9/11 TWO Chapter 6. Skyline

6. Skyline

Das insisted on taking the long way to the restaurant, the scenic route along the six mile long Skyline Drive that for the most part hugs the side of the steep hilly terrain of the Ramapo mountains, crossing the Ringwood State Park. It was the end of summer and the narrow windy road was enclosed intermittently by the leafy foliage of oaks and maples and occasionally opened out to residential or commercial complexes. Das pushed the car, taking the curves as fast as he thought he could without his boss yelling at him, switching on the hi-tech GPS system, though it was not as hi-tech as the one he had installed in his old Dodge Caravan. He glanced quickly at the rear vision mirror to make sure Silenzio was still following. She was, with difficulty.

“If you slow down a bit, Das, not only will Monica be able to keep up with us, but we could also discuss the progress you’re making with your dissertation,” said MacIver who enjoyed needling Das just enough to keep him focused on his work.

“A good idea, sir. I will slow down, though it’s not as much fun driving your fantastic car, sir. She is doing all right in any case sir. She’s a pretty good driver.”

“OK. Then what about your dissertation. Have you completed collecting data yet?”

“Sir, I’m sorry sir, but my borderline Asperger condition does not permit me to do two complex things at once. I can’t drive the car and talk about my dissertation at the same time. I’m sorry, sir. I’ll try sir.”

“Asperger’s? You’ve got that?”

“I’m afraid so, sir. That’s what they said at the student health center.

Don’t you remember? You made me go there.”

“Well I have to confess I don’t know what it is, but frankly, I doubt very much whether it’s a real illness. These psychiatrists, they keep inventing new diseases. It’s how they make their money.”

“I hope you’re right, sir, because they say there’s no cure for it sir.

Anyway, sir, my data collection will never be complete. Maybe that’s a sign of my Asperger’s. I just can’t stop collecting the data, sir.”

“You can’t stop?”

“That’s right sir. There’s just no end to it, sir. It’s like I collected bottle tops.”

“How big is the database now? How many cars are in it?”

“I don’t know exactly. Several hundred thousand, I’d guess.”

“Then maybe you should stop now? How many of them are stolen?”

“Depends what you mean by ‘stolen’ sir, doesn’t it? Sir please, sir, I must concentrate on my driving. Don’t want to smash up your beautiful car, sir.”

“OK. Then we’ll meet later this week in your office and you can show me all you’ve done. Is Monica still with us?”

“Yes, sir. Still with us. Around the next curve and up the steep hill and we come to the restaurant. Shall I drop you off and then park, sir?”

“You think I’m too old to walk, Das? Go straight to the parking lot.”

“There it is, sir!” The Maxima emerged from the woods into a wide open expanse and in the distance, some twenty miles away, was the most stunning view of the New York City skyline. “Wow! Sir! Isn’t that amazing?”

“It certainly is. It’s not often that cities can be said to be beautiful in themselves. But I guess they are, at a distance.”

“A very nice view for a terrorist, sir,” mused Das, having just stopped the car in the parking lot, facing the view.

“A very nice view for anyone, Das. What are you suggesting?”

“Oh, nothing sir. I was just wondering if seeing such a view, a terrorist might get some ideas. Looking at a bomb drop on it from this distance would be pretty spectacular.”

“A mushroom cloud, you’re thinking?”

“Yes, sir. Scary.”

“A totally silly, idea. I can’t imagine how a terrorist organization could pull off such a caper. Far too complex.”

Silenzio pulled in beside them, and they walked together to the restaurant entrance, silent, overwhelmed by the glowing beauty of New York City. Mindful of his father’s advice, Das kept five steps behind.

*

Foster was waiting for them at the entrance. “Professor MacIver, Doctor Silenzio. This way please.”

“You’re a doctor?” MacIver turned to Silenzio.

“P-H-D, John Jay College of Criminal Justice, and Agent 33, CIA.”

“And CIA?”

“At your service!”

Foster ushered them upstairs to a small secluded conference room from which they admired once again the famous view of the New York City Skyline. “The mayor will be here shortly. She’s just wound up a news conference back at City Hall.”

“Who else is coming?” asked MacIver.

“FBI Agent Lee, director of the Newark branch office and, I think, Captain Buck Buick, head of the Newark PD counter terrorism task force.”

“Buick? But he’s an idiot! He’s out of control! Why did your boss choose him?”

“The mayor, she likes to have everything balanced, Professor.”

“Balanced? You can’t balance him, he’s an outlier! And Lee is useless too, just like the rest of the FBI!”

“I’m sure the mayor has her reasons, Professor.”

MacIver gazed out the window, then tried to make eye contact with Silenzio, who instead was carefully leafing through the materials Foster had deposited at each place on the table. It would be hard concentrating with Silenzio in the room, thought MacIver. Maybe when Madam Mayor arrived the ecosphere in the room would truly be balanced.

“If you will excuse me a moment. I will get the mayor,” said Foster.

“She is hiding out in another room. We arrived some time ago. She doesn’t want to be seen. This is a top secret meeting. We don’t want the media to get wind of it.”

