20 Years Earlier, September 11, 2001
New York City, inside World Trade Center 7
CIA agent Anthony Bruschuto hung up the phone. General Bark noticed his sly smile and asked, "Who was that?"
"What did he want?"
"He said, 'Make sure that bitch is on the plane'."
General Barker laughed, "Did you tell him we escorted Barbara to Flight 11 with a pair of agents almost an hour ago?"
"That's exactly what I said."
"Alright, let's get down to serious business then."
"One and Two are wired, ready to go. This building is on standby. The planes go airborne in about an hour."
"And the evidence?"
"Dropped shithead's passport near the towers in a place where even the NYPD can find it. Our MOSSAD friends parked the car at Logan this morning with both bags inside."
"Did you stuff the luggage properly?"
"Koran, videocassette for a Boeing 767 Flight Simulator, and lists of fellow hijackers. They tossed in a suicide note, for good measure."
"Now we wait."
Anthony sat down checking his notes. General Barker hovered over the desk, reviewing the mock exercises planned for that day. Anthony's cell phone rang.
A voice on the other end spoke, "Employees of Odigo just received e-mails regarding the attack."
Anthony shook his head, "Yesterday, the stock trades and today this. Can't these people do anything without making a profit?"
The voice said, "We're over-riding their computer system now. That's the last message that will get out."
Anthony hung up the phone and remarked, "I am not feeling good about this. Too many people involved. Too many competing interests. Too many variables."
General Barker barely responded as he concentrated on the missions which the Pentagon developed to disable NORAD and confuse Air Traffic Controllers. He removed fighter planes from New York and Washington D.C.
Live video feed inside the President's limousine turned on.
The operation, known among higher circles as 'The Big Wedding', began...
Employees of Urban Moving Systems parked the van in Liberty park, New Jersey, a perfect back-drop to the Twin Towers. They took off their Saudi Arabian style robes and threw their turbans into the passenger seat.
"Grab the tripod and camera."
Wes Schwartz snagged the camera, looked through the view-finder and lined up a framed shot of the majestic World Trade Center.
"Tower One is on the right, focus on it first."
"We're going in numerical order then?"
He laughed as he zoomed in to the steel building, glimmering in the cloudless blue sky.
"My turn, start filming."
One of the agents jumped before the camera and danced like a white man at a hip hop club. They all laughed.
Another agent mocked the dance then flicked his Bic ® lighter a few times in the foreground of the North Tower.
"Get out of the way, it's almost time."
He looked at his gold Rolex watch, 8:46:26 a.m.
American Airlines Flight 11 flying over an innocent city, impacted the North Tower of the World Trade Center, between the 94th and 98th floors, the building enveloped the airliner like a pesky horsefly flying into a spider's glistening web.
Anthony said, "Hit the plunger."
General Barker pressed the red button.
Elevators below ground level exploded. Energy tore up the basement and demolished the main lobby as marble wall pieces slammed to the floor shattering on the ground.
The earpiece transponder commanded, "Hold steady, next plane is on the way."
Back in New Jersey...
"Holy shit. Did you get that on film, Wes?"
"I did. It was better than I thought."
The Mossad agents broke into another dance. An elderly lady watched from her bedroom window while dialing her phone.
Inside the adjacent tower, cubical office workers, security personnel, cleaning ladies, secretaries, maintenance men, janitors, assistants, and bellhops lined up and started marching orderly down stairs, assisting the handicapped and lifting the feeble as they evacuated the South Tower. The building's owner, Larry Silverstein, called in sick to work that day.
South Tower Public Address system announced, "Do not evacuate. Fires in the North Tower are under control. Remain in the South Tower as there may be falling debris outside. Please return to your offices."
People looked up at the voice emanating from the silver, metal box with dimple-holes in it and kept walking. The trusting ones turned around and returned to their high rise offices.
One of the trusting ones, while walking back upstairs, said to evacuees, "Fools, a steel beam will probably drop on your heads."
