By R.A. Jetter

Author’s note: It’s a fact, computer hackers have already caused costly destruction to tens of thousands of people, fortunately, none of this prankster-like criminal activity has caused death. At least, not yet! It’s only a matter of time before they do.

Since 1995, the newest commercial airliners built are equipped with digital flight management systems, enabling air traffic controllers to guide an aircraft to a safe landing in nearly any kind of weather. If someone hacked into the system, interfering with the aircraft’s flight management program, giving it another set of instructions, which would the plane follow?

In Arsenal Code RED; two 15 year old boys, playing with the supposed obsolete computers in Denver’s abandoned Stapleton International Airport control tower, draw a 235-passenger flight to Stapleton’s disrepaired runway, The early morning red-eye crashes into the Army’s Rocky Mountain Arsenal - the very place the US Government stores thousands of gallons of deadly Sarin nerve gas. To complicate rescue of survivors, the calamity occurs in one of Denver’s infamous January snowstorms. If that isn’t enough, another airliner is drawn away from the new Denver International Airport toward Stapleton.

Is the second airliner, and others to follow, destined to crash atop the first? Will the survivors succumb to hypothermia or nerve gas? Is the city of Denver in mortal danger? Is this simply a game the boys have concocted… or is it really a terrorist plot?

This novel is in the rewriting stage. Chapter One is presented here.

Adam Wachtel opened one eye and glanced at the radio/alarm clock beside the bed. “Damn. Three forty-five.” Grabbing the phone on the third ring… what the hell is going on at this time of the morning that they need me? “Hello,” he mumbled, rubbing his fingers over his eyes.

“Captain Wachtel?” The voice on the other end said. “Lieutenant Baines here, Denver Fire Department HQ.”

Raising his head from the soft, warm pillow, he cocked an ear to the wind howling past the second story bedroom window. Sounds like a real blizzard out there. Predictions called for this late January storm, he’d gone to bed hoping it would bypass Denver. Vague shadows danced on the window, snow-covered branches rasped against the corner of the house. Just what I need on Friday, worst day for a storm, everyone gets careless. “What is it, Baines?”

“We’ve gotten an incident report, sir, sounds like the real thing.”

“Explain, Lieutenant.”

“We need you down here right away, sir! We’ve received an Arsenal Code R.E.D.”

“A Code R.E.D.?” Adam sat up, turning away from his wife, certain he would awaken her. “You sure?”

“A red-eye commercial airliner has crashed inside the Rocky Mountain Arsenal, sir.”

“My God, Lieutenant! Are you positive?” Galvanized by the Lieutenant’s words, he was wide-awake now.

“Yessir, the Arsenal’s perimeter alarm lights are flashing like crazy on our Ready Board, something broke the beams. We’re getting an alert from Denver International Airport, also. Their alarms have been going off left and right, has to be an airliner. I’d bet there are fatalities!”

“Has to be… may be more.” Adam swallowed hard.

“Sir…?”

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