OVER THE PACIFIC
Corrine felt as if her body deflated as the Navy pilots reported seeing the 747 disintegrating as it hit the water.
“Down, it’s down,” said Wolf.
“Good,” she told him.
She turned to the others, giving them a thumbs-up. Then she punched back into Corrigan’s line, relaying the information.
“I’m afraid Ferguson and Conners haven’t been located yet,” he said.
“Yes, I know.”
Neither one stated the obvious—the two men were probably aboard the plane that had just been shot down.
“Navy is challenging an Indian flight over the northern Philippines,” one of the communications specialists said to Corrine. “Data says it’s a 707. They’re off their filed flight plan, but they’re a regular flight for Hawaii. Carry flowers, that sort of thing.”
Corrine started to say that they could let it go, but then she remembered the bulletin Corrigan had issued earlier—the terrorists had two planes.
“Do they have it in sight?”
“Negative. It’s responded properly to the civilian controllers, however. Looks like it’s OK.”
They all wanted to knock off. They deserved to. And this plane was a 707, not a 747—and Indian besides.
Corrine reached for the mike switch. Her job was to be the president’s conscience, and she’d done it well, ordering the shootdown of the terrorist plane at the very last second—a tough decision that had to be made. Now it was time to go home.
Or was it? Nothing could be overlooked—that was the lesson of the boxcars, wasn’t it?
“Tell them to get it in sight,” she told the Navy controller. “Tell them to make sure it’s a 707, not a 747. And don’t just settle for a radar contact either.”
She hit the switch and keyed back into Corrigan. “Mr. Corrigan, what was the information regarding the planes the Sri Lankan company owns?”
“Which ones?” asked Corrigan.
“They have 707s?”
“They have three, all being refurbished. Bought them surplus,” Corrigan stopped, checking through his papers. “They got them from an Indian airline—I don’t have the exact information in front of me. Is it important?”
Corrine turned back to the com specialist. “Set up a direct line to the Navy patrol, just like you did for Basher. I want that plane stopped.”