Just as Foster departed, a waiter entered and placed a water pitcher and glasses on the table as well as writing pads and pencils. He bowed obsequiously to no one in particular. “I bring anything else?” he asked in a thick Russian accent.

“No thank you. That’s fine. More glasses perhaps,” answered Silenzio.

The waiter left, and as he did so Fred Lee entered. Silenzio rose to shake hands.

“Fred Lee, FBI, Newark Office. Hi nice to see you again Agent Silenzio.”

“Likewise. And you know Professor MacIver?”

“We’ve met.”

MacIver remained seated. “And this is Manish Das, my research assistant,” he said.

“Very pleased to meet you sir,” said Das as he jumped up from his place in the corner of the room and extended his hand, half bowing at the same time. Lee nodded and shook Das’s hand, squeezing it so hard Das struggled to hold back a grimace.

“So what’s the big secret?” asked Lee.

“I thought the FBI owned all the secrets,” responded MacIver.

“An attack on Ground Zero perhaps?”

“Where did you hear that?” asked Silenzio, fully engaged.

“Like the professor said, we own all the secrets — those worth knowing, anyway.”

“You spies are pathetic. Secrecy is just a cover against accountability.

That’s the only reason you put such store in secret information,” lectured MacIver.

The door opened and Mayor Newberg entered, closely followed by the Russian waiter, then Foster. All rose in unison, muttering “good afternoon Madam Mayor” and such like. Ruth Newberg, looking every bit her age of 62, projected a warlike image, as though she was about to preside over the war room planning the invasion of North Korea. Her face had a lined, battered look, though well covered by copious makeup. She walked directly to the head of the table and plopped down. She was not that much over weight, but enough for people to make unkind comments. She was currently on a diet of salad and boiled eggs, the latter only because her dietician had told her she must eat protein if she insisted on being a vegetarian and didn’t like cooked vegetables. Her dark gray business suit fitted snuggly accentuating what her figure used to be. She wore her usual blue silk scarf tied loosely around her neck.

MacIver looked from the mayor to Silenzio who had seated herself across from him and realized that he had not taken the slightest notice of what Silenzio was wearing. The room was well balanced all right, he mused.

Then he noticed that Fred Lee had taken up the position across the table from the mayor.

“OK. Let’s get down to business,” said Madam Mayor as she signaled to Foster to send the waiter from the room. “Wait,” she said, “where’s Buick?”

“Should be here any time soon,” Foster answered, “I’m sure he received our message.”

Mayor Newberg began. “Agent Silenzio, could you bring us up to date please?”

“Sure, Madam Mayor. Fact is, we have picked up quite a bit of chatter that Al Qaeda is planning an attack on Ground Zero.”

“When?” interjected Lee.

“We’re guessing it will be next month, the forthcoming anniversary of nine eleven.”

MacIver shifted in his seat. “So you actually have no idea.”

“That’s a bit strong. There is some indication.”

“What is the statistical probability?” asked MacIver.

“We don’t have that kind of data.”

“Then without hard evidence we should assume that there may be an attack some day in the future and plan carefully, without getting into a panic.”

“There’s going to be an attack, and it’s going to be soon.” Silenzio was annoyed but remained calm.

“We will know very soon, in fact in a few days. And it will be certain,”

Lee said with an air of confidence.

“What do you know that we do not?” asked Silenzio.

“I’m not at liberty to share that information just yet. But I can tell you for sure that it’s Al Qaeda. I will be able to tell you more in a few days.”

MacIver laughed. “You guys. It’s all you know what to do, sting operations. All they achieve is the entrapment of otherwise innocent Islamic immigrants.”

“I did not mention a sting operation. And you liberal progressive professors have no idea how the real world works.”

Mayor Newberg coughed gently to regain attention. “OK. OK. Now let’s keep an open mind.”

At this point, the door flew open so hard it banged the wall, and Buck Buick entered, uniformed, hand on revolver holster. He was yelling over his shoulder to the waiter to bring him a pizza. He quickly surveyed the occupants and sat himself beside Silenzio.

“You all know Captain Buick?” said Madam Mayor, “he has graciously agreed to join our little group — and I want to emphasize that his boss does not know it. So please let’s keep it that way.”

“Why the secrecy?” asked MacIver impatiently.

“I have my reasons, but they mainly concern the press. I want to thank Buck for agreeing to join us at considerable risk to his position at Newark PD.”

“What a hero.”

“Professor MacIver, please!” scorned Newberg. “You all understand I can’t ignore Silenzio’s report. However low the probability, I must take action.”

“To cover your ass.” muttered Buick.

“At least we agree on one point,” quipped MacIver.

Mayor Newberg continued. “Call it what you like. But Professor MacIver, isn’t prevention your thing?”

“It certainly is. I’d be very happy to help you. The solution is simple.”

“Really?” said Buick.

“Yes, really. We harden all likely targets. Make them inaccessible. Make them impenetrable.”

“That’s it?” Buick was fed up already.

“Well, it’s quite a lot.”

