Concealed

By Dan W. Roberts

Concealed is a mystery thrill ride that takes the reader through the events that enable a commercial pilot to formulate a plan for revenge against the United States. His plot takes advantage of radar limitations over desolate stretches of ocean, combined with other detection constraints that can render an airplane nearly invisible. Those intentions soon capture the interest of terrorist organizations that realize the potential to not only conceal an airplanes true identity but turn it into a weapon of mass destruction on a scale never thought possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504948500

Dan W. Roberts

Dan has enjoyed reading mystery novels and learning about technology advancements his entire life. He also developed a passion for aviation subjects from an early age, largely influenced by his father’s career as a pilot in the USAF. His other interests include motorcycling, boating, scuba diving, and traveling just about anywhere. Dan, his wife, Pam, and their beagle, Casey, live near Dallas, Texas. They have four adult sons scattered across the country who also consider Texas as their home state.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

There were happy voices in the family car, mainly from the two children in the backseat on either side of their grandmother. They were chattering with elation as they wound their way through the remote canyons, excited to spend a few days with their grandparents at their secluded mountain home. Their mother was carefully navigating the gravel road, worried about stray animals wandering into their path as they inched their way around the many blind curves. Her father was sound asleep in the front passenger seat, lulled into one of those wonderfully blissful and carefree naps that many parents (and especially grandparents) experienced when their children, and grandchildren, were in their presence.

The Pamir Mountains in northern Afghanistan were no less scenic than many better-known ranges found in more popular locations around the world. Few people were even aware of their existence and the lack of any significant tourism meant they had retained their unspoiled and pristine beauty for centuries. The native population consisted primarily of widely scattered goat and yak herders, satisfied to quietly live their lives in the same isolation and solitude of their ancestors.

As they rounded the last curve, the canyon opened to reveal a lush green meadow populated by a few cows grazing contently on the early summer grass spread out in front of the farmhouse. Puffy white clouds, not unlike giant cotton balls, were slowly drifting across the azure sky, and the gentle mountain breeze carried a slight coolness that was perfectly balanced by the late-morning sunshine.

After the car pulled up to the home and came to a stop, there was a distant rumbling noise that sounded like muffled thunder from a faraway storm, but that was impossible as there wasn’t even the slightest indication of bad weather in any direction. Everyone quickly exited the vehicle and gazed toward the distant horizon, wondering what kind of strange phenomenon was taking place. As the sound rapidly grew louder, it resembled more of a whistling noise, as if something was hurtling toward them at a high rate of speed. Even if they had realized what it was, there was no time to react, no place to run. The sonic wave caused by the onrushing object knocked all of them to the ground, and an instant later the blinding flash of light would be the last thing they ever saw. They had no way of knowing that a Hellfire missile (powerful enough to obliterate a tank), was fired from a U.S. Air Force drone only five miles away. The home had been mistakenly targeted as a refuge for terrorists that were believed to have been hiding there. The devastation was immediate and complete; there were only bits and pieces of blood-splattered wood, metal and debris scattered in a 100-foot-wide crater where they had been standing only seconds before. The tragic results underscored the widespread risk of collateral fatalities wherever terrorism was being fought.

This particular mistake would have ramifications far beyond what anyone could have ever imagined.

CHAPTER 1

It was a particularly steamy evening in Makati, one that made breathing difficult even by local standards. Living in a tropical climate meant dealing with periodically stifling humidity and frequent typhoons, but it was better than having to suffer through the long winters and limited daylight in Afghanistan.

Ashraf had just returned home from yet another uneventful long-haul flight, this time from L.A. He was weary, but always enjoyed the technical aspects of flying: the rush of knowing how to manipulate one of the world’s largest passenger aircraft to seemingly do the impossible—get 388 tons of various metals, fibers and cargo (human and otherwise) into the air, follow a precise path 12,000 miles and land the B777-200LR back on the ground with an imperceptible bump on the runway. Were it not for the relatively busy times during take-offs and landings, he could virtually sleep the entire flight and rely on the complex computer systems to fly the plane.

