no disasters, and talked openly of how Paul Bedford had been swept to power when the previous president had refused to tackle a flagrantly vicious terrorist attack on the USA.
It pointed out how reliant so many people had been on the admiral’s support, how the military counted on him to raise hell if their warnings were not heeded.
But it also pointed out how easily he could put people’s noses right out of joint. How he gathered devotees and enemies in equal numbers, how he did not give a damn what anyone thought, just so long as it was right for the USA.
The story stated that President Bedford refused to make big international decisions without him. And that he was ignoring the advice of once-trusted colleagues. Mostly the sentences of Henry Brady started with
Nonetheless, the message was clear. Admiral Arnold Morgan had a great deal to say about the actions of the United States on the international stage, and whereas some people thought “Thank God for that,” there were others. Others who thought this was all very unhealthy, a swerve in the wrong direction, too much power vested in two men, with too little consultation.
Essentially, this very large spread of newspaper type was divided into two sections. The second one occupied a massive “box,” on the right, over three columns, running down most of the page. There was a full-length picture of the admiral, in uniform. In the background was a sinister-looking
DID THE ADMIRAL TAKE OVER ON JANUARY 15?
And what really happened to the missing Arab 737?
The drift of the story was that the public had never been informed of the true scale of the terrorist plot. They had not even been told that it was, without question, the work of either al Qaeda or an associate organization with close links to Hamas, the Palestinian group.
Henry Brady revealed, flatly, that the man who was shot and then taken, in police custody, to Mass General was now in Guantanamo Bay.
A series of judicious inquiries in New York then led Henry to discover that there had been three arrests at an apartment on Houston Street on January 18, and that one of the men had been flown immediately to Guantanamo Bay. In Henry’s opinion, the other two were on their way, and all of this was on the specific orders of Admiral Morgan.
“No civilian,” wrote Henry, “no retired officer, unelected, unappointed, in the entire history of the United States has ever wielded such formidable power in the Oval Office. Except for Admiral Morgan these past several years.”
He then moved more pointedly to the precise events that took place on January 15. This part of the story was pieced together after a series of interviews with the press office at the Air Traffic Control Center in Herndon, Virginia. Henry had conducted these in person, driven out there and informed the receptionist he was Henry Brady of the
The editor of course was in no position to order anyone to do anything at Herndon, but it startled the receptionist and Henry was given access to a couple of public affairs officers.
He made the most of what he was given. Which, in fairness, was not much. Yes, the ATC operators had locked on to Flight 62, which had maintained course, despite being instructed to make a change and swing left inland. It had continued north out over the ocean.
“Why was the course change ordered?”
“I’m sorry, sir. That is classified information.”
“Military?”
“I’m sorry, sir, I cannot answer that.”
“Is it classified?”
“Yes, sir.”
“For how much longer, after the 737 ceased to obey orders from Herndon, did you track it?”
“Sir, I did not say it ceased to obey orders. I said it continued on its northerly course.”
“In flagrant defiance of the ATC instructions, right?” Henry was trying to close in.
“Not necessarily, sir. There may have been an electronic foul-up. Flight 62 may not have been receiving us. We were not in communication. And that would make it an accident, sir. Not defiance.”
Henry persisted. “Okay, let me rephrase. For how long were you able to track the aircraft after you first noticed it was not obeying instructions?”
“I would say less than an hour, sir. We had it on radar, fifty miles offshore, east of Norfolk, Virginia.”
“And then it vanished?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you have a record of the height the aircraft was flying when it disappeared?”
“I am certain we do.”
“Could I see that record?”
“I am sorry, but everything’s gone to the government department that investigates such matters.”
“Would anyone remember whether Flight 62 was at thirty thousand feet or two thousand feet when it vanished?”
“Possibly, but that information would be classified right now until the documents are released by the government and a satisfactory explanation has been found.”
“Okay, I’m just trying to establish whether that aircraft, packed with civilian passengers, who are now dead, disappeared from your screens way up there in the stratosphere, either because of a bomb or some other explosion. Or perhaps it just suffered what you guys call catastrophic mechanical failure and plunged into the ocean?”
“I’m sure one day, sir, this will all come to light. But right now that is not possible.”
Henry Brady tried to pull rank. “I represent the most powerful political newspaper in the United States,” he said. “And in my opinion, the citizens of this country have a right to know what happened if Americans died in any kind of disaster.”
“Sir, there were no Americans on board. The aircraft was Canadian-based, Canadian-owned. It was not scheduled to stop in the USA.”
“How do you know this, if you were not in communication?”
“Sir, every flight has a number which betrays its origins. This was TBA 62. We have of course been in contact with its parent corporation.”
“That’s Thunder Bay Airways, right?”
“Correct. And they may be able to help you more than we can.”
That last sentence had Henry on the line in double-quick time to the little airline on the freezing north shore of Lake Superior. And there he discovered the aircraft was very lightly loaded, it had made a fuel stop in Palm Beach, unscheduled, and there were no Americans on board.
The chief executive confirmed the flight had been lost, out in the Atlantic, according to the Americans. So far as the airline was concerned, no one had any idea where the wreckage was, not within an area of 2,500 square miles. So far as they were concerned, no further search-and-rescue operations were being conducted.
Yes, they could confirm that the senior directors of the airline were of Arabian descent, and yes, the majority shareholders were extremely wealthy Saudis. That was public record.
Henry at that stage had a smattering of facts. And a very big mystery. So far as he was concerned, that was perfect. So long as he could ascertain that Admiral Morgan was right in the middle of it.
And that would take several leaps of faith, all of them slightly shaky. But Henry was a newspaperman, and his business was not to establish the pure unbridled truth. He worked for a commercial corporation. His business was to sell newspapers, to write a slightly sneering, cynical story against the government, not to establish unbridled truth. Henry was quite prepared to take those leaps of faith.
And he was prepared to take a really big one on the subject of TBA’s Flight 62.
This is what he wrote: “
