The Cold War Conspiracy

                                               Warning to the Reader:
The following is delicate material. It is classified by the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) as "Beyond Top-Secret." Should this information fall into the wrong hands, any knowledge of you will be disavowed and your records will be terminated. You are advised to be careful, as there may be enemies listening in. Good luck, Agent Alpha. We will support this mission in any way possible.
Sincerely,
Allen W. Dulles,
Head of the CIA

                                                           Prologue:
August 13, 1960
Vandenberg Air Force Base
Santa Maria, California
10:30 p.m. Pacific Standard Time

The California air was humid as he made his way to his destination. He knew he had to move quickly. He couldn't be seen completing the task he'd been given, by forces much greater than himself. Glancing around to be sure nobody was watching, he snuck into the shack where the American satellite Discoverer 14 was stored.  He didn't close the door; it would take too much time and make too much noise.  He drew closer to the satellite and stuck a small tracking device on its massive, metallic hull.  He smiled, admiring the instrument that would assure his master's victory.  Then, he exited the shack as quickly as he'd come, vanishing into the shadows that danced across the Santa Maria landscape…

                                                          Chapter One:
August 13, 1960
Arlington Hall
Arlington, Virginia
10:30 a.m. Eastern Standard Time

Far away from the Discoverer satellite, cryptologist Jonathan Dunlap was working on the project that would change his life. Not only was he about to make an incredible discovery, but it would also be the last project he worked on before dying.  He was typing a digital communication to the head of VENONA, a top secret Government project which was supposed to report on the latest communications intercepted by the U.S. regarding Soviet actions.  He was just ready to hit send when one of the terminals next to him, apparently left on, beeped. He went over to check it.  It had picked up an encoded communication. He gazed at the code.  I can't stand it when things don't make any sense; I'll have to crack this code.  He grabbed a pencil and paper from his desk and wrote down the ciphered letters. He tried a few methods that were most common in enciphered messages. Nothing is working…Still, he was determined to figure it out.
He tried a few more methods.  Eureka!  I found it.  This isn't good... not good at all.  I need to tell someone.  He began furiously scribbling a warning to the others in the lab on the paper he'd taken from his desk.  He only had time to write a few lines before his heart gave out.

                                                    Chapter Two:
August 14, 1960
Arlington Hall
Arlington, Virginia
6:00 a.m. Eastern Standard Time 
The head of the VENONA Project, Joseph Wallinsky, wasn't told about Dunlap's ordeal until the next day.  He was sending two top-notch cryptologists, Matthew Bellville and Lindsay Tompkins, to try and examine the cryptic clue Dunlap had left behind. Lindsay's high heels clicked down the corridor as she entered, swaggering in a way that made her blond hair bounce up and down while she walked. Beside her was Matthew Bellville, a humble but brilliant cryptologist who had bailed VENONA out of a situation involving Soviet spies a few years back. He was muscular, with chestnut skin and short brown hair. He had studied cryptology at John Hopkins University, where he met and befriended his future boss, Joseph Wallinsky.  Bellville’s brown eyes were darting about nervously, as if sensing the tension in the air.  Finally, they reached the office where Dunlap worked.  It was a massive room, large enough to house the three computer terminals humming inside.  Bellville went over to Dunlap's desk and examined the paper that was on the table.  Looking at it, he gasped in shock.
"What is it?"  Lindsay said.
"Look," Bellville leaned closer to her so that she could see the paper, and she, too gasped in shock. She glanced a second time to make sure that she'd read right. Written in plain, decoded text were the words:
Do not let the following message leave the room.
What I am going to tell you will threaten the entire country within twenty four hours.
"But what is it he’s trying to tell us?"  Lindsay asked.
Bellville shrugged.
"The code is going to take a while to break."  But do we have the time to spare? 
Bellville stared down at the code that was before his eyes and wondered. These are very volatile times...we must break the code quickly. He and Lindsay sat at desks near each other and began to work on the code, not knowing what was to come.  They didn't expect that one simple message could plunge them forever into a world of secrecy, lies, and betrayal where nothing was quite what it seemed on the surface.  They had no clue enemies were plotting against them, and had been for many hours.  They were nothing more than pieces of the puzzle, pawns in the game of people far wiser and more resourceful than they could ever hope to be.  They would continue to be in the dark, at least until Dunlap's code was deciphered.
Lindsay glanced down at Dunlap's mysterious message.
"Nothing makes sense here," she concluded.
"My sentiments exactly."
Whatever the message said, it was obviously not meant for just anyone.
They took another look at the code, approaching it from all different angles, trying this method and that algorithm.
"I don't see any solution to this at all," Bellville sighed.
"There has to be something we're not seeing."  She thought it over, taking it step by step.
Still, nothing gave her any insight as to Dunlap's message.
What could be so important that he had to keep it hidden from unworthy eyes?
Bellville was next to her, clacking away on the keyboard of a lit up computer terminal.
"I've got it!" he announced.
"What'd you find?"  Lindsay asked excitedly.  He pointed to the read out, and Lindsay read the words that appeared there:
THE DIGRAPH CIPHER
THE DIGRAPH CIPHER IS A COMPLEX METHOD OF ENCODING IN WHICH THE MESSAGE TO BE CODED IS DIVIDED INTO SEGMENTS THAT ARE TWO LETTERS LONG (DIGRAPHS).  EACH DIGRAPH IS THEN REPLACED WITH ANOTHER ONE BASED ON ITS POSITION IN A 26 x 26 LETTER SQUARE. FOR EXAMPLE, THE DIGRAPH FOR THE WORD “IS” WOULD BE THE DIGRAPH WHERE THE COLUMN “I” MEETS THE ROW “S”. THE 26x26 SQUARE LEAVES 676 POSSIBLE DIGRAPHS (26 ROWS TIMES 26 COLUMNS.) IN ORDER TO SOLVE IT, THE CODE BREAKER MUST FIND THE VALUE OF ALL 676 DIGRAPHS. 
"You think that might be it?"  Lindsay asked excitedly.
"It's worth a shot," Bellville shrugged. Lindsay gave a slow nod.
"The only problem is the fact that there are so many digraphs," Lindsay pointed out.
Bellville had been thinking the same thing.
"Not to mention we're low on time," he added.
Lindsay nodded; she certainly had not forgotten that the message was time-sensitive.
"How long ago did Dunlap write this?"  She asked.
Bellville checked his watch and calculated quickly. When he was done, he glared at Lindsay.
"Just about seven and a half hours ago."
They would have to move fast.

