the referee tosses the puck into the opposing sticks. At the whistle, the centers commence the struggle for possession of the ball in a process called the faceoff.

The American center won the first faceoff, and a British player intercepted the first . It quickly became clear that the British were adept at accurate ing and thereby minimizing any need to rely on traction with the wet grass. In the eleven games at Manchester, Oxford, Cambridge, and London leading up to Wembly, they had tried to match the physical game of the Americans and had lost all the games. Their changing to a clever ing game quickly netted them

a goal. The American captain called a timeout and gathered his teammates for a strategy conference. Their coach ed the huddle and was surprised to hear the captain calling for a play-the-ball strategy. He told the team that it would be best to play a tight man-on-man game and tie up the ers with close body checking. The captain objected, saying that it was important to intercept es rather than wrestle with players holding the ball. The players were used to such disagreements, but they were surprised to hear the coach agree and change his orders. The captain reinforced the call and led the team back out onto the field.

The game quickly changed timbre, with the Americans intercepting es and moving the ball quickly to the point attack players, scoring three unanswered goals. The British captain called time out and pulled his team together for a strategy session. The game resumed with the British shortening their es and using bounce es difficult for the Americans to intercept. The crowd gave vocal to the British players and polite applause to recognize any American outstanding play.

The crowd seemed to warm up to the sport that few of them had ever seen, since lacrosse was played mostly at clubs in England. Suddenly, it was half time and both teams needed a rest. The teams retreated to their respective locker rooms for strategy planning and motivational speeches. The American coach emphasized the chance to end the season undefeated. What a triumph for their school to have an undefeated season to its credit. The captain suggested that it was more important for everyone to have a chance to play in an Olympic game. That could mean using less-experienced players and risking the loss of the game. This difference would flare up later in the game. The teams returned to the field of play.

The British team changed tactics, keeping the ball away from the net and drawing the defense down field. They suddenly ran a man behind the defense and a quick netted a goal. They were able to run this ruse for three goals. The game settled down to a series of struggles over loose balls with neither team gaining any advantage of possession. It seemed that the British were beating the

Americans at their own game. The third quarter ended with no more scoring and the British leading by a single goal.

The American captain called for time out to confer with his coach. He made the point that the players sitting on the bench would be the backbone of the next year’s varsity since the first team would be graduating. All those players had ed the team all year, and they all deserved the right to say they had played at Wembly. The coach was still more concerned with winning and being undefeated. He insisted that the first team stay in and make every effort to win. He said that he could never explain a loss that resulted from pulling the first team players and letting everyone else play. The captain stubbornly insisted that every player had earned the right to be able to claim participation in an Olympic game. He finally said to the coach that he personally did not want to play anymore and asked to be pulled from the game and let some other player take over. The coach was convinced that the captain was sincere about the wisdom of letting everyone play at Wembly. The coach capitulated and gave the captain permission to use the players as he chose.

The captain benched the first string and sent in the second-string players. The game speeded up with the fresh players quickly taking over possession of the ground balls and peppering the British goalie with attempts to score, but the goalie was able to stop every attempt. The game settled down with the ball being moved back and forth from one goal attempt to another.

The second-team American players were rested and stronger than the British and they controlled the ball. This gave them more shot opportunities, but the British goalie was impenetrable, saving one attack after another. The game clock ran down to less than a minute left to play. An American defenseman managed to scoop up the ball and race downfield, as he had done several times before. Normally, he would the ball to an attack player who would be more adept at scoring. Instead, he threw the ball with all his strength at the goal. The goalie was not expecting such a move and was just a split second behind in reaching for the ball. The game was tied as the final whistle blew. The teams lined up single-

file and moved past one another. Each player shook the hand of every opponent with a genuine feeling of respect and sportsmanship. They were, after all, Olympians.

Later, as the team excitedly celebrated in the locker room, the coach whistled for quiet so he could make his final speech of the season. The coach had been a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force, seconded to the RAF during WWII, and he had flown his share of the famous Spitfire aircraft in defense of England so his players knew his sincerity as he congratulated the British for holding the powerful American team to a tie. He thanked his team for delivering an undefeated season, saying that such an accomplishment would look great on his resumé, though he wouldn’t be looking for a job any time soon. Next, he thanked the captain for taking over the game and having the determination that enabled all the players to be able to boast about playing at Wembly. All in all, he said, “I can’t think of a better scenario for ending a season.” Then he said everyone was invited to a dance with refreshments at the field house, and they should hurry over there and enjoy. He then added that a drink or two would be allowed since the season was over, and it was time to celebrate with their British friends.

Later, after all the other players had dressed and gone, the coach called to the captain to stay behind. He then asked the captain if he would have refused to finish playing the game if he, the coach, had requested him to go back in. The captain did not hesitate. He said, simply, “You’re the coach.” The coach smiled and said that he was glad of that, and he would need an assistant coach for the next season and hoped the captain would accept the offer. Since the captain would be returning for graduate work, he was very happy to accept the offer. Coach took his assistant by the arm and said, “Let’s the party.”

Impact

Impact

Bud Sherman stood at his work station, looking over the room covered with other displays and work stations. It was crunch time. The product of his last three years of work was about to crash into the moon. Loaded with six television cameras aimed at sending back detailed pictures of potential landing sites for the Apollo program, the craft was uniquely designed to complete its mission before impact with the moon. His own career rode on the success of this mission. Due to a recent spate of lunar probe failures, the pressure was on to have a resounding success. Every possible reliability feature had been built into the spacecraft. Well, maybe not all.

The camera contractor had wanted to use a clock as the sole means to turn on the camera subsystem. Bud had refused to allow any part of the system to be out of the control of the NASA ground station. Now he felt an uneasiness as he watched the telemetry data from the spacecraft being displayed in front of him. Things were going too well. The system had inadvertently been turned on during launch. A large electrical pulse that occurred at first-stage rocket separation had activated the electronics that were normally turned on only by radio command sent to the craft by ground control. Quick action by the launch control officer had turned off the system. Having the cameras turned on at the higher launch altitudes, during launch, might allow electrical arcing of the high voltages in the cameras. Thus overloaded, camera electronics might well have been destroyed.

George Simmons, the project manager at the contractor for the camera subsystem, had looked at the telemetry sent during the brief catastrophic launch incident. He had sadly shaken his head and avowed that the cameras were all dead, completely burned out. Bud had cautioned George to remain silent since careers were on the line if this probe failed after so much effort on reliability. George had been quick to remind Bud that there had been no contract specification for the cameras to survive being turned on during launch. He had

also pointed out that the clock scheme that Bud had nixed would have protected the system camera against such an occurrence. Bud had to it that George’s idea to make inadvertent turning on of the cameras impossible had considerable merit. Now, with the launch incident on the record, Bud was glad that the files had been purged and all record of George’s proposal had been erased. Bud was really sorry that George had gone ahead without approval and purchased some clocks and tested them. George had also extended the test requirements on the telemetry transmitter to prove it could maintain full power for a longer time. Such a change would have been necessary because of the uncertainty in the arrival time of the spacecraft at the moon at the point of clock setting during the launch countdown. All that data had been requested from the contractor and delivered with the spacecraft. Bud hoped it was a closed issue and that the mission would be a complete success.

These thoughts were on Bud’s mind as he looked at the mission clock on the far wall. Only thirty seconds to the mission milestone for pushing the button that would send the command to the spacecraft and turn on the cameras for the first test of their viability. Bud was thinking about the launch incident and the fact that the brief telemetry received during the turn-on had not given a clear indication of the state of the cameras. Maybe all would be okay. As he reached for the command button, he noticed that his hand was trembling slightly. Looking out across the floor, he saw everyone watching their screens intently, waiting for the first close-up pictures of the moon.

******

George Simmons was driving to the desert location of the ground station that would be receiving the signals from the moon. It would be here that he could view the pictures being sent from the spacecraft about to impact the moon. George had a sinking feeling that there would be no pictures, and he wanted to be able to get away from people if that occurred. He was thinking back to one particular test made during the development of the camera package. It had been a test in the vacuum chamber. The cameras had been turned on by mistake before

the proper vacuum had been achieved, much like the launch incident. George ed what the telemetry data had shown about the cameras during that test failure. He had seen the telemetry data from the launch incident and it made his blood run cold. What a colossal failure! All because NASA insisted on having radio control of the cameras, instead of trusting the control to a timer. Well, too late for that. George saw the large antennas of the ground station looming in the distance and told himself that everyone would soon know the answer.

