CHAPTER ONE.
Heathrow, Terminal 3 Departures, 6am. 16th September 2002.
The last check-in time for American Airlines flight AA115 from Heathrow to New York was seven in the morning.
The killers arrived at six.
The early morning sun glinted off the dark tinted windows of an expensive Mercedes saloon car as it drew up outside the airport concourse. With its’ engine running quietly, the driver waited for a parking slot then glided into the curb. The doors opened, and four men wearing dark colored track suits stepped out into the throng of departing travelers. The grey ‘U’ shaped building enclosed a jostling queue of cabs and cars fighting for a place to set down passengers. The passengers, grabbing trolleys and loading them with luggage, eager to check in, streamed into the departure area, at first milling around then finding and joining the queues for their flights. The driver of the Mercedes saloon got out opened the car trunk and unloaded four long sports bags onto the pavement. He closed the trunk and the car doors, got back into the driving seat and began to study a road atlas. He waved and nodded in reply to the traffic controller on duty who waved him on. He seemed to be working out his route to the next destination so the traffic controller left him, and moved on down the line of vehicles.
Each of the four men picked up a sports bag. Three of them looked expectantly at the fourth man as if waiting for a signal. The fourth man appeared to be weighing the odds. The first anniversary of 9/11 had passed five days ago, security would now have relaxed somewhat.
He seemed to reach a point of no return. His tongue probed a triangular ridged scar in the roof of his mouth; his mind went back twenty years to the day in Shatila camp, the tastes of cordite and gun oil came flooding back. He took a deep breath and gave a short nod. In a well-rehearsed drill the men split into pairs and entered the crowded departure hall through different doorways ten yards apart. Inside the pairs turned left to zone ‘B’, the American Airlines check-in zone, and split again. Each man moved to a prearranged position, put down his grip and unzipped the top.
Retribution Page 2
