“Yeah. Turns out he was a JAG. Pentagon sent him on the trip to finalize an intelligence-sharing agreement with the Turkish Coast Guard. The guy actually had his papers in. He was getting out of the service to take a lobbying job on Capitol Hill.”
Katie stopped walking and took in the scene. Conza did the same. The debris field looked eerie in the wash of the bright floods. Yet itwasless overwhelming than yesterday. The smoke had dissipated, and the smells of the desert were returning.
Her distraction ended, and she picked up on their thread. “If that’s the case, it doesn’t sound like he was involved in anything critical.”
“My thoughts exactly. Nobody would take down an airliner to kill an intelligence-cooperation agreement.”
“Which means if this turns out to be sabotage, he wasn’t the reason.”
After a lengthy pause, Conza said, “Does that mean we came here for nothing?”
“Not at all. Our original focus was a brother Navy officer. He might not have been tip-of-the-spear, but he sacrificed his life in service to his country. You could say the same about all the victims of this crash. We owe it to them to find out what happened. Whether this was an intentional act or an accident, a lot of family and friends deserve answers. You and I are going to help get them.”
A waving arm in the distance caught their attention. Colonel Carter was beckoning them over to the crushed nose section. They set out walking again through the tawny brush.
“How were your accommodations?” Carter asked when they arrived.
Katie couldn’t contain a laugh. “Comfortable king bed, hot food from a menu. The hotel even has a spa if we can find the time. Lieutenant Conza and I are more accustomed to hot bunking with strangers on smelly ships in the tropics.”
“Glad to hear you approve. I’ve got a couple of items of interest to share. Last night I talked to the medical examiner—or whatever the hell they call them here. We’ve run into a bit of a discrepancy.”
“Discrepancy? You mean with the remains?”
“Yes. I mentioned earlier that the bodies had been removed by the Turkish authorities. With the exception of the two on the flight deck, most were in relatively good condition. The problem is the count—we ended up at fifteen.”
Katie blinked. “But the manifest clearly listed sixteen passengers and crew.”
“Correct. Some of my people tried to resolve the discrepancyovernight. They spent time in the morgue and went over detailed photos taken as the bodies were removed. It only confirmed what the ME is telling us—this plane went down with fifteen souls on board.”
“How could that be?” Conza asked.
“That, my friends, is our morning mystery. I thought it might be the kind of thing two sharp Navy intelligence officers could get to the bottom of.”
“How many of the fifteen have been positively identified so far?”
“Unofficially, eight. Some were carrying IDs that we correlated to their faces. The government employees have photos and fingerprints on file. DNA is the most certain way, but we don’t have comparative profiles for some of the victims. It’s a process of elimination. We have to get this right, and that takes time. But I’m getting pressure from above for some quick preliminary results.”
“What’s the rush?” asked Conza.
“That relates to my second problem—one that’s far more worrying. The flight data recorder was in good shape, and we managed to get a quick download. We haven’t analyzed everything yet, but we’re seeing serious inconsistencies in the jet’s navigation system.”
“Inconsistencies?” Katie asked. “What does that mean?”
“The navigation platforms in modern airplanes get information from a lot of sources. GPS is generally the most accurate, but radio navigation aids on the ground are also cross-checked. Those inputs are meshed into redundant inertial units on the jet—basically very accurate gyros that measure the slightest movement. It’s all continuously compared to come up with a highly accurate end product. An aircraft like this pretty much knows where it is within a few feet.”
“But this one didn’t?” Conza speculated.
“The data shows a big disagreement between the various sources—in particular, the two GPS inputs. I’ve got engineers digging into the digital weeds, but it’s going to take a day or two for them to get a solid answer. This is a serious-enough discrepancy that I’m making it my main focus. If the navigation system suffered a sudden position shift, it could have caused the crew to believe they were miles away from their true position.”
“What could have caused this position shift?” Katie asked.
“It’s not definitive, but we have to consider some type of sabotage. More specifically, I’m talking about GPS spoofing or meaconing.”
“I’m familiar with it. The Navy has been worried about that kind of threat for a long time. False signals that trick an aircraft or a vessel into going off course…and potentially into harm’s way.”
“Correct. There are a number of ways to conduct an attack like that, but in this situation”—Carter gestured toward the surrounding hills—“the most likely method would have been to place hardware in the immediate area.”
“Some kind of transmission device to override the GPS satellite signal?” Katie surmised.