                                                  Chapter Three:

"Where do we go from here?"  Bellville asked.  Lindsay was silent; she didn't have an answer.  He glanced again at the code that Dunlap had written.  Suddenly, Lindsay was struck by inspiration.
"I have an idea."
"What?"
"It'll take us forever to crack the code with all those possibilities, but what if we got a bunch of the other cryptologists to work on it?"
Bellville did the math in his head: If we could get more cryptologists working on Dunlap's code at once, we’d each have much less to worry about!  
"Lindsay, that's brilliant!"
 Bellville couldn't imagine why they hadn't thought of that before… nor could he imagine what was to come.

                                                     Chapter Four:
Back at Arlington Hall, Lindsay and Bellville had gathered a team of cryptologists to work on the code, but they were still no better off than they'd been when the whole ordeal had started.  Bellville hadn't yet started his work, as he was looking over at Lindsay's work.
"Anything yet?"  Bellville asked.  Lindsay shook her head.
"You?"
“No.”
Even with four other cryptologists working on it, they seemed to be getting nowhere. Bellville had no suggestions, so he returned to his own work.
"I just wish there was something that repeated so we could see what if it always meant the same thing," Lindsay said.
Bellville took another look at the mysterious message.
"Look at this!" Bellville showed the message to Lindsay.
How could we have missed that?  She wondered. 
"There are repetitions." 
"Now we just have to find out what the repeated digraphs mean."
They decided to go through the message and circle all the repetitions they found. Lindsay began work on that and dictated the repeated digraphs to Bellville, who wrote them on a separate piece of paper:
RP RP RP
"We've got 'RP' repeated three times.  It seems to be important to the message, but what does it mean?”
Bellville glanced at the message, knowing that there were 676 possible meanings of that one digraph.  I know there's not much time, but I have an idea.
"'RP'…"  Lindsay mused.  "It doesn't seem to be helping much."
"Not yet… but we can put everyone on it at once." Bellville could barely contain himself.
Lindsay did some quick math in her head: Six hundred and seventy-six digraphs divided by six cryptologists…is still almost one hundred twelve solutions each.
"We need more people; this will take too long.  If we get ten people in all, we each only need to work on sixty-seven solutions; it's better than one twelve."
Bellville gave a nod of agreement; the faster this code was cracked, the better.

                                                       Chapter Five:

Arlington Hall
7:00 a.m. Eastern Standard Time

"Looks like we've cracked the code," Bellville announced.
"What's it say?" asked a bald cryptologist wearing thin-rimmed glasses.
 Lindsay read the letters off:
"'The Soviets are coming.  They have made a discovery: a fourteen ton warhead.'"
That's incredible!  The implications of this are unbelievable.  
What he didn't know was the length that his enemies would go to in order to cover up the crisis.
"We need to get this to Wallinsky… fast," Lindsay said.
"Good idea. He'll know what to do; besides, he wanted us to give him the solution as soon as possible."
Lindsay handed Bellville the encrypted message and he took it to the office where Wallinsky worked.  Bellville exited before Wallinsky had a chance to really get a good look at the message.
After Wallinsky took a look, he tried to summon Bellville back.
"Mr. Bellville, wait!"  But Matthew Bellville was already gone. Wallinsky glanced down at the message.  Something is off here.

                                                          Chapter Six:
Wallinsky re-read the code to make sure he'd gotten it right.  He had.  He began muttering the message aloud to himself, as if that would somehow make more sense of it than before.
"‘The Soviets are coming.  They have made a discovery: a fourteen-ton warhead.’  "
Something's strange about that code, but I can't seem to put my finger on it.  Before he had a chance to figure out what it was, one of his assistants ran in the room.
"Sir, I just got a call from the White House.  President Kennedy requests your presence there.  He says it's urgent."
"Thank you."
Whatever is wrong with that message will have to wait until later.
Wallinsky hadn't gotten very far down the hall when a thought struck him suddenly:
The code!  I should bring it.
He turned back to his office to go and get it, but realized he should probably get going. He reversed his direction a second time, went outside without the code, and climbed into his car.  Once inside, he glanced at his watch: 7:30 a.m. Whatever the President wants to talk about, he'd better make it fast.  The car took off from Arlington Hall, leaving Wallinsky's mind churning with thoughts: Why did Dunlap's clue give me such a strange feeling?  Why does the President want to see me? And, worst of all, what if we don't get answers in time?