South Tower PA system announced again, "Do not evacuate, return to your offices at once. This is for your own safety."
Just as the trusting one sat at his desk on the 80th floor, he looked at the walnut clock his daughter gave him, 9:02:54 a.m....
United Airlines Flight 175 disappeared like a cartoon-cutout into the corner of the South Tower, between the 78th and 84th floors. The plane's engine tore from the wings, sailed through the building and crashed to the ground, six blocks away. Office paper birds flew out the gaping hole and gently floated to the ground carrying the names of the dead.
On the clearest day of the year, New York City clouded up.
Nestled snugly inside a Florida schoolhouse, the President of the United States kept reading the mesmerizing, magical book to the elementary grade class, "... 'Yes,' her dad said. 'That goat saved my car.'..."
As per the script, Andy Card entered the room and delivered his pre-planned words.
The President raised his eyebrows, turned the page and continued, "... 'The car robber said, 'something hit me when I was trying to steal that car'. The girl said, 'My goat hit you.'"
Across the river...
"You see that, you see that. Get that on film."
Wes panned across the smoldering towers. He stopped dancing and stared at the other men jumping and high-fiving. They didn't notice his smile fade away. He saw other people's eyes darting through opening and closing curtains, sharpening in on him and his friends as they celebrated.
New Jersey authorities dispatched police cars to Liberty Park where they received reports of possible collaborators.
Wes warned his fellow agents, "Take it easy on the jumping around, people are watching."
His friend hugged him, "This is a great day, my friend. For us and our country."
"Did anyone just hear those sirens?"
"Sirens are everywhere, my friend. It is a song for our future."
"Just take it easy. We filmed it, maybe we should go."
New Jersey's finest, patrol officers, Steve Nash and BlackJack Jones coasted around the back of the park, sirens silent and snuck up on the celebrants.
Officer Nash held out his revolver, "Hold it right there."
He pointed with the gun, "You with the camera, walk slowly over to your friends."
The agents huddled together.
"Blackjack, frisk them, I'll hold them here."
Blackjack checked them all out and removed a few box cutters and small knives. He handed them to officer Nash.
"Help me cuff these guys then search their car. With all this shit breaking down today, do an explosive test."
BlackJack helped Nash slap cuffs on the muscular guys and plastic wrist restraints on the weaker, then headed off to their van.
Minutes later he yelled up, "We're getting positive hits for traces of explosives."
Officer Nash pushed his gun to Agent Wes Schwartz's head, "You're involved then."
Wes calmly said, "We are not your problems, they, the Palestinians are your problems."
Officer Nash knocked him to the floor and radioed dispatch.
"This is disptach."
"Officer Nash and BlackJack, need back-up in Liberty Park, New Jersey. Five possible terror suspects."
"Gotcha, back-up on the way. Log in their names and time of arrest."
Officer Nash muttered, "Endless paperwork."
He punched in the Agent's names then logged the time into the police cruiser's on-board computer, 9:59:04am.
Rumbling explosions traveled up and down the South tower, steel beams ejected out of its facing and the tower mushroomed. Half-hour later, the sibling dropped the same way.
Dark clouds higher than the once-dwarfed remaining skyscrapers, raced down alleyways, tore threw streets, blew out windows, wobbled store fronts and buried cars, while carrying desks, legs, chairs, arms, laptops, laps, file cabinets, torsos, televisions, eyes, cellphones, ears, computers, brains, blackberries, fetuses and paper across lower Manhattan. God waited an eternity then piously swept away the debris and pulled back the shade ... New York's beating heart, stopped forever.
The President read and read and read and read, "...The girl hugged the goat. Her Dad said, "The goat can stay with us. And he can eat all the cans and canes and caps and capes he wants.'..."
He closed the book.
Copyright 2008 E.A. Blayre III
Thanks for the link to http://whatreallyhappened.com/