“You mean we sit around and wait to be attacked? It’s pathetic.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“I would! We need to infiltrate them, and take the animals out.”

“That’s really stupid. You don’t know who or what to infiltrate,” argued MacIver, he too annoyed and losing patience.

“Al Qaeda of course, who else?”

Fred Lee grabbed the opportunity to enlighten the group. “The FBI knows who they are. And we are about to bring them in. And of course it’s Al Qaeda.”

MacIver sighed. “Madam Mayor, I don’t think I can work with these fools.”

“You could start by not calling them fools!” Mayor Newberg straightened up as if to begin a formal speech. “I’d like to thank you all for agreeing to meet with me. Our city, our country, is in danger. I must take every step I can to prevent another attack occurring, whatever the target.

I understand what you say, Professor, and we have already gone quite some way in identifying those targets most attractive to terrorists. But we also must at least make all effort to find out who may attack us, and, to use Buck’s words, take them out if we can. I know this is the traditional, not very innovative approach, but it’s the most common approach of law enforcement and I can’t ignore it for that reason. Otherwise, if another attack occurs, I’ll be accused of inaction, or worse dereliction of my duty to protect the city.”

MacIver stared at the table while Buick smirked and winked at Silenzio. Foster looked to the Mayor; there was an awkward silence. He took the opportunity to say something neutral. “If I may, Madam Mayor, just make a quick bureaucratic announcement to our participants. The city will be paying you at the maximum rate allowed, for your time, plus reasonable expenses. Please take the forms I have left in front of you at the end of our meeting, fill them out and get them back to me as soon as possible.”

Mayor Newberg continued. “Now let’s move on. Do you have anything more to add, Agent Silenzio?”

“Only that we are reasonably certain that the target will be Ground Zero, and we think it’s fair to assume that the attack will occur on the anniversary of nine eleven.”

MacIver quickly responded. “But you don’t know at all, and it’s an unwarranted assumption given the very poor quality of your data. We must act based on hard evidence, facts, not speculation based on some vague report of ‘chatter’.”

Das half-raised his hand several times, waiting to be recognized.

At last, MacIver noticed and said to the mayor, “My apologies Madam Mayor, I failed to introduce my much trusted research assistant, Manish Das. I think he wants to say something.”

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Das. Welcome to America. And where are you from originally?”

“Mumbai, Madam Mayor,” Das replied as he half stood, then sat again, raising his hand in a series of nervous twitches.

“What is it you wanted to say, Mr. Das?”

“Just that, if sir allows, if it’s Al Qaeda, surely they will pick Ground Zero because it’s their style, sir, sorry sir.”

MacIver frowned and shot Das a piercing look. “We know nothing of the sort. It’s mere speculation. We are scientists, not soothsayers!”

Das sank into his seat, for the moment, crushed. “Yes, sir, of course sir. I was getting carried away, sir.”

Buick couldn’t resist entering the fray. “You see professor. Even your own student disagrees with you. This sitting back and waiting to be hit. It’s, it’s, un-American!” He jumped up from his chair as if to emphasize how right he was. At this moment the waiter arrived with his pizza.

“Anyone want any? Silenzio?” Buick asked, smiling broadly.

Silenzio smiled and shook her head. The others aggressively ignored him. Fred Lee leaned forward in his seat and took a deep breath.

“I think I can put this to rest,” he said smugly. “I can reveal, on the understanding that we are all in this together and that you can all keep a secret — and that especially applies to the Professor — we do have a sting operation in progress, and we’ll be bringing in the terrorists any day now.”

“I knew it,” said MacIver, also smug.

Mayor Newberg responded, clearly pleased. “That’s an excellent first step. Perhaps you could include Captain Buick in the questioning once you bring them in? We all need to share information here. You remember the report of the nine eleven commission. This was their biggest criticism of law enforcement.”

MacIver was unimpressed. “It’s a waste of time, money and worse, fritters away much needed trust we might be able to get from the Islamic community. If they think they’re potential FBI suspects, why would they share information?”

Mayor Newberg, exuding an air of tolerance responded, “Professor MacIver, we will multiply our efforts, with your assistance, to identify targets at risk and make them harder for terrorists to reach. Anything more? Oh, and one more thing, we will assume that the attack will occur on nine eleven. So we have just one month to get all this done.” She rose, indicating that the meeting was over, and left without another word. Foster followed her quickly, calling out over his shoulder to remind them all to fill in the forms. Buck Buick and Fred Lee departed also in silence.

MacIver remained seated, as did Silenzio who turned to him and said, “do you have time to come for a short ride? I’d like to show you something you’ll find interesting.”

“Depends what and where.” MacIver eyed Das wriggling around in his corner.

“I can drive your car back, sir. Why don’t you go back with Dr. Silenzio?

“I don’t really have the time. But if it’s on the way back.”

“Besides, sir, if it’s OK, sir, I’d like to take the time to survey the streets around here for my car theft project.”

“Good idea Das. OK, Monica, if I may call you that, let’s go.”

“If I can call you Larry,” she said with a grin.