The Eleventh Day_ The History and Legacy of 9_11 - Anthony Summers [135]
His maxim, though, that “simplicity was the key to success,” was in many ways probably right. He urged team members “to be normal to the maximum extent possible in their dealings, to keep the tone of their letters educational, social, or commercial.” Though averse to the unnecessary use of codes, he did develop some. If telephone numbers had to be used in correspondence, KSM directed, they were to be rendered so that the real numeral and the coded one totaled ten. His own number in Pakistan—92-300-922-388—thus became 18-700-188-722.
For Atta, some of the preparation for the mission took the form of what to others counts as fun. He was to be seen “playing video games on a PlayStation—flying a plane.” KSM thought Atta “worked hard, and learned quickly.” He gave him sufficient authority to be able to make decisions on his own, to press ahead without having to consult too often. One of the Saudis bin Laden had originally chosen, Nawaf al-Hazmi, was to be his deputy.
Each of the five early team members was honored with a kunyah, an honorific prefaced by Abu—meaning, literally, “father,” though the bearer of the name need not have children. In this case, all the kunyahs harked back to the days of the Prophet. As Binalshibh remembered them: Atta was “Father of the servant of the Beneficent, the Egyptian,” one of the followers to whom the Prophet pledged the certainty of Paradise; Shehhi was Abu’l’Qaqa’a al-Qatari, literally “the sound of clashing swords, from Qatar” (though he was in fact a citizen of the United Arab Emirates); and Jarrah was Abu Tareq al-Lubnani, literally, “Father of the one who knocks at the door, the Lebanese”—probably after an Arab commander celebrated for his conquests in North Africa and southern Spain.
Bin Laden was keen for all the future hijackers to be on their way to the United States as soon as possible—including the two Saudis, Nawaf al-Hazmi and Khalid al-Mihdhar. Hazmi was to be Rab’iah al Makki, to whom the Prophet promised anything he should ask. Mihdhar was to be Sinan, “the Spear.” They were to be the trailblazers of the 9/11 operation.
AT THE TURN of the year, on the night of the Millennium, President Clinton had watched a fireworks display and hosted a large dinner at the White House. “It was a wonderful evening,” he recalled, “but I was nervous all the time. Our security team had been on high alert for weeks due to numerous intelligence reports that the United States would be hit with several terrorist attacks.… I had been focused intently on bin Laden.”
The Millennium, a cause for celebration for millions, also seemed just the moment the terrorists might strike. On December 6, in Jordan, a group of terrorists had been caught while preparing to bomb a hotel used by American and Israeli tourists. They had been overheard on a telephone intercept talking with bin Laden’s aide Abu Zubaydah.
On December 14, concern about a coming attack on the United States turned to a permanent state of alarm. The driver of a Chrysler sedan, waiting to enter Washington State from a ferry arriving from Canada, caught the attention of an alert Customs officer. There was something about the man. He was fidgeting, sweating profusely, would not look her in the eye. Hidden in the car, officers discovered, were bomb-making materials—RDX and HMTD explosives, chemicals, and Casio watch timing devices.
The man turned out to be Ahmed Ressam, an Algerian who was to admit—much later—that his intended target had been Los Angeles International Airport. The plan, he said, had been to explode the bomb on or about the day of the Millennium. He had learned about explosives in bin Laden’s Afghan training camps, and he, too, had had contact with Abu Zubaydah. He had planned the foiled attack himself, Ressam said, but bin Laden had been “aware” of it.
After the Ressam arrest, and with the Millennium looming, everyone thought there was more to come. A round of frenzied activity began. Clinton