                                                      Chapter Seven:
The White House
Washington, D.C.
8:30 a.m.

Wallinsky had just arrived and was trying to calm himself as he walked into the White House.  The sound of one of the White House's secretaries calling him shattered his frenzied state.
"Hello.  Can I have your name, please?"
"Joseph Wallinsky.  I have an appointment with the President."
The secretary glanced down at her clipboard and nodded.
"You're cleared."
Wallinsky thanked her and walked straight ahead to the door she'd pointed to, which was labeled Oval Office.  He opened the door slowly, as if unsure. He'd expected to see the President and his Cabinet, but the young John F. Kennedy was alone. His tanned face turned towards Wallinsky as he entered.
"Mr. Wallinsky.  Glad you could make it."
"Good morning, Mr. President."
"Please, call me John, but that's enough with formalities.  I assume you know why I called you?"
"No.  My secretary just told me it was urgent."
"This morning John Dunlap died and left behind a message, the contents of which threaten the entire country."
"Yes…"
"I've called you here to ask for your help."
Why would the most powerful man on Earth need my help?
"OK..."
"I need your help deciding where to go from here."
Before the Director could reply, a young man rushed into the Oval Office.  Wallinsky and Kennedy both turned to look at him.  He held up a hand apologetically.
"Sorry to disturb you, but I've got an urgent call from one of the workers on the VENONA Project."
Kennedy didn't seem so much angry as concerned.
"Excuse me one second," he said to Wallinsky.
The Director gave an understanding nod and Kennedy went to see what the caller wanted.

                                           Chapter Eight:
Oval Office
When Kennedy came back from his phone call, he wasn't quite as chipper as he seemed before. In fact, he seemed slightly disappointed.
"Is something the matter, sir?"
"It's the call. Someone from the VENONA Project said something…"
"What is it?"
"According to the cryptologists in Arlington, one of your scientists misinterpreted Dunlap's code."

                                         
                                           Chapter Nine:
That's why it seemed strange; it was wrong! Wallinsky reflected. Kennedy glanced at the clock.
"Not only that, it's almost nine o'clock; we have just over an hour before doomsday."
It sounded like a long time, but Wallinsky knew it would go fast.
"In that case, I guess VENONA better go into overdrive. But what do we do?"
Kennedy shrugged.
"There's nothing we can do; we can't handle the crisis until we know what the crisis is. All we can do is sit and wait for the call to come... and hope like heck it comes in time."
I wish I could help...I hate feeling so powerless, Wallinsky thought.
Whoever the enemy was, they seemed to have the upper hand at the moment.

                                                 Chapter Ten:
CIA Headquarters
Nadia Johnson was still shocked at what she'd been told. If Dr. Long was correct, this discovery had to get to Dulles as soon as possible. She knew Dulles had a reputation for staying calm under pressure, not to mention he would have the authority to act on this potent information.
"I-I'll be right back," she stammered.  She headed for Dulles' office, still in a state of disbelief.  Unfortunately she wouldn't make it to her destination.

                                              Chapter Eleven:

Oval Office
10:00 a.m.

President Kennedy was praying silently for a call from VENONA.  They had only an hour and a half before the event Dunlap had warned them about took place, and it didn't seem like the cryptologists were any further along than when the meeting had commenced. Kennedy was getting very nervous. Something has to be done... but what? All of a sudden, inspiration struck.  Kennedy ran outside the office to use the secretary's phone so his line was still free to get a call from VENONA.
"Can you get me the number for the Head of the CIA?" 
One of his secretaries nodded and began flipping through Kennedy's address book to "D."
She found it and handed it to him.  He thanked her and quickly rushed to the nearest phone.  He glanced at the card in his hand:
Dulles, Allen
Head of the Central Intelligence Agency
Langley, VA
(235) 766-8102
He began dialing, but got a busy signal. Just great! If I can't get through in time, the whole country will pay for it. It was then that Wallinsky entered, holding the President's personal phone.
"Dulles is on the phone, sir. He has something important to tell you." Kennedy hung up the secretary's phone, feeling like a fool.  He took the receiver and listened to the man's grave message.
"Uh-huh... yes."
Kennedy did more listening than talking.  When the call was over, the President was gaping in shock.
"What happened, sir?"  Wallinsky asked.
"Dulles said he sent one of his agents to investigate Dunlap's murder. She came into his office and seemed to be trying to tell him something important, but she was murdered before she could finish telling him what she wanted to say."
Wallinsky was just as shocked as President Kennedy was. Kennedy turned back to the phone and dialed Dulles' number.
"Hello.  I need to speak to Allen Dulles immediately."
A few seconds later, Dulles came on the other end.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Allen.  It's President Kennedy. Listen, I want this agent's death investigated as soon as possible."
"Okay.  We have a forensics lab all ready in Langley."
"Good. And I want to know as soon as there are any results."
"Will do." Then Dulles hung up.
Wallinsky could tell the President was under pressure. He caught a glimpse of the clock:
10:20 a.m. Time was ticking...

                                             Chapter Twelve:
Oval Office
10:29 a.m.

We're dead, a voice inside Kennedy told him. The country he'd helped to raise from the depths of the Cold War was now in danger. With just one minute left, and still no answer from VENONA, things were looking pretty grim. He'd already dispatched the nation's sharpest minds to solve the coded message, to no avail; what else was there to do but sit and await inevitable defeat?
I'm a failure as a leader.  Kennedy was trying to crush the thought, but it remained, like an unwelcome visitor in the house of his mind.  He wanted to defeat it, to rise above the challenge and beat it just like he'd always done, but the challenge seemed too hard to conquer, the mountain too tall to climb.  He sighed and put a hand on his head; he had a migraine the size of a small country.  Little did he know, one event was about to erase all his unhappiness in the matter of a few seconds.  Just when all hope seemed lost, the Oval Office's phone rang, giving Kennedy the slightest ray of hope.  Could it be?  It didn't seem possible; it would have taken a miracle.  He advanced slowly to the phone, as if unsure whether this was real or a dream.
"Hello?"  His voice was wavering uncharacteristically.
"President Kennedy?"
"Yes.  Are you from the VENONA Project?" Please let him say yes…
"Yes, I am.  We have the answer to Dunlap's code.  For real this time."  Kennedy heard his desk clock alarm ring.  In horror, Kennedy recalled the time he'd set it to go off at: 10:30 a.m., exactly 24 hours after Dunlap had written the code.

Chapter Thirteen:

CIA Forensics Lab
Langley, VA
10:30 a.m. Eastern Standard Time

Forensic Detective Robert Redford examined the bullet he'd recovered from the scene of the murder.  He knew both that he was working under a time constraint, and that he could use the marks made in the bullet by the manufacturing process to identify the gun's model.  He brought the bullet under a magnifying glass to get a better look at it. He began noticing the number and positioning of the markings on the bullet and recorded his observations.  Being a Forensic Scientist, he'd dealt with a fair share of murders and had learned what different markings on the bullet meant.  Within a few moments, he had an answer as to the type of gun.  If he played his cards right, he could get the murderer as well.
                                                        
                                                       Chapter Fourteen:
Oval Office
10:30 a.m.

"You said you solved Dunlap's code?" President Kennedy almost didn't dare to believe it. But isn't it already too late?
"Yes, sir.  It says 'I have intercepted a Soviet communication. Discoverer 14 is in danger.  It will be destroyed within twenty-four hours.'"
Kennedy was not as relieved as he thought he would be; Discoverer was the American's first spy satellite.  If it were destroyed, the Soviets would surely get a leg up in the Cold War, which meant mass hysteria, the White House coming under verbal attacks from all sides, anarchy, and total chaos.
"We're awaiting your orders, sir," The cryptologist said.
Kennedy didn't know what to say.
"Just remain where you are; I'll handle this."  When Kennedy had hung up, he marched outside without so much as a word to Director Wallinsky.  He went up to his secretary's desk and asked her how quickly she could summon the President's personal jet, Air Force One.
"I'll have it here in five minutes," she promised. The President nodded to show this was satisfactory and then waited while the secretary dialed the Secret Service to prepare the plane.  While he waited, there were plenty of interesting events going on in other parts of the country.

                                                  Chapter Fifteen:
CIA Forensics Lab
Langley, VA
10:35 a.m.

Redford double-checked his work.  Yes, he was sure he'd been correct. All the signs on the gun had pointed to an AK-47 Assault Rifle, which was manufactured in none other than Russia.  He was almost certain the Soviets were to blame for Nadia's death, and possibly for the event that was threatening the country. Something inside of him told him to call the Oval Office and report his findings, and yet there was a stronger instinct telling him to dig deeper.  Somewhere, behind the veil of secrecy that he'd grown accustomed to, there lurked a skillful criminal who had made it their task to ruin the first (and possibly last) American reconnaissance mission involving a spy satellite.

                                                    Chapter Sixteen:
Washington, D.C.
President Kennedy was about to board the plane with Wallinsky trailing just behind him. Kennedy's mind was overflowing with disturbing thoughts: What if we're too late?  What if Nadia's killer is never found and the satellite is destroyed? Things were already bad enough with the mass hysteria of the Cold War, but now peoples’ fears of the Communists would only be increased.  He tried to calm himself as he stepped on board. Air Force One was about to take off when the plane's phone rang. Kennedy answered it quickly.  When he hung up, Kennedy's face had gone pale.
"What's the matter, sir?”  Wallinsky asked.
"That call was from one of my secretaries.  Discoverer is in the air already; we're too late."  
Wallinsky shuddered to think of the repercussions that might come from the Discoverer crisis.  What he didn't know was that Kennedy wasn't finished yet. And what the Director was about to hear wasn't good news.
"I'm afraid there's more," Kennedy sighed.  Wallinsky's eyes glanced at the President, suddenly attentive.
"Our radar has detected a missile going up from Cuba.  Guess where it's going."
Wallinsky felt so powerless, so useless to everyone as Air Force One lifted off the ground.
Kennedy rushed to the phone and dialed the digits quickly.
"Hello?"
The voice belonged to the head of Vandenberg's Mission Control, Jim Flaherty.
"This is President Kennedy.  I have been informed of a terrible crisis involving the satellite you just sent up.  The Soviets have sent a missile up; I need a bomber to shoot the missile down."
"Will do, sir."  Kennedy thanked the man and was about to hang up when a question popped into his head.
"How quickly can you get it up there?"
"Well, I don't know..."  Kennedy had no patience whatsoever for the man.
"The entire country's in trouble, for crying out loud!  Just get it as quickly as possible."
"Yes, sir."
On any other day, Flaherty would have gotten upset if someone had talked to him like that, but he knew now wasn't the time; the President obviously had too much to think about already.  Flaherty hung up and gave the order to send a bomber up.  All he could do was pray it got there in time.
                                                    