******

After arriving at the gate and showing his credentials, George parked and went directly to the work station reserved for the camera project manager. The atmosphere was too tense for casual greetings. George scanned the display and saw that the command to activate the cameras had been sent. When the few seconds required for signal travel had ed and the screen still showed no video, George knew the worst. He brought up the telemetry signals, and what he saw there confirmed his dark thoughts. He left the station and set out on the long drive to Vegas where he could forget his crushing disappointment.

As he drove along the desert highway, he could not stop thinking about the problem and started deg ways to protect against the launch incident. They had built four spacecraft so changes could be made to the remaining three. More launches had been scheduled, although now there would be a thorough investigation before any subsequent launch would be approved. George thought of two different circuit changes that would solve the problem of turning on during launch. He was confident that he would be called to participate in the inevitable review to find what went wrong during the mission. If so, he vowed, he would not raise the issue of the clock that he once sponsored. No sense irritating the customer. He would be proactive and suggest ways to fix the problem. Maybe the solution would be just using the clock to activate the radio reception.

George planned to call home and tell his wife the bad news. Better she hear it from him than the evening news. That way, he could reassure her that he was okay and not too distressed. All in the game would be his attitude. As he drove along, he mused that it was strange how the desert had a calming and soothing effect. The failure hurt, but he turned his thoughts to the future. Next time, they would get those high-resolution pictures of the moon.

Monkey Island

Monkey Island

Colonel Chaudry surveyed the monitor screen before him and decided the area around his responsibility was free from any threats. He was charged with the safety of Monkey Island. The name had been chosen to disguise the real purpose of the installation. The real purpose of the installation was the safe storage of all the nuclear weapons that the country of India possessed. To that end, the facility had been built underground with lots of concrete protection. The defense unit responsible for maintaining the complex had encouraged the rumor that the highly secret place was actually a chemical weapons development facility and the products were tested on monkeys. The official name of Monkey Island had been chosen to be totally unrelated to nuclear weapons, and the management had done nothing to discourage the rumor about the monkey testing.

The area had been ringed with several batteries of the latest ground-to-air defensive missiles. Further away was another ring of interceptor missiles and air strips capable of launching the latest technology in interceptor aircraft that could be sent up to examine any approaching aircraft. Scattered throughout the area were several powerful radar transmitters of the latest technology, capable of detecting stealth bombers. The colonel felt confident that no aircraft could get anywhere near the site that held the country’s stored nuclear weapons.

India had decided to store all its warheads in one location in order to better maintain control over the weapons. Also, they had only a few dozen nuclear warheads, and it seemed best to concentrate them and build one credibly safe installation. They had not built the unnecessary thousands of nuclear warheads like the United States, so storing them in a plurality of sites was not necessary. Also, such sites were extremely costly to build and maintain and were strategic targets in themselves. Colonel Chaudry thought that, short of a fifty-megaton attacking warhead, his facility was impregnable. Yes, he thought, it would take a real bunker-buster bomb to cause any serious damage to Monkey Island and

some very unusual tactics to deliver any such weapon.

******

Bill Monroe waited patiently to the stream of engers disembarking from the British Airways London flight to Mumbai, India. The large Boeing 777 aircraft could hold over four hundred engers, so the unloading could take some time. Bill was thinking that the load hitting Immigration and Customs would create even more delay. He read his recently purchased book of poetry while he waited in the slowly moving line. When he finally cleared the official welcoming officers, he looked around for anyone who might be meeting him. He saw a sign with his name on it being held high by Raj, a colleague from the communications satellite control center a few miles outside of town. Bill had helped establish the center a few years earlier because the center monitored data radioed up to the satellites from commercial aircraft operating in the South Asian region. In particular, he was interested in data that was telemetered from Boeing aircraft because he was responsible for aircraft performance and safety of all the Boeing aircraft in commercial service in that area. The data involved was sent from the aircraft by special radio equipment that Boeing had installed in every aircraft delivered for commercial use. This equipment was capable of sending signals directly to the synchronous satellite owned and operated by the Intelsat group of countries established by treaties to provide world- wide communications links. The data sent enabled the Boeing engineers at the control center to monitor engine performance as well as a number of other safety and performance parameters such as temperatures, pressures and fuel usage.

Bill had worked for many years at the Boeing facility in Seattle, Washington. He had been responsible for the performance and safety of a long line of commercial aircraft in his career, including the latest wide-body 777. As this last aircraft rolled out into commercial service, Bill had been assigned to the London office as a base from which he provided to the satellite center outside Mumbai, India. That is the center that tracked all commercial flights in the Southeast Asia region and relayed data to all the airlines operating in that theater.

