Final Winter

The mechanic kept on turning the canister in his hands. ‘Killing the fuckers over there, instead of waiting for them over here. That’s a better option.’

Bocks felt his breathing relax. Randy was going to be okay. Sure enough, his chief mechanic changed the subject with the next question.

‘How will it be controlled?’

Palmer said, ‘Entirely automated. There will be a two-part radio-altimeter switch. When the aircraft rises to a certain altitude, the canister will be activated. When the aircraft descends to a certain altitude, the canister will cycle open, and the spraying will commence.’

Randy said, ‘And where in hell do you expect this to go? Duct-taped on an outside wing?’

Back into the case the doctor went, and he came out with a bunch of documents. He leafed through them until he pulled one out. Doctor Palmer said, ‘AirBox flies the Boeing MD-11 aircraft, configured to haul cargo. It has twin Pratt and Whitney engines, and associated with these engines you have two air-conditioning packs. One for each engine. Correct?’

Randy said, ‘You’re doing fine, doc. Go on.’

Palmer said, ‘These air-conditioning packs take hot air from the engines, pass it through a heat exchanger, and it’s then compressed and cooled. This air is used to pressurize the cabin and cool the air in it. With each air-conditioning pack, there is an exhaust system. We’ve examined the schematics. There is a way of installing the canisters such that they bleed into the exhaust system. Entirely automatic. Nothing to be controlled from the cockpit.’

Bocks looked at the expression on Randy’s face, wasn’t sure what was going on there. He said, ‘Doctor, if you could, please pass over the schematics to Randy. I want him to have a look at it.’

The papers went over. Adrianna sat there, hands folded. She seemed tense, coiled. Bocks could not imagine the pressure the woman was under. Randy flipped through the pages, grunted a couple of times, and then flipped through the pages again, more slowly. Outside, the sound of a jet taking off made the windows rattle for a moment.

Randy said, ‘General, it looks like it can be done…but where’s the Supplement Type Certificate? You can’t just add something to an aircraft without an STC from the FAA.’

Bocks said, ‘Miss?’

Adrianna said, ‘We’ll take care of the FAA.’

Randy shook his head. ‘Maybe so. But Jesus, somebody there’s gonna raise hell about us doing something like this. I mean, doing this without—’

Adrianna interrupted. ‘Like I said, we’ll take care of the FAA. The question I have is, can security be maintained? We can’t have scores of mechanics installing the canisters and then talking about it later. There has to be some way of keeping this confidential.’

Bocks said, ‘Don’t worry about my crews. My big question is the time-line. What are you looking for in terms of aircraft?’

Adrianna said, ‘Forty. We determined that with forty of your aircraft, we can successfully complete the immunization of about seventy-five percent of the urban population. The intelligence information we have indicates a half-dozen of our largest cities are targeted, as well as Washington DC.’

‘What the hell happens to the other twenty-five percent?’ Randy asked. ‘They get written off?’

Bocks was beginning to admire the woman, for she had a sure touch with answering the tough questions. He had served with similar women in the Air Force, especially with those women who ran maintenance squadrons and who had ready answers and a poor appreciation of bullshit.

Adrianna said, ‘The anthrax attacks will take place in our major cities. It doesn’t make sense for an attack to take place in rural areas, so those areas won’t be treated with the immunization program. We also realize that we have a limited number of aircraft. A number will be tasked to one city. Five, for example, for the New York City metropolitan area alone.’

By now, Randy was scribbling on the back of one of the sheets of paper with a pen. Bocks waited patiently, knowing that the answer Randy was about to give was going to be the right one. It might not be an answer that the group was looking for, but it was going to be the only answer that counted.

Randy dropped his pen. ‘When do you want to fly?’

‘As soon as possible,’ she said. ‘We believe the attack will take place in just under three weeks, on May 29.’

‘We can do forty aircraft in four days, if we’re lucky, if the FAA isn’t up our ass, and if you get the canisters to us. When can you get them here?’

‘Day after tomorrow.’

‘You sure?’ Bocks asked.

Adrianna’s voice was full of confidence. ‘Guaranteed, gentlemen.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE