PartyLuvr30308: New York’s a fun town. You should check it out.
Toothdoc2b: Dude, I live there! Stop in when you get back and we’ll visit some cool places. My address is 0112 18th Street in West Pinehurst.
Chapter 37
From hot air balloon rides in Santa Fe, New Mexico, to the biplanes that usually trailed advertising banners along New Jersey’s boardwalk, not a single private or commercial aircraft appeared in the skies. And the American people weren’t stupid. Polls showed that 85 percent believed this was the direct result of a terror attack. Divergent special interest groups swarmed to Washington. Many camped in the National Mall. Fringe environmentalists claimed the lack of commercial jet contrail vapors that normally reflected the sun’s heat would raise the Earth’s temperature by a staggering two degrees. Another group claimed that the shutdown had already caused over one thousand new driving deaths due to the increase in vehicular travel. Worst of all, United and Delta Airline stocks had fallen 78 percent, double the plunge they had taken after 9/11.
“I want you to listen to something,” the president said, opening a window. “Now I know how Lyndon Johnson felt during Vietnam.”
“There’s another protest rally tomorrow,” Transportation Secretary Minka said soberly, flopping the Washington Post onto the president’s desk. “American Airlines Group is laying off another ten thousand machinists. We may have to reconsider.”
The president stared at the Washington Monument, hands clasped behind his back.
“You mean end it, don’t you?”
“Sir, I took the liberty of projecting some numbers. If the airline shutdown were to last thirty-five days, aviation bankruptcy filings would reach their highest levels ever. All US carriers would seek protection. As you know, filing bankruptcy just means that creditors are held at bay until a company is better positioned to repay. Unfortunately, we’re at the point where even that is becoming impossible, even with loans. People are losing confidence. If something isn’t done, the sheer weight of the economics might not support a recovery. I know how you feel about polls, but the latest show that 78 percent of Americans believe that we should lift the flight ban regardless of the potential for additional loss of life via another crash. Of those, only 6 percent said they’d personally take that risk. That tells me that air freight should be allowed to resume immediately.”
“Tell me how we frame it,” the president asked.
“We frame it by telling the truth.”
“The truth? The truth is that we don’t have a clue about what or who killed 260 people?”
“Well, sir, not exactly like that. We say that we’re doing everything possible to prevent further attacks. That’s number one. Second, we inundate the major airports with visible military. Every bag is opened and scanned, every passenger is questioned and searched, every plane is inspected before it leaves the ground, and everyone who comes in contact with an aircraft is monitored visually. That will get us flying again with credibility. Passengers need to feel safe. And when I say ‘inundate,’ I mean it. We’ll get state governors to mobilize National Guard units to stand side by side with federal forces. You have the authority to do it.”
The president felt a tickle in his throat and coughed slightly. He knew where Minka was heading. The Federal Posse Comitatus Act was created to limit the powers of the federal government in using US armed forces to enforce state law. Congress had since revised similar insurrection and national defense legislation for natural disasters, terrorist attacks, or other conditions that civilian authorities were unwilling or unable to handle.
Minka filled the president’s water glass.
“My father taught me a simple lesson about a wolf and a bear. If you are in a terrible position with no way out, it is better to fight like a wolf and lose with honor than to cower. If I come back to my den and find a bear eating my pups, then I’ll fight to the death. Sitting here doing nothing is like planning a Haida hunting party day after day and never going out after the grizzly. We need to get back in the air.”
The president smiled at his friend. “You speak as eloquently as always, Norman. Give me a few moments alone.”
Minka left. The president folded his hands and prayed silently. He repeated the ending out loud.
“But deliver us from evil.”
Professor Michael Robertson stared in disbelief at his appointment calendar. It resembled a crossword puzzle of inked-out meeting dates that were scheduled, cancelled, and then rescheduled to coincide with the potential for flying again. He pasted a sheet of blank paper over one three-day period and jotted down yet another entry:
International Aerial Robotics Exhibition — EPCOT Center Pavilion
Disney’s animatronics engineers wanted the drone to fly up to the tip of the Magic Kingdom’s castle vis-à-vis Tinker Bell during the evening Parade of Lights. The event would bring drone competitors from schools all over the country. He was the master of ceremonies and overall program coordinator.
His phone chirped.
“Michael, thank heaven you’re there.” Dr. Garton’s voice was frantic. “I just spoke to Milt Vandenbaum in the Treasurer’s office. He has no record of that Saudi check. Apparently, no deposit was ever made. We’ve already contacted the Bank of Riyadh, and they’re in the dark too. I knew we should have used a wire transfer. Michael, we need those funds. We’re already drawing against the balance. Where is Dr. Al-Aran?”
“Faiz has been on vacation since the fourteenth, and I have absolutely no idea where. He was handling everything, including the funding. I never even saw the check.”
Akil sat patiently at his window above the Russian Star, binoculars in hand, eyes trained on the south end of San Diego’s Airport. He opened the drone’s case and set the two remaining frames on the sill — midnight blue and black. He hadn’t decided San Diego’s color. One block away, Amtrak Intercity commuter trains linked communities and travelers from as far away as Los Angeles and Orange County to downtown San Diego. Amtrak’s Pacific Surfliner and the COASTER that carried travelers to and from the airport were empty.
He leaned forward intently. Something about those trains and the airport proximity triggered his memory. His mind flashed back to the O’Hare Aerospace Center and another train that he watched roll south on O’Hare Airport’s western perimeter. It was a freight train, and he remembered it slowing dramatically as it pulled open gondola coal cars around a curve in the tracks. Departing aircraft were flying right above. He surmised that a soldier could easily climb into one of the train cars, assemble a weapon, time an aircraft’s departure, and then attack it. But how? he wondered. There was plenty of room to fire a weapon, but it would have to be powerful enough to both reach and disable the plane. A high-powered rifle with a heavy six-hundred-grain bullet might do the job, but it might not. The velocity of such a projectile would easily tear through an aircraft’s aluminum skin, but creating enough damage to actually bring it down was questionable. How high would a plane be as it passed over the train? he wondered. Two, three hundred feet? Perhaps a rocket launcher or heat seeker? No. The beauty of such an attack would be four-fold, he reasoned. The sound of the weapon would be masked by the jet engines, no witness would see the projectile, the escape would be effortless and automatic, and the investigation of the crash would no doubt focus on the aircraft itself. No one would suspect it came from the train.