                                        Chapter  Seventeen:

CIA Forensics Lab
Langley

Redford was going about his work more carefully now. He set the gun down on a table to go and get a bag of special dust that could reveal any fingerprints left on the weapon. He knew finding Nadia's killer was of crucial importance. He sprinkled some of the white dust onto it, and then went to go get a brush to dust the gun off with. Brushing it off, he saw a set of fingerprints on the trigger.
Perfect, he thought.  Rarely ever was the evidence in a case so definite or conclusive.  He flipped a switch, turning on a small, experimental computer that could be moved from one place to another which contained a special database that could match a set of fingerprints to their owner and had over 50,000 people in it.  This was both a blessing and a curse: with 50,000 people to choose from, he was sure he'd get a match somewhere.  Unfortunately, there were so many suspects, it would take time to narrow the list…and time was something they didn't have a lot of.

Chapter Eighteen:

Vandenberg Air Force Base
The base was alive with technicians, engineers, mechanics, and scientists scrambling here and there.  They seemed to be more like people in a city, rushing back and forth, each one busy with their own tasks and chores.  Flaherty had been called in to give the bomber a final check-up before it was cleared to fly.  He was under pressure; he had to check the plane thoroughly, and yet, he didn't have time to double-check every minute detail. He glanced the plane over: it looked ready to fly, but he knew better; he checked the inner workings, the engine and all the things that made it tick.  When he was sure he'd checked every detail, he cleared the plane to fly.  He thought he'd checked and double-checked everything before it lifted off.  He was wrong.

                                           Chapter Nineteen:

Airspace over Vandenberg
The plane had lifted off and hadn't had time to gain much altitude when an unmarked plane flew near it.
"Be careful. There's another plane nearby."  Flaherty had seen the plane on radar and was taking no chances.
"Thanks, Vandenberg," the pilot replied gratefully into the radio.
The unmarked plane flew closer to the American bomber, which was called Rhapsody.
Now Flaherty was very worried.
"Rhapsody, the plane's coming up on your left. You have permission to open fire if necessary."
The Pilot made no reply because something was flying at the Rhapsody.  Somehow, the pilot had a feeling it wasn't a gift.

Chapter Twenty Two:

CIA Forensics Lab
Langley

The fingerprint database program was about a quarter of a way through its search, and no suspects had been found yet.  Redford glanced at the dismal results:
SUSPECTS SEARCHED: 12,500
MATCH(ES) FOUND: 0
SUSPECTS REMAINING: 37,500
ESTIMATED TIME REMAINING: 60 MIN
An hour?  He would have to wait sixty minutes just to possibly end up with no matches. He wished he could somehow speed the machine up and was staring at it when it beeped. He glanced at the screen:
MATCHES FOUND: ONE.
Bingo.  He'd just solved one of the biggest murder cases in the country at the moment... or at least, that was what he thought.

         Chapter Twenty Three:

Airspace over Vandenberg
An explosion ripped through the Rhapsody's back end, shaking Capt. Daniel Hawkins to the core.
"What do we do?" his navigator, Michael Lincoln asked.
"Return fire!"  Hawkins' had always had a short temper, but in these sorts of times, it was even worse than usual.
Lincoln didn't want to argue, but his instinct got the better of him.
"I don't know if that's a possibility..."
"And why not?"  Hawkins pressed.
Lincoln pointed to the meter that showed the remaining gas level.
"We're low on fuel."  Wonderful, Hawkins thought. The base they'd flown out of was full of engineers and rocket scientists, yet nobody had thought to check the fuel level?
"I guess we don't have much choice to refuel," Hawkins said.  But what if the other plane follows us?
It was a chance they'd have to take.  Hawkins turned to Lincoln.
"We're going back to Vandenberg."
"You sure that's a good idea?"
"If I wasn't sure, do you think I'd tell you to do it?"  He snapped. Considering the alternative, Lincoln agreed with him.  "Ok, then."  He grabbed the radio and began speaking into it as Hawkins took their plane closer to the ground.
"Vandenberg, this is Michael Lincoln. Do you copy?"
"We read you, Lincoln. Over."
"We're running out of fuel, so we're coming back to base. Over."
"Affirmative. We'll have gas ready when you arrive."
"Thanks, Vandenberg."
"What's your altitude?"
Lincoln checked the corresponding meter.
"We're at 1500 feet and falling. We'll see you soon."
"Roger."  
Then, Lincoln stopped transmitting. They were going down faster now, free falling through Earth's atmosphere. Then, like lightning, a plane came from out of nowhere. That's what I was afraid of, Lincoln thought.
"Captain, they're right on our tail."
Lincoln spoke urgently into the radio.
"Vandenberg, do you copy? We're being tailed."
"This is Mission Control.  Bring your speed up a bit."
Hawkins knew it was risky; too fast and they'd have a head-on collision with the ground... too slow, and they'd surely get caught.
Hawkins was just a few feet from the safety of the Air Force Base.
As long as they don't shoot at us...  He prayed silently.
Of course, no sooner had he thought that, the plane opened fire.
The sound of what Hawkins thought might have been a machine gun erupted behind them, growing closer with every passing second.  Hawkins was now in a mad dash downwards, the plane's machine guns shooting twice as quickly.  Hawkins took a quick glance at the fuel meter; he didn't have the time to return fire before the fuel ran out.  The entire plane shook and he heard Lincoln yell to him.
"They're hitting us!"
Hawkins could see the base looming in the distance. That gives me an idea… it’s risky, but we might be able to pull it off.
Hawkins found a place outside of the base where he could land. He slowly brought the plane to a landing, checking behind him periodically to see whether or not the attacking plane was following them.  It was.  It had taken a break from shooting at them, but was landing right next to Hawkins' plane.
"We have to move fast," Hawkins ordered Lincoln. The Navigator nodded. They both took off from the plane at top speed upon landing. They dashed inside Vandenberg hastily, barely even thinking about each movement they made.
"We need fuel... fast."  Hawkins yelled to anyone who would listen. The plane was gearing up to attack again, but that was about to become the least of everyone's problems.
 