Bill and his wife, Janet, lived in a luxurious flat near Heathrow airport in London. They were socially active and often they were invited to various embassy functions at the American embassy and those of other countries. The people in attendance at these parties were all jet-set travelers and were eager to question someone like Bill who was familiar with the issues that concerned longdistance flyers. In return, Bill met many influential citizens who had some say in the choice of aircraft their country’s airlines decided to buy. Bill was always a good ambassador for his employer. Janet kept herself busy with the distaff side of their party encounters, providing the latest news and fashions of the United States. She also had formed a women’s group for wives of pilots based in London. This group sponsored social gatherings and companionship for its to help fill in the long hours when husbands were away on the long flights to India, Indo China, and Australia.

The day before Bill’s sudden trip to Mumbai, the East Asia flight 703 from Kuala Lumpur headed to Beijing had been hijacked by parties unknown. Since the plane involved was a Boeing 777, Bill had been seconded to the satellite center to help interpret any data that the aircraft might relay up to the satellites that were hovering out in space in synchronous orbit. Bill was anxious to get to the station and catch up on the situation. He had just cleared Customs when he spied Raj and his sign. Bill moved to his friend. After a greeting befitting their friendship and the time since they had last worked together, Bill asked Raj about the hijacking. It seemed that the plane had turned away from its normal course and was headed out over the Indian Ocean. Bill was anxious to review any data that may have been gathered about the flight, so he urged Raj to take him directly to the center.

An hour later, they arrived at the isolated facility that included the three large antennas that constantly tracked the three satellites dedicated to relaying the aircraft in-flight data. Nearby was the building housing the offices and dormitories of the operating personnel. Bill would be staying here for as long as necessary until the hijacking was resolved.

After greeting the on-duty engineers, Bill move to his assigned desk, which already contained the records and other information about the flight he had requested during their drive from the airport. He used the standard charts for estimating the weight being carried by the plane. That involved using the enger manifest to estimate enger weight and factoring appropriate numbers for luggage. He had made a separate request of the Kuala Lampur airport for the fuel load aboard the flight. Next, he turned to the automatically transmitted engine performance for the two large GE90 engines. He noted the serial numbers of the engines so he could bring up individual tests results generated at factory tests for comparison.

Putting together all the engine data, he came up with an estimate of the speed and fuel consumption He had a good estimate of the distance the aircraft had traveled and what its remaining range might be if the hijackers continued in a similar manner. These estimates could be forwarded to radar sites to try to detect the aircraft. Of course, the hijackers would have deactivated any identifying response from the aircraft, but the radar would indicate that something was out there. As Bill reviewed the engine data, he noticed that small changes had been made in the thrust settings of both engines. Bill guessed that the hijackers were planning to get the most distance possible from the fuel they had remaining. Using the new data, he revised upward his estimate of the remaining distance capability by two hundred miles. Clearly, they were planning for a long trip. Bill wondered who the hijackers were and what they wanted.

Since the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center in New York, there had been many suicide bombings attributed to radical Islamic fundamentalists, but none successfully involving aircraft. Was this an exception? What about the fate of the four hundred engers and the crew? There was some speculation that the crew might in some way be complicit, there being no one on the enger manifest that was a recognized potential terrorist. Also, some of the plane’s maneuvers and events like turning off the identification codes suggested an intimate knowledge of the aircraft. Bill sincerely hoped that was not the case, but what was going on? What did the hijackers want?

Bill spent the next few hours studying the data coming from the engines, through the satellites. As far as he could tell, the aircraft was continuing on its way and was about to run out of fuel. Suddenly, the data changed radically. The engines’ power had been greatly reduced for a short time, followed by a burst of reverse thrust, indicating that the plane had probably landed. These sudden variations in power may have been a frantic attempt by an inexperienced pilot to moderate a crash landing. However, they were followed by a definite signal indicating engine cutoff. The rest of the data indicated that the engines had been successfully turned off and that they had shutdown normally. This could only indicate that the plane had been safely landed somewhere. Bill moved to the map. He measured off the distance he had previously calculated the plane had probably traveled. Swinging an arc from the last known point, Bill saw that the arc swung through Bangladesh and Myanmar. If indeed the plane had landed in either of those countries, Bill felt immediate concern for the fate of the engers. His next thoughts were about the Taliban and ransom. No doubt the engers would be held for ransom and a questionable fate.

