"He wants to establish credibility. He says he wants to help now, but first he wants to be taken seriously."
"Seriously? Seriously? He's a terrorist!" shouted Higgins. "No damn different than someone who throws a bomb into a crowded subway. You don't negotiate with terrorists!" He calmed him- self, not liking to show that degree of emotion. "But we want the story . . ." he sighed in resignation. Doug and Scott agreed in unison.
"Personally, it sounds like a macho ego thing," commented Doug.
"So what?" asked Higgins. "Motivation is independent of premedi- tation."
"Legally speaking . . ." Doug added. He wanted to make sure than John was aware that there were other than purely legal issues on the table.
"As I was saying," Scott continued. "The reservation computers are the single most important item in running the nation's air- lines. They all interact and talk to each other, and create billing, and schedule planes; they interface on line to the OAG . . .they're the brains. They all use Fault Tolerant equip- ment, that's spares of everything, off site backup of all records - I've checked into it. Whatever he's planned, it'll be a doo- sey."
"Well, it doesn't matter now," Higgins added with indifference. "Legally it's unsubstantiated hearsay. But with the computer transcripts of all your conversations, if anything happens, I'd say you'd have quite a scoop."
"That's what he wants! And we can't warn anybody?"
"That's up to the airlines, the FAA, not us." The phone on Hig- gins disk emitted two short warbles. He spoke into the phone. "Yeah? Who? Whooo?" He held the phone out to Scott and curled his lips. "It's for you. The White House." Scott glanced over at Doug who raised his bushy white eyebrows.
Scott picked up the phone on the end table by the leather couch; the one that Scott seemed to have made a second home. "Hello?" he asked hesitantly. "Yes? Well, I could be in Washington . . ." Scott looked over to Doug for advice. "The President?" Doug shook his head, yes. Whatever it is, go. "I'd be happy to," he said reading his watch. "A few hours?" He waited a few seconds. "Yes, I know the number. Off the record? Fine. Thank you."