But his keen intellect would never be satisfied by allowing that. Ash was a demanding pilot and insisted on constant risk-contingency planning: what would be his thought process and course of action if a sudden emergency occurred? His ever-busy mind would run dozens of scenarios over and over, from sudden unexpected turbulence to cabin depressurization (albeit something less than catastrophic as that would by definition be unrecoverable). He was a bit old-school in a lot of ways, almost as if he held in disdain what most pilots would consider their goal for every flight—uneventful stability and nothing to worry about except where to have dinner that night.

Ash prided himself on his meticulous sense of planning, to exercise his mind to consider not just what was in front of him but, more importantly, what wasn’t. He tended to focus his mental energy beyond the here and now, to try to predict the future, or at least be ready for anything that might come his way. It was something of a hindrance to give a passing nod to the current conditions, as this was a distraction from his prime focus on what might lie ahead.

He excelled in academics from an early age and later graduated from Herat University in Western Afghanistan with highest honors in their aeronautical engineering program. His achievements, coupled with a desire to be a pilot, were quickly noticed by the country’s emerging air force, and upon graduation he was selected for the prestigious National Military Academy in Kabul. He continued to flourish in that regimented environment and became an outstanding pilot during his active duty that followed.

His political views were a mix of conservative Islam and somewhat neutral acceptance of the western cultural influences that were shaping the new Afghanistan as it emerged from decades of oppressive regimes. There was no doubt that his country was becoming more Americanized by the day, which was not necessarily a bad thing, but it left many natives questioning their desire to maintain their heritage, not entirely sure they wanted to let go of centuries-old customs and habits. On the other hand, they also enjoyed more peace than many citizens had known in their lifetimes, thanks to the strong United States military presence.

The U.S. operated several large bases as well as numerous smaller camps and other installations throughout the country with the main goal of maintaining stability. A secondary objective, although not as publicized for many reasons, was to escalate the war on terrorism and send a clear message that Afghanistan would not be tolerant of it. Being a country with lots of mountainous and virtually inaccessible terrain, which radicals and other thugs were particularly fond of, there was a heavy reliance on the use of aerial drones to collect all manner of intelligence. It was during a trip by his wife and children to her family’s ancestral village near Baghlan in the Pamirs that a U.S.-led attack had unfortunately claimed them as innocent victims, forever changing Ash’s life and political views.

After that tragic accident, no amount of apologies from the U.S. government could fill the enormous void it had created. There were many offers of assistance, including financial compensation, but Ash’s now-rapidly increasing resentment toward that country prevented him from accepting anything; he was a man of principle and could not acknowledge, nor extend, any form of forgiveness. He grew ever more distasteful of the western influences that were rapidly invading Afghani culture and knew he had to live somewhere else. He soon resigned his military commission and was determined to move, but where? He knew he needed to be far away (and desired a warmer climate), so he moved literally halfway around the world to the Philippines.

As he maneuvered the twisted and chaotic traffic in the city, inching closer to his home in the upscale suburb of Manila, Ash replayed in his mind how he would accomplish the most daring terrorist act the world had ever seen. Were it not for the violent deaths of his wife and children at the hands of the hated Americans, he would never have embarked on such a complex and deadly act of revenge. But when a man loses everything that is important to him and witnesses how fragile life truly is, does it matter what obstacles stand in the way of tunnel-vision justice? His intelligence, training, and inquisitive nature were already swirling into a volatile cocktail that no one could possibly have predicted.

CHAPTER 2

Ash’s house was spacious and had three bedrooms, three baths, comfortable den, and a large office. The only downsides were the constant quiet and emptiness that seemed to engulf his surroundings. To try to eliminate the deafening quietude, he invested in some high-end audio equipment (money was not an issue, he had plenty of that—his salary as senior pilot for Filipino International Airlines, headquartered in Manila, was very generous, even by western standards), but the respites from the constant loneliness were short-lived. No amount of background music could make his house seem more like a home. It was just a structure to keep him separated from the real world—a safe haven where he didn’t need to interact with anyone. He’d never been an overtly social person and would easily be categorized as more of an introvert than an extrovert.

He often reflected back on his younger days growing up in Afghanistan and the events that would shape his life. Everyone’s past experiences have a much more profound effect on both their present and future behaviors than they probably realize, or in most cases, care to even think about. Ash intuitively knew this, and his level of self-awareness was keen enough to cause him to examine his past so that he could better understand what his life was meant to accomplish.

He was well aware of the danger of allowing himself to get close to anyone, a lesson learned from the time he was a young boy when orphaned by the loss of his parents to the Russian occupation of Afghanistan. Witnessing their deaths was hard enough for a child that was barely eight years old, but the subsequent years of hardship from being raised in a desolate institution for the numerous homeless children in that impoverished country left emotional and physical scars that would never completely heal. It was no surprise that he had learned to shelter his emotions after all that he’d been through, and he wasn’t sure that he would ever allow himself to open his heart to even consider having his own family one day.

Ash wasn’t a person to reach out and ask for help from anyone. He became self-reliant as a child and quickly learned that to survive, he had to box up his negative feelings and emotions and ship them off to some distant corner of his mind. He frequently had to do that at the orphanage, to endure the bullying and beatings that were common from the older boys. Fortunately, he was tall for his age and avoided the severe abuse that the smaller children typically received. Food was scarce nearly everywhere and begging was common since the local economy was in shambles from the persistent war between the invading Russians and the dogged, native Mujahedeen fighters that refused to give up their soil. Ash had to similarly fight for any scraps he could find and soon became adept at not only defending himself from his abusers, but also being able to wreak his own terror whenever it suited him. He never picked on anyone smaller or who couldn’t defend himself; rather, he sought out the largest or most aggressive of his peers and fought them openly and honestly. That sent a message to the other children watching, that he was not someone to mess with. His opponents would always wind up on the ground, bleeding from at least one or two places and crying for mercy. Unfortunately, his reputation kept him from being a desirable candidate for adoption, but he really didn’t care.

As the years ticked by, one of Ash’s few passions became reading. He soon consumed every book in the limited library at the orphanage and by his teens became noticed more for his intelligence than his fighting skills. The missionaries had noted his transformation and recommended him for admission to a government-funded school that had a more rigorous curriculum than what they could offer. He leapt at the opportunity and excelled in mathematics and physical sciences—interests that would influence his eventual career choice.

As a young adult, Ash doubted he’d ever find a woman that would be attracted to him. He knew his personality was on the defensive side, and that meant he wouldn’t easily share emotions, nor likely be interested in delving into someone else’s either. He often wondered how Nahla had ever come into his life and why she would so tragically be taken from him. There weren’t any answers to those questions, but it didn’t stop him from reflecting on the happiness that she brought into his otherwise lonely existence.

His wife and family quickly became his only true passions in life, outside of his love of flying. He had completely invested his limited emotional resources in their activities and was without doubt the most devoted husband and father that he would ever be capable of. Consequently, his wonderful memories of their times together were even more haunting since he’d made such an extraordinary effort to be an integral part of their lives.

When they were so brutally taken from him, he quickly realized that was an insurmountable hurdle that would shadow him for the rest of his life—no one could ever replace Nahla and their children, Faraz and Mina. He and Nahla had enjoyed 15 years together and were looking forward to the rest of their lives—they were content and had complimentary personalities. She was much more gregarious, outgoing and socially comfortable than he could ever achieve. Her beauty was quickly noticed in any surrounding, but her confident manner was what made her especially attractive, and she exuded that quality without even speaking a word. Ash was smitten with her the day he met her and the feeling was reciprocated. It was just another of those examples of opposites being attracted to each other, a pairing that would be hard to explain to anyone outside of their relationship. But it worked for them, and that was all that mattered.