Bill sat staring at the data. There was a large search effort underway in the Indian Ocean area off the coast of Australia, based on data from radars, pings from sonar devices, and Chinese surveillance satellites. The data indicating the plane had landed told Bill that the plane was somewhere on land and the sea search was misguided. Considering the range which the plane could have achieved, Bill had seen on his maps that it may have landed in Bangladesh or Myanmar. That might indicate that the hijackers were Taliban, although there had been no demands made for ransom, prisoner exchange, or other concessions. Neither had they claimed responsibility for the successful hijacking to build reputation and entice recruitment. What did they want? Bill wondered. As Bill reflected on the situation, it occurred to him that the answer was probably simple. Maybe they wanted the airplane for some future terrorist event. Maybe they wanted to hide the plane and keep its whereabouts unknown. They must have confiscated all the engers’ electronic devices in order to prevent any transmissions that could give away the plane’s location. That would explain the lack of any enger messages. Bill refused to consider any other possible explanations.

Bill’s next thought was about the large search effort concentrating on several areas of the ocean. Could it be that the Taliban had managed to drop some sonar devices into the ocean in order to draw the searchers off the track? Should Bill inform someone about his conclusions that the plane had landed safely? Or was it better to keep the terrorists in the dark until more was known about the possible terrorist mission for the plane? If the sea search was called off, that would be a clear indication to the Taliban the plane landing was known to the searchers. Bill decided to wait before reviewing his findings with his friend Raj and making any formal report. There was the possibility that Bill’s conclusions were not correct and it would be prudent to wait and see if the sea search yielded any clues.

The next few days, Bill waited patiently for news from all the numerous searchers now spread over a large area. There was talk of a submersible craft being lowered to make a sonar map of the ocean bottom in the area of the blackbox pings. Bill wanted to stay at the station until the fate of the black-box search was determined. Bill knew that he must tell Raj, the station manager, of his discovery since it affected such a large search effort. He first wanted to think through the implications of his discovery. Questions whirled around in his mind. What of the engers? What did the hijackers have in mind? If they were Taliban, they probably had headed for Myanmar or Bangladesh. Were they planning to hold the engers for ransom, or at least some of them? A check of his distance projections told him that the flight could have reached those likely Taliban destinations. Certainly, the Taliban always needed money. However, no demands had been made. In fact, the Taliban had never claimed to be involved in the hijacking. Normally, they would be anxious to claim credit as a recruiting tool. Bill reviewed the whole search effort in his mind. No physical evidence had been recovered that indicated a crash. The pings could have come from decoys planted by a ship ing an unknown Taliban operation. But why would the Taliban want people to think the plane went down in the ocean? Bill was stumped and wondered, What could they possibly be planning?

Later, as Bill was about to drift off to sleep, the thought occurred to him. Of course, they wanted the aircraft for some later mission and they did not want anyone to know they had it or where it was. Like the 9/11 attacks on the USA,

they planned to use the plane to attack some critical site, but where? Bill decided that very few people should be informed of his recent discoveries and subsequent thinking.

******

The next morning, Bill awakened with a start. The hijackers had gone to a lot of trouble to create the illusion that East Asia 703 had gone down in the ocean. He was now convinced that the plane’s engines had been normally shut down. He decided to Raj before breakfast. He met Raj on his way to the breakfast area. Raj jokingly remarked that something important must have happened to move Bill to an animated state, requesting a conference before eating. Bill took the ribbing good-naturedly and told Raj of his suspicion that the plane had been safely landed and the engines shut down normally.

Raj said, “But the whole world is watching the search in areas of the Indian Ocean. What do we tell them?”

Bill thought for a moment and replied, “We don’t, at least not until we decide what the Taliban has in mind for the plane. It is most certainly the Taliban that we are dealing with here. They must have a big operation planned to be trying so hard to create the illusion that the plane is lost at sea. Let’s talk with some senior security people in your government about possible targets for future Taliban attacks.”