                                                 Chapter Twenty Four:
Vandenberg Air Force Base
President Kennedy and Joseph Wallinsky had just landed at the base when all the commotion was going on.  President Kennedy stormed into the place with Wallinsky following closely behind.
"Any new developments?"  He asked Flaherty upon arriving.
"The short answer: Our plane needs fuel, the enemy plane is doing God knows what, and we still don't have any clue what we're doing."  
Flaherty hadn't been told what was going on exactly, but he could tell it was dire; it wasn't every day the President made a personal visit.  One of Flaherty's operators turned to him:
"Sir, we've just seen something on the radar; the missile's closing in on Discoverer."
Flaherty barely had time to react before the telegraph in the corner buzzed to life.
Kennedy went to check what was being sent, with no idea that it was about to bring another twist to the case.
"I know this isn't the best time, but I think you should take a look at this," The President said.
He carried the faxed papers across the room to Wallinsky and the others.  When Wallinsky saw what was on the paper, he arched his eyebrows in surprise.
"If this is true..."  Wallinsky began.
"Someone out there is very desperate to keep this covered up," the President finished.
Wallinsky nodded slowly, his eyes still examining the paper and his brain still trying to absorb it all.
The information on the page was incredible to him:
Patient's Name: Dunlap, Jonathan
Doctor: Roger Long
Symptoms Identified: Bleeding of the digestive tract and blocked heart found during an autopsy on the body.  A white powder was found in the digestive tract as well.
Conclusion: Dunlap suffered from blockage of the heart, in addition to bleeding of the digestive tract, both of which are symptoms of Potassium Chloride poisoning.  Potassium Chloride is a chemical compound that has a whitish color, just like the powder found in Dunlap's body.  We therefore have evidence to believe that John Dunlap was murdered.
Wallinsky was speechless.  Obviously, he would have to step up security back at Arlington Hall when this whole thing was over.  Wallinsky pondered the events of the past forty-eight hours, wondering what fate would bring upon him next.  He didn't know that fate was planning to surprise him yet again.

                                                  Chapter Twenty Five:
The American bomber was back in the sky now, its tank refueled and its Captain more determined than ever to win the battle that could save the country... or end up destroying it.  The unmarked bomber darted back and forth through the air swiftly, as if daring Hawkins' crew to come closer.
Hawkins let out a round of machine gun fire, and saw that the plane had been damaged, though not badly. It still fought, answering Hawkins with a round of its own. The two exchanged fire for what seemed like forever. Then, all of a sudden, one of the planes was sent plummeting downward towards the ground. Nobody could tell whether it was Hawkins' plane or the enemy's, and time seemed to stand still as they waited for the result.
Everyone that had been inside Vandenberg Air Force base  rushed outside to see if the Rhapsody had made it back safely. Something zoomed through the sky above them and they glanced up in time to see a plane with no visible markings flying overhead.
"We lost them," Flaherty said somberly.  For a moment, nobody spoke; there wasn't much of anything to say.
"I'm sorry, Jim.  They were good men," the President said. Flaherty gave a slow, reflective nod.
"Hey, look!"  One of the operators yelled, pointing up at the plane. The vehicle was giving a slow turn, one hundred eighty degrees, so that the right side faced them instead of the left.
On the right side was a decal of an American flag and Rhapsody painted in silver.
"They made it!"  Flaherty felt like a father being told his child was safe after some huge crisis.
President Kennedy was happy as well, but was more concerned with other matters. Where did the others go?  He was bent on finding and bringing the ones responsible to justice.  Too bad they were getting away.
"They're getting away!"  Kennedy yelled, turning everyone's eyes to him.
"Have security stop them," he ordered Flaherty.  Flaherty nodded and gave the order via radio. Soon, three armed men ran after the culprits.  They began firing on the ones who were trying to escape.
They hadn't expected the men to return fire, but the escapees had pulled guns as well and were now engaged in a battle with security.
"Stop them!" One of the guards screamed as they approached the front door and prepared to make an exit. The security at the front door was too late to get two of the three culprits, but one of them was seized and brought before President Kennedy. He tried to struggle, but it was no use.
Kennedy faced the man who'd menaced him for so long.
"Looks like your reign of terror is over," he taunted.
"You can't touch me without evidence," the man sneered in reply. Kennedy knew he was right, but yet still smiled.
"Not to worry...I have an idea."

