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we never get complaints from that area.
It’s not on any of our flight paths.”
    Percy
frowned through half his mouth, looking at the paper O’Toole had handed him
earlier. He was about to thank his friend when someone poked their head out of
the small ATC unit of the mostly private airport.
    “Terry,
you better get in here, you’re gonna wanna hear this.”
    O’Toole
nodded then motioned with his head for them to follow. They stepped inside, the
dusk replaced by not much more light, the control room kept fairly dark.
    “What is
it?” asked O’Toole.
    “Salt
Lake’s got a Delta flight claiming a military transport crossed their flight
path.”
    “What?
Anything on the scopes?” asked O’Toole as he rushed into the fray to check for
himself.
    “No,
nothing, but they were apparently descending so might be off scope. And their transponder
was apparently off.”
    The
other controller hit a button, and tin can voices could be heard over the
speakers.
    “United
two-oh-four, I have unidentified traffic your two o’clock for five miles
closing. No Secondary.”
    “They’re
checking with another flight,” whispered O’Toole as everyone leaned in to hear
the conversation.
    “Roger
approach, United looking.”
    “United,
traffic is now your one o’clock for two miles altitude unknown will pass from
right to left.”
    “They’ve
spotted him on their scopes,” explained O’Toole for the benefit of the two
detectives.
    “Roger,
United still looking.”
    “United,
traffic now your twelve o’clock, less than a mile.”
    Suddenly
excitement could be heard from the pilot. “Approach, that was close! A C130
just passed in a steep descent. Our TCAS didn’t pick that one up!”
    “United,
I am recording as a near miss.”
    “Thank
you, approach.”
    O’Toole
flicked the switch, silencing the speakers.
    “What’s
that mean?” asked Percy.
    “It
means if our United crew aren’t seeing things, we’ve got a military transport
plane landing somewhere around here, flying without his transponder turned on,
and without an approved flight plan.”
     “What’s
the procedure?”
    “It’s
Salt Lake’s problem. They’ll call Hill Air Force Base and see if they have any
birds in the air in this vicinity.” O’Toole held up a finger before Percy could
object. “Buuut, I have a friend at Hill.”
    O’Toole
picked up the phone and hit one of the speed dial numbers, and after a couple
of quick exchanges, hit the speaker button, placing the receiver down.
    “This is
Major Perez. Sir, we can confirm we have nothing in your area, and nothing on
our scopes.”
    “Ricky, come
on, we have a Delta crew saying they spotted something descending, and a United
crew swearing they were almost hit!”
    “If they
were, it wasn’t by anything we have in the air, sir. And like I said, we’ve got
nothing on our scopes in your area. I’m afraid I can’t help you any further,
sir. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
    The call
ended with a dial tone, and O’Toole jammed his thumb at the button, killing the
speaker.
    “What do
you think?” asked Percy.
    “I think
it’s bullshit. But unfortunately there’s nothing we can do. If the Delta crew
want to, they can file a report with the FAA, they’ll investigate, but if the
military isn’t going to cooperate, there’s not much that will come of it.”
    “You
think they’re lying?” asked Jamie.
    “Who?
The military? Absolutely. I’ve dealt with the Major before. He’s a good guy,
very friendly, and has never called me ‘Sir’. He was feeding us the same
story that was fed to him. The real question here is who has the power to force
a major in the United States Air Force to lie? And why?”
    “National
security?” suggested Percy.
    O’Toole
frowned. “I could see that with some fighter jet under development, but our United
crew reported a plain old transport, a C130 Hercules. That’s only national
security if it’s on a mission, which would be illegal