Ghost Missile: The Clash for Control of the Stealth Weapon

By Wes Truitt

Ghost Missile is a thrilling story of espionage, murder, and revenge set in contemporary times. Obtaining the plans for a stealth missile, named Ghost, being developed for the U.S. Air Force and the CIA, is the objective of American moles controlled by Russia on orders from Vladimir Putin, who needs the missile to achieve global domination. The lead mole is an employee of Century Aerospace, the company developing the missile. The mole fears she has been unmasked by her supervisor, the head of the companys Washington Office. She arranges for a Russian assassin to terminate her boss while on vacation in Maine. This is where the book beginswith Nick Butlers murder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546237945

Wes Truitt

Wes Truitt was an executive at Northrop Grumman for 25 years serving as Executive Assistant to the Chairman/CEO and ending as Vice President-Europe, Middle East, Africa. He was involved with the B-2 stealth bomber and the YF-23 stealth fighter. He worked closely with the State and Defense Departments and the CIA while selling jet fighters all over the world. Later, he was Adjunct Professor at UCLAs Graduate School of Management and at Pepperdine Universitys School of Public Policy. His B.A. is from the University of Pennsylvania, where he was elected to Phi Beta Kappa, and his Ph.D. is from Columbia University, where he held several fellowships including the Presidents Fellowship. He earned a post-graduate Diploma from the University of Florence, Italy and was a National Science Foundation Scholar.

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© 2018 Wes Truitt. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/05/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-3793-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-3792-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-3794-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018904487

This is a work of fiction. It is the final book in the Stealth Trilogy.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

CHAPTER 1

Nick Butler is dead. He had been murdered.

His body is face down on the entry hall floor of his vacation house in Maine. A single bullet hole in his back is rimmed with scorch marks on his shirt and skin, indicating the shot was fired at point-blank range. He is lying in a patch of dried blood, facing into the house.

Careful not to disturb the crime scene, the detective cautiously steps past the body to investigate something written in the dust on the wood floor. It looks like the letters al. The deceased’s right-hand index finger is discolored.

What do you make of that? the Maine State Police detective asked the Knox County Sheriff standing in the open door, his shadow cast across the entry hall from brilliant morning sunlight. A cool, gentle breeze rustles the trees in the yard.

It looks like the guy still had some life in him after he was shot and tried to leave a clue as to who did it, the sheriff answered.

Well, at least that’s something to go on—the name Al or possibly two initials of a name. Is anybody around here named Al?

Not that I know of. But a lot of folks live on this island.

At that moment, a deputy sheriff brought an elderly caretaker up to the front door. He had discovered the body earlier that morning and called the sheriff’s office to report Butler had been killed.

Why were you at the house this morning? the sheriff asked the caretaker.

Because I wanted to say hello to Dr. Butler and make sure everything was okay now that he had come to open the house for the season. I look after his house and half-dozen others for the summer people during the off-season.

Do you know anybody on the island named Al?

Nope. Don’t ring a bell, he answered in his Down East accent.

Does anything look odd to you? the detective asked him.

The caretaker walked into the foyer, stood there for a full minute looking at Butler’s body and the floor around him, scratching the white stubble on his chin. Finally, the old man turned to the detective and said, There ain’t any dust on Vinalhaven Island.

What are you talking about? demanded the detective.

Just what I said. There ain’t no dust on the island. Look around. Do you see any dust? This house has been closed up since last fall, but there ain’t a speck of dust inside this house. That’s one of the reasons people have vacation houses here. They’re low maintenance.

Are you suggesting someone put dust there for Butler to write those letters? the detective asked.

I ain’t suggestin’ nothin’. This island is 15 miles from the mainland over open water. We don’t get dust way out here. The air is always pure—cold but pure.

So, somebody must have deliberately planted that dust and then used Butler’s finger to write those two letters in it, the detective conjectured to the sheriff.

Was Butler alone when he came to open the house for the season? the sheriff asked the caretaker.

He always comes alone. He likes to get the house ready for the season all by himself. He turns on the water, the gas, the electric, mows the lawn, clears the brush, makes repairs, that sort of thing. He wants the place to be ready when the family comes up from Virginia for the Memorial Day weekend.

So, he arrived yesterday, and you discovered the body this morning. Is that right? the detective asked.

Yes, sir.

And you identified the body as that of Nick Butler?

Yup.

Did you hear any gun shots?

Nope.

Did you see any strangers on the island yesterday or today?

No, sir. But this time of year lots of folks arrive for the summer.

What was Dr. Butler’s occupation?

He had something to do with airplanes. That’s all he ever told me.

We need to contact Mrs. Butler. Do you have her number?

Dr. Butler gave me this emergency number when he bought the house ten years ago, the caretaker said, pulling a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket, handing it to the detective.

Thanks for your help. We’ll let you know if we need you further.

The caretaker left the house to return to his cabin in the village near the ferry landing.

Send in the medical examiner and the forensic team, the detective ordered the sheriff. I want the photographer first. After he takes his pictures and I make a couple of phone calls, you and I need to see if anything’s missing from the house. This could have been a burglary, but with this strange dust and the letters on the floor the motive appears to be something else.

What’s your thinking at this point? the sheriff asked the detective.

Based on the dried blood and the condition of the body, it appears Butler was killed yesterday possibly by someone he knew, given the shot was in his back, fired at close range, and there was no forced entry.

The detective used the landline phone in the house to call the emergency number the caretaker had given him. There was no cell phone connection on the island being so far away from the nearest cell tower on the mainland in Rockland, Maine.

Century Aerospace, good morning, answered a receptionist.

Good morning. Does Nick Butler work in your office? the detective asked.

Yes, he does. Can I help you?

I’m Detective Mason Trudeau of the Maine State Police Department. Who is the person in charge of your office?

That would be Dr. Nick Butler. But he’s away on vacation. Can someone else help you?

Yes. Who’s in charge in his absence?

That’s Mr. Parker Stevens. He’s the Office Manager. I’ll connect you.

After a sort pause, a voice answered: Parker Stevens speaking.

Mr. Stevens, I’m Detective Mason Trudeau of the Maine State Police. I have terrible news to tell you. Dr. Butler was shot and killed at his vacation home here in Maine.

What? I don’t believe it!

Unfortunately, it’s true. Dr. Butler had given the caretaker this number to call in the event of emergencies. But what I really need to do is contact his family. Do you have a number for them?

Yes, of course. I’m reeling from this news. Who would want to kill such a wonderful man as Nick Butler?

That’s exactly what I intend to find out. What was Dr. Butler’s position in your office?

He’s a Senior Vice President of Century Aerospace and head of the corporation’s Washington Office. We’re located in Rosslyn, Virginia, across the Potomac River from D.C. He reports directly to Century’s Chairman of the Board and CEO, Craig Harper. Incidentally, Dr. Butler has a Ph.D.; he’s not a physician.

Thanks for the clarification. Do you know anyone by the name ‘Al’ or someone having the initials ‘al’?

Are they lower case letters or capital letters?

They’re lower case.

Then it could be the first two letters of al-Qaeda.

Do you have any reason to suspect a Muslim terrorist group would want to kill Dr. Butler?

Yes, there may be reasons. For now, I’ll give you Nick’s home phone number so you can inform Mrs. Butler. Her name is Nicole, by the way. I also want to give you the phone number of his best friend. He can provide more information about ‘al’. Parker Stevens gave the two numbers.

Whose is the second number?

That’s the private number of the Director of the National Clandestine Service, which is part of the Central Intelligence Agency. The man’s name is Byron Mackinsey.

Suddenly what appeared to be an ordinary homicide case took on a level of importance that surprised Detective Trudeau.

After thanking Stevens for the information, Trudeau phoned Mrs. Butler.

Hello, she answered.

Is this Mrs. Nicole Butler? the detective asked.

Yes, it is.

Mrs. Butler, I have terrible news for you. My name is Mason Trudeau. I’m a detective with the Maine State Police Department. I’m calling from your summer house on Vinalhaven Island. I am very sorry to tell you your husband is dead. He was shot and killed. I’m terribly sorry.

What? How could this be? Who would want to kill Nick?

That’s what I intend to find out, ma’am. I’m sorry to have to bother you with a question or two at this time. Did your husband have any friends or enemies named ‘Al’ or know someone with those initials?

What are you talking about? Nick didn’t have enemies and I don’t know anyone named Al. Nicole Butler began to choke up.

Realizing he was going to get no help from the grief-stricken woman, Trudeau backed off. Let me give you my office number, Mrs. Butler, so you can contact me here in Maine. I’m handling the investigation. You will want to inform other members of your family and arrange for burial once our crime lab in Augusta completes its analysis. Trudeau gave his number.

Can I come up to the island and see Nick’s body?

You can come to Vinalhaven if you like, but his body will be taken to the crime lab in Augusta today. You will be unable to see him for a few days, I’m afraid.