Ash knew he’d never find another woman so perfectly suited for him, and he steeled himself to not dwell on his loss, for he knew it would lead to an unrecoverable depression that could easily overtake even someone as strong as he was. Psychological literature suggested the loss of a beloved spouse, via divorce or death, was second—only to the loss of a child—on the list of most stressful events to endure. That Ash suffered both and had managed to avoid the resulting desperation that was seemingly inevitable were a testament to his resolve to push forward with his own life. He was in the midst of his darkest days, and he intuitively knew he could never entirely ignore the emotional pain that wouldn’t go away.

He tried dating but, with one exception, had no interest in creating a meaningful relationship with any woman, no matter how beautiful or available she might be. There were many willing women near his home and even overseas which, given his frequent travel, created numerous opportunities to find someone that might fill the void in his life. None of them really mattered to him, although he periodically purchased the brief female companionship that even his toughened soul needed from time to time.

His only real source of solace when he arrived in Manila was to attend the weekly prayer services at a mosque near his home. He met several members who were sympathetic to his loss and one in particular who shared his distrust against the west. They developed the only true friendship that Ash had known since he’d lost his family, and he would soon find out how important a role this man would play in his future.

Had he developed any socially oriented hobbies, Ash might have avoided falling into the gradual depression that was taking over his life. There was no easy remedy for the pain he felt every day, and he knew it was consuming his life.

Besides his regular trips to the mosque, his only other diversion from work was, not surprisingly, closely tied to his career. He enjoyed toying with flight-simulator programs and often tested his skills against the most demanding combination of challenges. In some ways, his time spent working with the flight-simulator software was not all that different from a video game that finds a sense of excitement and escape from the real world. He spent hours in front of his assembled collection of hardware, and it was very impressive, including several laptops with multiple-gigabit processing power, expansive memory capacity and video cards that enabled the highest quality resolutions from the most powerful applications that he might need to run. After all, he was a bit of a techie at heart, and being surrounded by all of this hardware was not that far flung from the surroundings in his cockpit.

The three monitors surrounding his desk were arranged in a crescent shape, each 36" wide, mounted on pedestals that brought them to eye-level height while he was seated. This gave him visual input similar to the pattern-recognition training that all pilots had to master quickly—there are just too many dials, screens and other indicators in a modern cockpit for a pilot to closely monitor each; instead, he scanned the various gauges and needles looking for indicators that were in approximately the right positions. That quick glance was reassurance that all was well; besides, the plane had audio clues, given in a gentle female voice, if something was headed in the wrong direction. However, somewhat smugly, Ash was confident he would never have to rely on that—his sharpened sense of situational awareness would preclude needing such a crutch meant for inferior pilots. Given his attention to detail, it really wasn’t a surprise that his office soon took on the look and feel of an actual cockpit.

Unfortunately, with his extensive flying experience and ability to simultaneously dissect multiple variables, he quickly mastered even the expert levels of those simulators. He purchased programs that were based on everything from WWI biplanes to modern-day fighters, but none of them truly simulated the real thing.

He soon decided to invest his free time in developing his own training application—one that would stretch even the most seasoned pilot. His active mind concocted all manner of things that could go wrong in an airplane, and there was no shortage of those potential points of failure. Even in the most modern aircraft, with multiple system redundancies designed to minimize risk, there was never going to be a way to eliminate all of it, not so long as a human being was in the cockpit.

CHAPTER 3

Ash moved to the Philippines to put as much distance as he could between his tragic past and what he hoped would be a better future. He almost didn’t care where he went and even thought about buying a one-way ticket to the first place he saw listed at the airport in Kabul, but knew better than to leave such an important decision completely to fate.