CIA Forensics Lab
The fingerprints database had finished searching, and had come up with a woman Redford didn't recognize:
NAME: IVANOVA, ALEXIS
AGE: 33 YRS.
HAIR: BLOND
EYES: BLUE
Alexis Ivanova was once an agent of the KGB, a Russian agency much like the American CIA. Unfortunately, she was discharged and exiled for a supposed plot to overthrow the Communist Government.  She had been living a quiet life in the United States ever since, but her current location and status were unknown.  Sounds like a possibility. But if she had been exiled by the KGB, why would she help them?  Conversely, why would the KGB be so eager to have her as an ally again?  Redford got a pad and paper and quickly scribbled down her name.  If I could just get a phone number for her, someplace where she worked, or maybe her home address.  He needn't have worried about it; the suspect was about to be delivered right into the hands of justice.

                                                   Chapter Twenty Six:

Vandenberg Air Force Base
Kennedy turned to the security guard and whispered to them to arrest the man standing before them.
"What the-" The man had tried to run, but to no avail; he had been captured.
"What are you doing?  You can't arrest me without any evidence!"
Kennedy smirked.
"Actually, I believe only citizens of this country must be given a reason for their arrest.  Unless you can show me some proof of citizenship here, I have every right to bring you into custody.  Well? We're all waiting..."
The man had nothing to show.
"I didn't think so.  We're going to visit an old friend of mine in Virginia." Kennedy nodded to Air Force One and the security guards hauled the suspect off to the plane, which sat waiting just outside the Air Force Base.
"I'm glad this is finally all over..." Kennedy said.
He had spoken too soon.

                                               Chapter Twenty Seven:

Once the President had made his way onto Air Force One, he went to the phone to dial the Forensics Lab in Langley.  Redford was the only one there and answered the phone, though he hated to be pulled away from an investigation.
"Hello?"
"Hello.  This is President Kennedy.  Is this Robert Redford?"
"Yes, sir.  How are you?  It's been a long time."
"I'm ok, considering everything that's been going on today.  But I need you or one of your associates to question a suspect we have in custody."
"You have someone in custody?!  That's great.  I'm in the middle of an investigation, but I can send my co-worker.  His name's Ralph Woods."
"That's perfect.  We can meet him in a few hours at CIA Headquarters."
Redford agreed to the terms and promised to call his friend and have him there in time.

               Chapter Twenty Eight:

CIA Headquarters
Langley, VA
11:00 a.m. Eastern Standard Time

Hours later, the suspect and Forensic Detective Ralph Woods were inside a small, dimly lit room inside CIA Headquarters. The room was soundproofed so outsiders had no chance of listening in.
Kennedy and Wallinsky had been kept out, and they wouldn't be informed of anything until the questioning was over. Woods scribbled notes on a pad as the suspect talked. He had also hooked the man to a lie detector to help see whether he was telling the truth. Woods knew that lie detectors weren't one hundred percent accurate; since the machine sensed changes in heart rate to gauge if someone was lying, it didn't account for criminals who could control their emotions expertly, or for innocent people who were nervous just to take the test.  Still, he hoped it would help a little bit. When the session of questions and answers was over, though, Woods was shocked at the answers he'd been given.  If they were true, the case had just taken a turn he'd never expected.
Kennedy was growing impatient.  He'd been trying for days to go out and find the criminals, and now that they just might be in his possession, he wanted some answers.  After what seemed like an eternity, the door to the soundproofed room opened.  Woods' face displayed the confusion that was running through his head.
"Is something wrong?"  Kennedy asked once Woods was out of the room.
"It just doesn't make any sense..."  Woods muttered.
"What doesn't?"
Woods didn't reply; he was too busy playing the interrogation over in his head.
"Woods... can you tell us what happened?"  Kennedy pried.
Woods was shaking his head, almost ignoring the President in his confusion.
Kennedy's brow furrowed with indignation.
"Woods... is he or is he not the criminal?!"
Woods finally snapped out of his trance-like state.
"Yes... and no."
"What on Earth are you talking about?"  Something's telling me this guy should be in a mental institution rather than working for the CIA, Kennedy thought.
"According to the testimony I received, this man's name is Dennis Conrad.  He's guilty... but he wasn't working alone."
Kennedy's face lit up with surprise.  
"He wasn't?  Then who-"
Kennedy didn't finish his sentence because Conrad was making a run for it.
"He's getting away!"  Kennedy exclaimed. He and Woods rushed to the front door, but it was too late.
"Follow him!" the President barked.  The CIA's security followed Conrad.
Gunshots exploded like firecrackers outside the door of the building.
"What‘s going on?"  Woods asked Kennedy as the President watched the scene from a window.
"I don‘t know; it‘s hard to tell them apart."  There were more shots and someone ducked behind a garbage can. I can't tell who that is…
"It's all moving too fast to follow," Kennedy added.  
In another minute, it was all over.
Nobody seemed severely injured.  Kennedy still couldn't tell who was who. The men scrambled again, and someone got the upper hand.  Soon, everyone was walking back towards CIA Headquarters.  The faces of the security guards were scratched and scraped, and they were panting heavily from exhaustion.  There were two men in front of them, both in handcuffs. At first, Kennedy couldn't get a good look at the second man who'd been arrested, but then the man turned towards him.  Kennedy stared at the suspect.  "This is impossible!  You've got it all wrong."
"I'm afraid not; the testimonial identified him by name."  Kennedy's eyes widened in shock... he was staring into the lifeless eyes of Joseph Wallinsky.
"How-you-we..."  The President stammered.
"I'll give you a moment to collect your thoughts."
Something must be wrong... he helped the investigation against himself?
"But... you were with me the whole time... how did you kill Dunlap and Nadia?"
Wallinsky nodded towards Conrad, the other man in handcuffs.
"You helped him? Why?"
Conrad recounted the call Wallinsky had delivered to him in the secret of his office back in Arlington Hall after everyone had left:
A storm had been carrying on for several hours, as if predicting the chaos Wallinsky was about to unleash.  Conrad had been working as an accountant in Russia ever since he was fired from the KGB for a conspiracy to overthrow the Government.  Wallinsky had apparently done his homework, and called raving about a scheme that would offer revenge against the Soviets, and particularly the KGB.  Fortunately for Wallinsky, revenge was exactly what Conrad was after.  The two began to conspire, enlisting two other former KGB Agents who had also been fired and desired revenge to help carry out their plot.  And then, Wallinsky explained what he had in mind...
Kennedy had so many other questions.  Why were Nadia and Dunlap killed?  What was Wallinsky hoping to accomplish by setting Discoverer up to be hit?  The President couldn't imagine that even as Wallinsky was being hauled to prison, the Director had one final trick up his sleeve.

