He tried routes from New Orleans International Airport to the stadium via U.S. 61, state highway 3046, and U.S. 90 and a combination of Interstate 10 and the Claiborne Avenue section of U.S. 90. All routes seemed endless, especially in light of the notorious traffic problem in the stadium area.
The preliminary evaluation Renfro sent to special agent Biggs at the White House said in part:
Suggest we recommend in the strongest terms that the president be helicoptered from New Orleans International Airport to the stadium following this procedure:
1. A motorcade will be ordered to stand by at the airport, but will be used by peripheral members of traveling party.
2. No helipad will be marked at the stadium until the president’s helicopter is airborne from New Orleans International. At that time a portable fabric landing marker will be deployed at the south end of the infield on the track outside the northwest corner of the stadium. (See attached diagram A-1.) The track has no overhead wires and provides a clear landing area in the infield, but has three tall light standards on each side. These standards do not appear on the New Orleans sectional and VFR terminal area chart. Their presence should be emphasized at the pilot’s briefing.
3. From the landing pad to Gate 19 is 100 paces. (Note enclosed photograph A-2.) Have requested removal of the unsightly garbage container indicated beside stadium wall. Suggest agents on the ground at landing point check the bushes at the edge of the stadium at Zero minus one minute.
The landing area can be covered from the rear upper floors of five houses on Audubon Boulevard. They are numbers 49, 55, 65, 71, and 73. Preliminary check indicates they are all occupied by citizens considered zero threat. The roofs and windows should be observed during the arrival, however.
In the event a crowd remains at the ticket windows at Gate 19 when the president arrives, Gate 18 and vendor’s gate 18A could be used, but these are considered less desirable, as they would necessitate a short walk under the stands.
From Gate 19, the president would be exposed to the area under the stands for 75 paces before reaching the sideline at the goal line.
The president will use Box 40, a double-size box at the 50-yard line. (See attached diagram A-3.) Note the railings allow access at front and rear. Also note the rear of the box is elevated 6 inches by a step. Tall agents seated behind the president in Box 40 would give considerable coverage from behind. Secret Service boxes will be numbers 14 and 13 in front of the Presidential Box to the right and left. At least one agent each should be in Boxes 71, 70, 69, and 68, to the rear.
The railing of Box 40 is constructed of iron pipe. The ends are capped. These caps should be removed and the interior of the pipes examined immediately before the president’s arrival.
The box contains one telephone terminal box. I am advising Signal Corps on details. (Memo to Signals attached.) Diagram A-4, stadium overview and seating chart, shows individual agent assignments and areas of responsibility.
Our radio frequency is clear.
Details of egress are subject to modification pending our observation of crowd flow at the Sugar Bowl game December 31.
Jack Renfro was a careful and conscientious man, skilled at his trade. He had learned the stadium by heart. But as he catalogued its dangers, he never once looked up at the sky.
18
LANDER FINISHED THE BOMB TWO days after Christmas. Its sleek skin, midnight blue and bearing the bright insignia of the National Broadcasting System, reflected the harsh garage lights as it lay in its loading cradle. The clamps that would fasten it to the gondola of the blimp hung from the upper rim like open hands, and the electrical connections and backup fuse were taped in neat coils on the top. Inside the skin, the 1,316.7 pounds of plastic explosive rested in two great slabs of precise thickness, curving behind the layers of bristling darts. The detonators were packed separately, ready to be plugged into place.
Lander sat staring at the great bomb. He could see his reflection distorted on its side. He thought that he would like to sit on it now, and plug in the detonators and hold the wires like reins, touch them to the battery and ride the mighty fire-bloom into the face of God. Sixteen days to go.
The telephone had been ringing for some time when he answered it. Dahlia was calling from New Orleans.
“It’s finished,” Lander said.
“Michael, you’ve done a beautiful job. It’s a privilege to watch you.”
“Did you get the garage?”
“Yes. It’s near the Galvez Street wharf. Twenty minutes from New Orleans Lakefront Airport. I’ve driven the route twice.”
“You’re sure it’s big enough.”
“It’s big enough. It’s a walled-off section of a warehouse. I’ve bought the padlocks and put them on. Now may I come home to you, Michael?”
“You’re satisfied?”
“I’m satisfied.”
“With the airport, too?”
“Yes. I had no trouble getting in. I can make it in the truck when the time comes.”
“Come home.”
“I’ll see you late tonight.”
She did well, Lander thought as he hung up the telephone. Still, he would have preferred to make the arrangements in New Orleans himself. There had been no time. He still had to fly a National Football Conference playoff game and the Sugar Bowl in New Orleans before the Super Bowl. His time was used up.
The problem of moving the nacelle to New Orleans had worried him, and the solution he found was less than ideal. He had leased a two-and-one-half-ton truck, which now stood in his driveway, and he had engaged two bonded professional truck drivers to take it to New Orleans. They would leave tomorrow. The back of the truck would be sealed, and even if the drivers did see the device they would not know what it was.
Putting the bomb in the hands of strangers made Lander uneasy anyway. But there was no help for it. Fasil and Dahlia could not drive the truck. Lander was certain that the authorities had broadcast their descriptions in the Northeast. Fasil’s forged international driving license was sure to attract attention if he were stopped by the police. Dahlia would be very conspicuous at the wheel of a big truck. She would be ogled at every step. Besides, Lander wanted Dahlia to be with him.
If he could have trusted Fasil to go to New Orleans, Dahlia would be here now, Lander thought bitterly. He had no confidence in Fasil since the Arab announced that he would not be present at the strike. Lander had enjoyed the contempt for Fasil that flashed in Dahlia’s eyes. Supposedly Fasil was off arranging for some muscle to be employed at the airport—Dahlia had seen to it that he and Lander were not left in the house together.
One item remained on Lander’s checklist of materials—a tarpaulin to tie down over the nacelle. It was four forty-five p.m. The hardware store was still open. He just had time to make it.
Twenty minutes later, Margaret Feldman, formerly Margaret Lander, parked her Dart stationwagon beside the big truck in Lander’s driveway. She sat for a moment, looking at the house.
This was the first time she had seen it since her divorce and remarriage. Margaret felt some reservations about coming, but the bassinet and baby carriage were rightfully hers, she would need them in a few more months, and she intended to have them. She had called first to make sure Michael was not at home. She did not want him crying after her. He had been a strong and proud man before he was broken. For the memory of that man, she still had a great affection, in her fashion. She had tried to forget his sick behavior at the end. She still dreamed about the kitten, though, still heard it in her sleep.