Nevertheless, I’m going to fly up there today with my step-son, Peter. Can we stay at the house?

Yes, by tonight our investigation in the house should be complete. Do you have any objections to my phoning Mr. Byron Mackinsey to report this tragedy? I was given his name and number by Mr. Stevens in your husband’s office.

Parker had a good idea. Yes, do call Byron. He and Nick were very good friends. He should hear this officially from you.

Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you over the next several days, Mrs. Butler. Again, I’m terribly sorry for your loss.

Detective Trudeau dialed the CIA private number Stevens gave him.

Hello, said a male voice.

Hello, sir, I am Detective Mason Trudeau of the Maine State Police calling for Mr. Byron Mackinsey. Is that you, sir?

Yes. How did you get this number?

Parker Stevens in Nick Butler’s office gave it to me. Mrs. Butler asked me to call with some tragic news. Are you Mr. Mackinsey?

Yes, I am. What’s the tragic news?

I’m very sorry to inform you that Nick Butler was shot and killed at his vacation home on Vinalhaven Island in Maine. I’m the detective handling the investigation.

What? Nick’s been killed?

I’m afraid it’s true, sir.

How did this happen?

We only know the caretaker found his body at the house this morning on a routine visit and reported his death to the local sheriff’s office on the island.

You said Nicole asked you to call me. How is she taking the news?

As you can imagine she’s grief-stricken. She said she’ll fly up to the island today with her step-son, Peter. Before she arrives, the body will be moved to our crime lab in Augusta for the medical examination and autopsy.

As soon as we hang up, I’ll phone Nicole and offer my help.

Sir, there is something very peculiar about this crime scene. Dr. Butler’s body was lying face down in the entry vestibule of his house with a single bullet hole in his back. There was no forced entry. He appears to have written two letters in some dust by his body. The letters are ‘al.’ Does that mean anything to you?

It could. I’ll have to think about it.

Parker Stevens at Butler’s Century Aerospace office thought it could refer to al-Qaeda.

He may be right. Anything else about the crime scene I should know about?

Yes, and this is the oddest part. There is no dust on that island, being far from the mainland over open water. It takes a ferry over an hour to travel from Rockland on the coast out to the island.

Yes, I know. I’ve visited Nick and Nicole at that house and remember the long ferry ride. Well, how could he have written those letters if there is no dust?

That’s what I have to find out. It seems the murderer planted the dust there and wrote those two letters with Butler’s right-hand index finger, which was discolored.

Give me your phone number, detective. I want to follow up on this and get back to you. There may be some national security implications to this case. You see, Nick’s company, Century Aerospace, is engaged in highly classified work for the Defense Department and for us at the CIA. Foreign intelligence services would be interested in that work. Check to see if there are files or notes in his summer house having anything to do with missiles.

With missiles, you say?

Yes, missiles. Nick was deeply involved in a classified missile program at Century Aerospace. If there are any such items, segregate them and hold them for me. I’ll have an agent come to the island this afternoon to assist you, if that’s okay with you.

I’m glad to have your Agency’s help, sir. Thank you.

Mackinsey ordered an agent from the CIA’s New York City field office to fly to Maine immediately to assist the police with the investigation. He was instructed to report directly to Mackinsey with any information he might find regarding classified documents. He doubted Butler, a man deeply experienced handling classified information, would have such material with him in an unsecure location, but he needed to be sure. Mackinsey then phoned Nicole Butler to offer his help.

Nicole, I just heard from the Maine State Police detective about Nick’s death. I’m terribly sorry. Nick was such a fine man and a very good friend. We’re all going to miss him.

Oh Byron, I’m beside myself. This is such a shock. I just phoned Peter. He’s coming over right away.

The detective told me you plan to go to the island today with Peter. Can I help you with transportation or in any other way?

Thank you, Byron, but Parker at Nick’s office already informed Craig Harper, Century’s CEO, about Nick. He called to offer one of the company’s planes to fly me up to Maine. We’ll be leaving from Dulles as soon as I can get it together here.

Nicole, I want to caution you about something. Nick’s murder appears to have been premeditated by someone. It was no random act. He was targeted. I want you to be very careful when you get to the island. I’ll have an agent there who can offer some protection.

Oh, my God! Someone singled out Nick to murder him! Why?

That’s what we have to find out. I’m calling Lamar Williams right away to ask him to assign FBI agents to the case. This could have national security implications. I’m telling you this so you will be extremely cautious.