                                                  Chapter Twenty Eight:

Vandenberg Air Force Base
12:00 a.m. Eastern Standard Time

One of the operators of Vandenberg's radar let out a gasp. "What's wrong?" a female operator next to him asked.
"Look at the radar; the missile just hit Discoverer."
The woman's eyes widened in fear.
"We were too late..."
"Wait a minute... something weird is happening."
"What?"
"The missile... it's turning or something."
"You're right."  There was the slightest hint of hope in her voice.
"You think the co-ordinates or something were off?" the man asked.
"It's possible... but they're only off by a hair... chillingly close."  A shiver ran down her spine.
"Any closer and we'd need a new spy satellite."
The male operator checked the co-ordinates of Discoverer.
"They're off, but just by a little bit."
"Thank God."  The woman's heart was beating twice as fast as normal.
"I wouldn't speak so soon if I were you..."  The man pointed to the radar and the woman checked it.  When she saw it, she gasped.
"The Soviets knew exactly what they were doing..."  The man nodded.
"In a few seconds, Discoverer will be perfectly in line with the missile. We have to call the President."
The man rushed to the nearest phone and dialed Kennedy's emergency contact line.
"President Kennedy speaking."
"Sir, this is Michael Keller.  I'm one of the operators at Vandenberg.  The Discoverer  satellite is going to be hit any second. You have to do something."
Kennedy thanked the man and assured that the problem would be solved.  Then, he hung up.
Suddenly, Kennedy was manning the cockpit of Air Force One.  He rushed through the air, nearing the missile.  Meanwhile, on the ground, Wallinsky was shocked.  Is he insane?
Kennedy realized everyone probably thought he was nuts, but didn't care.
There's a method to my madness.
He wondered whether it were possible for the plane to move any faster. He glanced up into the sky.  The missile's just inches away... will I get there in time?
Kennedy neared the missile, closer and closer.  If I could just nudge it with the nose of the plane...
He tried to, tilting it away from the satellite.  One more time...
The next nudge of the plane was much harder, much faster than the others. It sent the missile flying into space.  Bingo... now it will burn up somewhere outside the atmosphere... and never bother us again.

En Route to Washington, D.C.
It was supposed to be the perfect crime!  How could it have failed?
Wallinsky had had the entire thing planned out.  I used a Russian-made gun, launched the missile from a base in a Soviet-controlled country.  Yet, somehow, he'd gotten caught.
"Well, great plan."  Conrad rolled his eyes.
"Did I know it was going to turn out like this?"
"Look, you promised me revenge or else I wouldn't have done it."
"Well, if they believed it was the KGB, you would have had revenge."
"Why did you do it, anyway?"
Wallinsky sighed; the memory was quite painful and he wasn't sure he wanted it to bring it up.
"When I was little, my father was in the Air Force and he died in a war.  I was young, and I promised revenge on the Air Force... although it wasn't really their fault.  Still, I guess I let my childish instinct get the best of me.  And everyone was so afraid of the Soviets... I thought they were the perfect people to blame."
"So you scammed a bunch of former KGB agents for your own purposes?"
"Well, when you put it like that..." Wallinsky sighed again. There's no denying it...
"Yes."
Conrad nodded. "I see."
He glanced out the window of the plane, pondering what his fate would be...

                                                     After-Note:
Wallinsky and Conrad were tried and convicted on charges of Conspiracy, Treason, and Murder. They were sentenced to one life term each, but reduced their sentences by revealing the names of the other two KGB Agents, who were later captured. When Conrad got out, he wrote a book of all the events that had happened to him, entitled The Cold War Conspiracy. In the book, he revealed he'd never planned to kill Nadia or Dunlap. According to him, he had to keep them quiet about the conspiracy they'd uncovered. Bellville and Lindsay were appointed the new Heads of the VENONA Project and President Kennedy became even more of a national hero than before. Redford was awarded a Congressional Medal of Honor and then lived a quiet life, at least until his next case came along....