Saeed Shayhidi was back in his familiar element. Although he was confident about his disguise, he avoided going to his office building. His executive assistant, Gamaa al-Harith, was his go-between. The CIA agents watching the office had no idea who al-Harith was or what he did. He was just one of the many anonymous employees who came and went during the course of the day.
Living in a modest dwelling until his new home was built, Shayhidi was selling the remaining cargo ships and tankers in his fleet, consolidating his resources into long-term investments that could not be sunk or blown apart. Yes, life was pleasant again and he still had a plethora of assets to use against the infidels.
The company lawyers were fighting with the insurance companies while Shayhidi, using his new identity, was negotiating for a new airplane. He smiled every time he thought about Macklin and the CIA. Now, after putting his life back together, he could concentrate on continuing the attacks on the United States.
Brad Austin was shaving when his wife, Leigh Ann, walked into the master bathroom. "I'm sorry to bother you, but you have a phone call."
"Tell them I'll call back in a few minutes."
"I tried that," she said with a smile. "Its urgent; someone from your office."
He wiped the shaving cream off with a hand towel and walked to the phone beside the bed. "Austin."
Leigh Ann, sensing something important was developing, brushed her teeth while she listened to her husband's phone conversation.
"What's up?" she asked, when he walked back into the bathroom.
"It looks like the bombing campaign is having an adverse effect on the hosts of the terrorist groups. Syria and Lebanon are particularly incensed about the American, Israeli, and British warships standing off their coastlines. It seems that shipping has been effectively halted."
"That sounds like good news."
"You bet." He applied fresh shaving cream. "Iran, Syria, Lebanon, and Sudan, collectively, have requested a secret conference with us at a neutral location. They want us to stop the bombing now and then make a decision about where to convene for the talks."
She looked at Brad's reflection in the mirror. "Sure. After all the attacks we've suffered, please stop the bombing — then we'll talk."
"Well, the president makes the final call, but I'm going to recommend we continue the bombing — intensify it, if possible — until they are begging us to come to the table."
"How much damage are we really doing?"
"A lot. Bombs are literally falling round the clock."
"Do you believe the leaders of the host nations can actually control the terrorist groups?"
"Not completely too many zealots are operating on their own."
"Then it just goes on?"
"Probably so, but greatly diminished." Brad turned to Leigh Ann. "Every time we have an act of terrorism perpetrated against American citizens, we will flatten terrorist compounds. They can live in rubble all their lives or stop this madness."
"Youd think it would dawn on the terrorists that they cant win."
"They'd rather die than come to their senses, and we can certainly accommodate them."
Leigh Ann reached for her coffee cup. "Do they really have to be pulverized, bombed into submission?"
"Yes, eradicated; not on this planet anymore."
"I see." She was shocked by his honesty.
After September eleventh, the majority of U. S. intelligence data indicated the space shuttles were high-value targets for terrorists. The greatest concern was not an attack from the ground, or from the sea, but a suicidal terrorist attack from the air. Even a relatively small general aviation aircraft could destroy a fueled orbiter on the launchpad.
Having carefully analyzed the risks, the NASA administrator and the White House had decided to increase security to wartime conditions and continue the launches. To ground the remaining space shuttles would give the terrorists another huge moral victory and delay placing critical military satellites in orbit.
Atlantis was poised for a late-afternoon launch on Pad 39B. Fueled with 1.3 million pounds of liquid oxygen, 225,000 pounds of liquid hydrogen, and 2 million pounds of solid propellant, the 4.4-million-pound shuttle was scheduled to launch a new spy satellite.
All general-aviation aircraft operating under visual flight rules were banned from a thirty-mile radius of Pad 39B, beginning twenty-four hours before the proposed launch time.
Atlantis was being protected by Florida Air National Guard F-16s vectored by AWACS and FAA radars. The fighters would cover the central and eastern areas of Florida, while Air National Guard F-15S would patrol the immediate area around the Kennedy Space Center. Kansas Air National Guard KC-135 tankers would supply fuel for the fighters.
One of the key surveillance elements for the fighter aircraft was the portable USAF/Northrop Grumman radar with a 240-nautical-mile range. The radar could track objects with a cross section of only nine feet. The unit, from the 728th Air Combat Squadron at Eglin AFB, Florida, was deployed to Cape Canaveral, several miles south of the space shuttle pad. The radar also supported USAF Avenger/ Stinger surface-to-air missile batteries located nearby.
Army Apache attack helicopters worked with NASA Huey helicopters to form a low-altitude ground security ring. Air force reserve HH-60 helicopters from Patrick AFB, Florida, patrolled for any sign of trouble and would perform rescue duties if necessary.
On the ground, scores of Humvees with 50-caliber machine guns patrolled the launch complex. Off the coast of the space center, two armed coast guard cutters provided surveillance at sea in the restricted area. Light antiaircraft guns and shoulder-fired surface-to-air missiles were deployed close to the launch site.
Anticipation on the orbiter s flight deck was building as the shuttle commander, Navy Captain Owen Paddock, and the mission pilot, Air Force Lieutenant Colonel Gavin Dinsmore, continued with the extensive preflight checks.
"Control, Atlantis shows cabin pressure nominal," Paddock reported.
"Roger, nominal."
At T-minus-thirty minutes, the ground crew secured the white room and retired to the fallback area.
Paddock and Dinsmore completed their voice checks. Paddock copied the weather for a return-to-launch-site abort and for the Transadantic Abort Sites at Moron and Zaragosa, Spain, and Ben Gu6rir, Morocco.
Four marine corps AH-1W Super Cobra attack helicopters made a pass down the beach and began a wide orbit around the shuttle facility. The gunships would remain in the pattern until T-minus-two minutes.
Paddock and Dinsmore continued the countdown with Mission Control and Launch Control including the abort check.
After a mandatory hold to catch up before beginning the final phase of the countdown, the clock resumed at T-minus-nine minutes.
"Control, Atlantis event timer started."
"Roger, Atlantis."
At T-minus-seven minutes the crew-access arm retracted. Paddock and Dinsmore secured all loose personal items.
T-minus-six minutes. "Atlantis, initiate APU prestart."
"Roger, Houston."
At the five-minute mark, Paddock keyed his radio. "Control, Atlantis is powering up the APUs."
"Roger"
"APUs are looking good," Paddock radioed.
"Atlantis, you re on internal power."
"Roger."
At T-minus-three minutes the orbiter s main engines swiveled to their launch position.
"Atlantis, main engine gimbal complete."
"Roger."
One minute later, the marine attack helicopters departed the area and flew to a distant holding pattern.
As they continued through the checks, Paddock glanced at Dinsmore. "Are you ready to light the burners?"