Another consideration was how to make a living and he knew he wanted to get into commercial aviation. He researched all of the major carriers—for obvious reasons, the U.S.-based airlines were omitted, and he soon found several openings posted with Filipino International Airlines (FIA). They had a solid safety record and generous compensation package, both of which readily appealed to Ash. Being in a tropical climate didn’t hurt either, as he was tired of the long winters in Afghanistan and looked forward to the change. He applied and was soon contacted for a phone interview that led to a trip to Manila for a face-to-face meeting with several of the airline’s staff. He was there for several days and had a chance to look around the city and marvel at how different it was from his home. Manila was a contrasting blend of the very poor and the very wealthy. But regardless of economic position, he found everyone to be friendly and helpful, not at all like back home. English was spoken nearly everywhere, and with his salary he would be able to afford a comfortable house in Makati, one of the city’s better neighborhoods. It was considered the financial center of Manila and, from the looks of all the construction going on, was indeed flourishing. There were glitzy hotels, high-rise office buildings, shopping malls, and fancy restaurants all within a short walk of his home. He was amazed at the affordable prices of nearly everything and quickly felt at ease.

When he was offered a First Officer’s position, he eagerly accepted and made arrangements to move his few personal items. After the accident, he had sold off most of his possessions, not wanting to be reminded of his lost family any more than he had to be. That made moving easier, and he settled into his new life in no time.

Ash’s flying expertise was soon noticed by his superiors, and he was quickly moved up the ranks, eventually being trained on the airlines’ prized platform, the B777. FIA was slowly expanding its fleet of larger, more advanced aircraft, and the 777 was at the top. He had only been with FIA for two years when, considered one of their best and most esteemed pilots, he was promoted to the rank of Captain.

His quick progression was really no surprise to anyone that knew him. Ash was, without question, one of the most meticulous pilots at his airline. He would often spend hours researching his upcoming flight routes, air traffic density, weather patterns and airport configurations (especially if he was travelling to a new location, which was infrequent but nonetheless an important consideration). Since some of his longer routes took him over vast swatches of desolate ocean, he became increasingly aware of the limitation of radar coverage over considerable stretches. This wouldn’t typically pose any serious concerns since Global Positioning Satellite (GPS) coverages were slowly expanding, but for Ash, this meant an unmitigated risk that his ever-active mind was determined to solve.

As part of his sophisticated home set-up, he subscribed to a real-time, flight-tracking service that had a downloadable desktop application that provided information about every aircraft in the air, at any given time. Each airplane icon was identified by either the closest radar signal, transponder emitter, or even by GPS in some cases. There were numerous overlays available, including basic queries for weather, call signs, company, air speed, altitude, and, most significantly to him, radar coverage. When he opened several instances of the application across his screens, he had an elegant display of whichever combination of variables that he desired, all of which could be viewed simultaneously.

He was particularly surprised by how few planes were identified via radar—he knew that coverage was much less extensive than the general public was aware of, but these overlays clearly demonstrated that to even the most casual observer.

Good information to be sure, but not exactly what he was looking for.

He desired a way to integrate his own simulated aircraft via a user interface, onto the projected overlays of actual traffic. To his knowledge, this had never been done, and he believed it would be a huge improvement in pilot training and even, to a lesser degree, improve his considerable flying and navigation skills. He wasn’t exactly sure how to accomplish this, but knew it could be done.

Ash had initially sought out technical assistance from his airline’s Information Technology (IT) department, believing they might be interested in helping to develop such technology. Of course, this meant they would need to invest significant sums of money (or so they thought) and time, not to mention having to delay other projects that were already scheduled for development and deployment—projects that would more closely contribute to revenue generation or cost reduction/avoidance. Needless to say, there was only mild interest in his proposal, and it was quickly forgotten by the executive whom he approached.

However, not everyone was so quick to dismiss his idea. There was a lower level programmer by the name of Rufus who happened to have overheard