The next few days were filled with consultations including Bill, Raj, and various department heads in the Homeland Security Office in India. Without revealing why they thought East Asia flight 703 had been safely landed, they talked of hypothetical what-ifs based on the plane’s being landed safely in Myanmar or Bangladesh. The general consensus was that, if indeed the plane had been

landed, it was probably being made into a large bomb destined for some important target. No one could suggest any targets, except maybe some signature building in one of the larger cities in India. Raj then decided to the military branch responsible for defense of military targets. Here he ran into reluctance on the part of the military to reveal any information about potential targets. The attitude seemed to be that military bases were not penetrable. Any attacker would be shot down long before they reached the target. The military did reveal that there was one target that the Taliban might be willing to take considerable risk in order to destroy it. They would not reveal the nature of the target nor its location, although they referred to it as Monkey Island. They thanked Raj for the heads-up and promised to take all necessary precautions.

The next day, when Bill returned to the station, Raj was waiting anxiously for him. Airline officials in Kuala Lampur, who knew of the station and the work they did, were requesting help. They wanted to have any data that might help them deal with the families and friends of the engers on EA703 who were clamoring for information. Raj and Bill wanted very much to give what information they had, but they decided it would only deepen people’s concerns.

Later, Raj told Bill that he suspected the target was related to India’s nuclear effort. Raj had a friend that held a key position in that effort, and he prevailed upon his friend to indicate any site the Taliban might choose to attack with the hijacked plane filled with a large bomb of some kind. His friend cautioned that such information was highly classified, and he could not release any information officially. Unofficially, he told Raj of the nuclear weapon storage site, but could not say where it was, but did say it was called Monkey Island. He then added that any such site would be heavily defended and no unauthorized craft could get close to the site.

Having done all they could to alert the proper authorities to the possibility of future Taliban action, Bill and Raj returned to the satellite station. There, the two of them spent a few hours reviewing all that had happened during the last several days. Bill was certain that the hijackers had a plan to use the East Asia 703 plane

for some dramatic event and probably sometime soon. Bill was anxious to get back to London and have something different to think about. He was about to call for a flight reservation when Raj called his attention to the television screen and the news channel. Another hijacking was in process. This time, it was British Airways 137 from London on its way to Mumbai, India. Bill knew the plane, another 777. He immediately logged on to the Internet page that provided him the plane’s engine serial numbers so he could follow the data being relayed through the satellites to station where he waited. A quick look told him that the engines were performing normally but they were running at full speed, as though the hijackers were in a hurry. The newscast revealed that the hijacked plane was carrying 450 engers and had deviated from its regular flight path. The new course would take the plane much further North than Mumbai.

******

Bill was concentrating on the new data from BA137 when new data on the EA703 engines appeared on his display. He ed he had left those serial numbers active but was shocked to see that the engines were running. Whatever the plans for the captured plane, it was apparently underway. The engines were running at full power, either for speed or because of a very heavy load. Bill was wondering what was going on when a radar report came in stating that a stray plane had been sighted and an interceptor plane had been sent up to investigate. Bill had to wait on pins and needles to see if that plane would prove to be EA703. After what seemed like a long time to Bill, the report came in. It was a shocker. The plane was identified as BA137 and it carried the correct number on its tail for that flight. However, it was in the wrong place for that plane. That flight had been actively tracked and was miles away. There were two identical planes, and Bill knew that one of them was being powered by the engines from EA703.

As further data came in, it appeared that the two planes were headed toward one another. More observation by pilots sent up to intercept the planes revealed that the window shades on both planes were down so it was not possible to tell which

plane was which. The EA703 plane had been repainted to look exactly like the BA137 plane. Also, the planes were flying close together, side by side, and it would be impossible to stop one without damaging the other. The commercial BA137 with 450 engers was providing a shield for the modified EA703. With speed data provided by the interceptor aircraft and the power data from the engines, Bill calculated that the modified EA703 was indeed very heavily loaded. It was probably a very powerful bomb.

Bill called Raj with a quick update of the situation and Raj decided to call his friend who had told them about Monkey Island. After absorbing all the data Raj provided about the two aircraft and Bill’s assessment of the load being carried by the modified EA703 Raj’s friend told him the aircraft appeared to be headed for an important nuclear site. When pressed by Raj, his friend confirmed that the target of the hijackers was probably Monkey Island.