Thanks, Byron. I’ll call you from the island.

Lamar, this is Byron, he said, speaking to the FBI Director on his private line.

Hello, Byron. Nice to hear from you. What’s up?

I have terrible news. Nick Butler was murdered yesterday at his vacation house in Maine. A State Police detective phoned me a short time ago at Nicole’s request to inform me.

Oh, my God, Byron! What horrible news! Nick was such a patriot! He did so much for our country.

Indeed, he did. I must tell you I believe his murder has national security implications. You see, the perp planted evidence next to the body. He put dust on the floor by the body and wrote two letters in it. The fact is there is no dust on that island. The detective suspects the perp planted the dust and wrote those letters with Nick’s right-hand index finger, which was discolored.

I remember Nick telling me about the dust-free conditions there. I was his guest at the house a few summers ago. I believe I was the only black man on Vinalhaven Island! We had a wonderful time. Nick even took me lobster fishing but we didn’t catch any.

Yes, Nick was a very good man and wonderful friend.

Was he involved in any classified work at Century Aerospace for your Agency or for DOD?

That’s what I’m getting at. Nick was working on a stealth missile program for the Air Force and for us at CIA.

Do you think he had any classified material with him?

Knowing how careful Nick was, I doubt it. But the perp may have suspected otherwise. I’m sending an agent to the island to secure any classified material.

What were the two letters?

They were ‘al’.

Well, if it was al-Qaeda, why would they want to give us that clue? It doesn’t make sense, Lamar Williams conjectured.

I agree. That’s why I suspect Russian intelligence made the hit and planted those letters to give us a false lead, replied the Director of CIA’s National Clandestine Service. As far as the criminal case is concerned, I believe the Maine State Police will do a good job investigating it, but for national security reasons I hope you will look into it yourself.

I’ll assign FBI agents immediately out of the Boston field office. They can work with your agent on the scene. Give me the State Police detective’s name and phone number.

Mackinsey gave the information.

Thanks for calling, Byron. I’ll take it from here, said the Director of the FBI.

That same morning, from an international pay telephone in Boston’s Logan Airport, Serge Trikov phoned Moscow. He spoke with Dmitri Simanova, Director of Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service, to report Nick Butler’s death.

CHAPTER 2

By late afternoon the medical examiner and forensic experts completed their on-site investigation. They took Butler’s fingerprints from his body, gathered dried blood samples from the hall floor, collected and bagged dust samples from the same area, took soil samples from the yard immediately outside the house, and carefully removed Butler’s wallet, keys, and other items from his pockets.

They dusted for fingerprints in the foyer and in the den where they found Butler’s briefcase. Then, lastly, they put Butler’s corpse in a body bag and carried it outside to an ambulance.

Two Boston-based FBI agents had arrived by helicopter from Portsmouth, landing on the civil aviation airstrip on the island. One of the agents accompanied a state police officer to the helicopter and helped stow the body inside. They boarded the chopper and flew directly to Augusta, Maine to the State Police Crime Laboratory.

The other FBI agent and the CIA agent, who had arrived from New York, joined the state police detective inside the house, searching for any clues that might explain the motive behind the murder or the identity of the perpetrator.

This was going to take some time. The house was large. It had two stories, four bedrooms, three and ½ baths, a living room, dining room, den, and country kitchen. It was wrapped on two sides by enclosed porches, one of which had an unobstructed view of Penobscot Bay and the Atlantic Ocean.

The forensic team, having dusted the foyer and den for fingerprints, found none except Butler’s. The detective and the Federal agents likewise found no clues. The house was undisturbed except for Nick’s briefcase. It had been opened. None of the investigators could determine if anything was missing. The second FBI agent reported this information to the Director of the FBI and was ordered to depart. The CIA agent reported these findings to the Director of the National Clandestine Service and was ordered to remain at the house.

Having taken the 4:30 car ferry out of Rockland, Nicole Butler arrived at the house at 6:00 accompanied by her 36-year-old step-son, Peter Butler. The State Police Detective was waiting for her. He offered his condolences again and informed her Nick’s body had been flown to the Augusta crime lab. The crime scene in the foyer had been cleaned up and the dust had been taken out. Trudeau pointed out where the body had been found and summarized what had happened subsequently with the investigation.

Now, Mrs. Butler, you and your son can relax, Trudeau told her. Sheriff’s deputies have been posted to keep a 24-hour watch on the house, so you will be safe staying here.

"It was probably foolish of me to fly up here today, knowing I