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“It would be easier to skyjack another 767,” Witherington said. “If you think about it, when they took down the Trade Center and almost the Pentagon and the White House they really thought it through. They had great big airplanes—the wingspan of a 767 is 156 feet and some inches; the 727’s wingspan is 108 feet even . . .”
“A third wider, huh?” Castillo said. “I didn’t realize there was that much difference.”
“What the rag-heads had was airplanes with just about topped-off tanks,” Witherington said. “The 767 has a range of about 6,100 nautical miles. The tanks on a 767 can hold almost 24,000 gallons of fuel.”
“Jesus, that’s a lot of fuel!” Castillo said.
“Yeah, it is,” Witherington said. “And that’s what took down the Trade Towers. When all that fuel burned, it took the temper out of the structural steel—hell, melted a lot of it—and the building came down.”
“What you’re saying is that it probably wouldn’t have happened with a 727?”
“I really don’t want to sound like a know-it-all, but . . .”
“Hey, this is just between us. I’m grateful for your expertise. ”
“Just don’t quote me, huh?”
“You have my word,” Castillo said.
“The 727’s max range is no more that 2,500 miles,” Witherington said. “The way most of them are configured, no more than 1,500. And that means less fuel is needed, so smaller tanks. I never heard of a 727—and I’ve flown a lot of them—with tanks that hold more than 9,800 gallons; most hold about 8,000.”
“One-third of what a 767 carries,” Castillo said.
“Right,” Witherington said. “So, what I’m saying is that if I wanted to blow myself and some building up—and get a pass into heaven and the seven whores that are promised—I think I’d rather grab another 767 instead of going all the way to Africa to steal a 727, which wouldn’t do nearly as much damage, and which would be damned hard to get into any place where it could do damage. They’re still watching, as I guess you know, incoming aircraft pretty carefully.”
“So I’ve heard,” Castillo said.
“One of our guys was coming here from Rio in a 747,” Witherington said. “He was supposed to make a stop in Caracas but didn’t—there was weather, and we had another flight going in there an hour later—so he just headed for Miami. And forgot to change his flight plan. Twenty minutes after he was supposed to have landed at Caracas, he got a call from an excited controller asking him where he was and what he was doing, and he told him, and ten minutes after that—before he got to Santo Domingo—he looked out the window and saw a Navy fighter looking at him.”
“So what do you think happened to the 727?” Castillo asked.
“I think they probably flew it a couple of hundred miles—maybe less—and then started to cannibalize it. There’s a market for any part—engines on up—in what we call ‘the developing nations’—and no questions asked.”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Castillo said. “That makes sense.”
“Let me tell them where I’m going,” Witherington said, “and get a golf cart—the one 727 we have here, as a backup for this part of the country, is too far down the line to walk.”
“You’re really being helpful,” Castillo said. “I appreciate it.”
“My pleasure. Be right back.”
When Witherington was out of earshot, Castillo said, “After we get the tour—which shouldn’t take long—we’ll get some breakfast, and then you can head home.”
“I was hoping you would say, ‘Fernando, since you’re staying over why don’t you stay with me? We can have dinner or something.’ ”
“You’re staying over?”
“I have to confer with our Washington attorneys.”
“What about?”
“So I can truthfully tell the IRS the reason I brought the Lear to Washington was to confer with our Washington attorneys. And not using the corporate aircraft for personal business.”
“What about you picking me up at Savannah?”
“That was a routine cross-country proficiency flight.”
“You’re a devious man, Fernando.”