******

Colonel Chandra answered the red phone with a casual attitude that was quickly dispersed. Two identical planes, one with potentially a large bomb were headed straight for Monkey Island. He immediately scrambled an interceptor aircraft armed with air-to-air missiles. The intercepting plane was guided to the target, and the pilot was ordered to shoot down the more heavily loaded of the two aircraft. It developed that the pilot had a brother on the BA137 flight and could not tell one aircraft from the other. He disobeyed orders and refused to launch his missiles. The colonel was furious, but he understood the futility of sending another pilot to shoot down the brother of a fellow officer. After all, they had only some Boeing engineer’s assessment that there was a big bomb on one of the planes. What little comfort that thought might have otherwise brought him was destroyed by the ringing red phone. The colonel was informed by the general that the plane was indeed likely to have a bomb that would destroy Monkey Island, or at least make it so radioactive that it would be inaccessible for years. Whatever the case, the colonel was to bring down the plane with the bomb immediately.

Colonel Chaudry did not want his service record to show that he gave the order to shoot down a civilian aircraft with 450 engers aboard. He had no choice in this difficult situation. He reasoned that it was the hijackers who had doomed these people, not himself. He would just be following orders, very specific orders at that. His ground-to-air missiles had no brothers aboard either aircraft and would attack both planes equally. Colonel Chaudry had spent several years working in the nuclear weapons group of India. That was how he had come to be in his present position. During that time, he had attended conferences in Pakistan and Iran. During informal conversations with various attendees at these conferences, he had gathered a feeling for the state of development in these countries concerning nuclear weapons. He had a strong belief that of the radical Islamic group might very well have acquired a rather large bomb. That had not concerned him since there had seemed no way any such weapon could ever penetrate the defenses around Monkey Island. Now, with the two planes already inside the first ring of his defense the situation loomed suddenly different. Why had it devolved upon him to have to deal with the situation? Could he ever decide to send over four hundred people to certain death? For a moment, he allowed himself to think that the plane with the bomb could not make the trip from its likely place in either Pakistan or Myanmar. At least, not with a big enough bomb to do much damage. Why not just let them go ahead? Then he realized that the people were doomed if the bomb was detonated. His next thought was that the planes were on a one-way mission and the old EA703 plane could very well carry a big enough bomb to do serious damage.

The colonel felt alone with such horrible responsibility. To have a fail-safe defense the system should not have people in a role that required such decisions. Warheads should be stored atop missiles ready to be launched when attacked. That was the plan most countries had adopted. But where would those missiles go if attacked by Islamic fundamentalists? Now he must obey orders and stop musing. He would receive death threats from the friends and family of those 450 engers if his actions ever became public knowledge. He moved to the console that controlled the missiles which would protect Monkey Island.

******

Captain Aabis noticed the flashing blue light that indicated his hijacked BA137 plane was under direct attack by missiles coming up from the ground, slightly lower and behind his aircraft. He was trained and had been briefed on the defenses of Monkey Island, so he knew that those missiles would normally attack the two aircraft equally. The BA137 was not equipped with the decoys that had been added to his EA703 modified plane, along with the large bomb he was delivering. He pulled the lever that would release several dozen decoys. These decoys each deployed parachutes that would cause them to hang in the air as they emitted signals that would emulate radar reflections from both the aircraft. The attacking missiles all had a radar that allowed them to “see” the target aircraft by detecting reflections from the target aircraft. The signals from the decoys would overpower these reflections and the missiles would attack the decoys instead. The proximity fuses in the missiles would explode the missile warheads close to the decoys and well away from the aircraft. The BA137 flight, having no decoys, would still be protected by the decoys and both aircraft would continue on to the target, piloted by hijackers.

Captain Chandra glanced out the window and noted with satisfaction that BA137 was still keeping position close enough to shield any further attacks by aircraft and he knew that he still had more decoys, should they be needed. He knew the pilot that had been selected to take over the hijacked plane. He was a devout er and a dedicated warrior. He would take his plane into Monkey Island, all the way. Chandra felt honored to be an associate of such a dedicated warrior. Together, they would put Pakistan well ahead of India in the nuclear weapons race. Then an elation swept over him, realizing the moment was now only seconds away. He knew that, under normal operation, the plane’s performance data would be transmitted to a satellite and monitored by someone familiar with the aircraft. While the aircraft had been in the hands of the hijackers and being prepared for the mission, the technicians had enabled a microphone to insert messages directly into the data stream that was being relayed to the satellite. Chandra knew, without doubt, the world would be listening, awaiting any possible hint for information on the flight status. He pressed the button on the microphone and sent his message, “Flight EA703 preparing for landing.” Then

for a special few he added, “Mission accomplished.”