“Then perhaps it would be best if you told me nothing,” General Miller said. “Sentiment has no place in matters of security or intelligence.”
A lecture. I should have known that was coming.
He still thinks of me as a cadet who almost got himself— and Dick—booted out of West Point and then not only became a Special Forces cowboy promoted before his time but who dragged Dick from the holy family cavalry tradition into the Green Beanies with him.
On the whole, were I Major General Miller I wouldn’t like Major Castillo much, either.
“That was Secretary Hall just now, General . . .”
“Is that who you work for?”
“Yes, sir. But on indefinite TDY. I am still a serving officer. May I go on, sir?”
“Of course. Excuse me.”
“Secretary Hall called to tell me that a Gray Fox team that made a Halo insertion to the airfield in Abéché, Chad, has confirmed that the 727 stolen from Luanda has been in Abéché, where it was given new registration numbers and loaded with several fuel bladders.”
“May I ask why he thought you should be made privy to that information?”
Lowly majors—especially ones promoted before their time—should not even know what Gray Fox is, right? Much less be “privy” to operational details?
“Because I gave him the initial intel, sir, that the airplane was probably there.”
General Miller looked at Castillo for a long moment, almost visibly deciding whether to believe him or not.
Not that he’s wondering if I’m lying. He really believes that West Pointers do not lie, cheat, or steal nor tolerate those who do. It’s just that, as a general, based on his own experience, he knows that I simply can’t have the experience to really know what I’m talking about.
“What is the connection between that missing aircraft and Philadelphia?” General Miller asked, finally. “Can you tell me that?”
“My best intel is that a group of Somalians calling themselves the Holy Legion of Muhammad intends to crash it into the Liberty Bell complex here.”
“May I ask where that came from? The Liberty Bell does not seem, symbolism aside, to be a worthwhile target.”
“That I can’t tell you, General, because we just don’t know. But the Gray Fox team confirmed what my source gave me—first, that the airplane was in Chad, that the registration numbers had been changed and fuel bladders placed aboard, and, second, that it had left.”
“To what end, Major? Where is the aircraft now?”
“We don’t know, sir.”
“With the fuel bladders would it have the range to fly here?”
“That’s possible, sir. But I think the purpose of the bladders is to have a large amount of fuel—either JP-4 or gasoline —aboard as explosive material. They’re trying to duplicate the effectiveness of the big birds the terrorists turned into bombs on 9/11 with the smaller 727 that, being old and common, is effectively off everyone’s radar.”
“And you believe this aircraft is headed for Philadelphia? ”
“Yes, sir.”
“And that’s why you’re here?”
“Our source believes there is probably a connection between the Holy Legion of Muhammad and someone here in Philadelphia. Commissioner Kellogg’s trying to help us find it, if there is one.”
“Does Kellogg know about the airplane? Your belief that it will be used as a flying bomb?”
“Yes, sir. And after 1615 tomorrow, he’s going to tell the mayor.”
“The mayor doesn’t know?” General Miller asked, surprised.
"Not yet, sir.”