Double Fault at Roland Garros

by Jim Plautz

  A small airplane appeared on the horizon and the 16,000 tennis fans packed into Philippe Chatrier stadium looked skyward as the small, propeller driven antique airplane approached the stadium. An additional 24,000 fans were spread out around the spacious Roland Garros grounds and watched as the plane moving lazily into their view.

  There was a collective gasp followed by wild applause from 40,000 people as four Mirage 2000-5 fighter jets appeared out of the setting sun traveling close to the speed of sound and zoomed over the slow-moving monoplane. The four modern fighter jets, a mainstay of the French air force since 1984, dipped their wings as they passed over the stadium, as if to salute the origin of the modern fighter jet. Many of the older, more knowledgeable fans recognized the World War 1 vintage plane as it slowly banked into the 12 MPH wind and landed softly within the stadium.

  Electronic scoreboards and sound systems announced the landing of the Morane-Saulnier monoplane, and the pilot, Jacques Bertrand Garros, great grandson of the legendary fighter pilot Roland Garros and the world’s first combat pilot designated as an ‘Ace’. Jacques Garros, resplendent in leather helmet, goggles and a WWI French officer’s uniform, stepped out of the monoplane and was greeted by a thunderous ovation.

  Roland Garros was an early French aviator and is credited with being the first World War 1 fighter pilot. In 1913, airplanes were used primarily for reconnaissance to monitor troop movement and assess strength. Pilots carried a pistol or rifle for defense. Like tennis, it was a gentleman’s vocation.

  Garros, born in 1888, started flying in 1913 and had already won fame as a flier when he joined one of the first observation squadrons to be organized by the French. A former student of the piano, Garros had originally gone to Paris to complete his musical education. There he saw his first airplane and before long the piano was forgotten.

  Garros persuaded the famous Brazilian airplane designer, Alberto Santos-Dumont, to teach him to fly. He proved an apt pupil and soon was one of the best fliers in France and took part in air races and exhibition flights in Europe and the United States. In 1913 he became the first man to fly across the Mediterranean Sea. The 453-mile trip from southern France to Tunisia took him a little less than eight hours.

  It wasn’t until early in 1914 airplanes were fitted with automatic guns. The main problem with the early designs was the propeller. Raymond Saulnier devised a crude arrangement of steel deflectors fixed to the airscrew blades; the steel plates deflected bullets not passing between the blades away from the propeller. Upon the outbreak of war, the idea was temporarily abandoned.

  Roland Garros was enthralled by the idea of an airplane with machine guns, and set out to modify the original Saulnier design. He figured that less than seven percent of the bullets he fired would strike the propeller. To guard against accidents from that seven percent, he designed triangular metal shields for the back of the propeller blades. The shields were angled to deflect bullets away from the plane and the pilot.

  On April 1, 1915, he was ready to field-test his invention. He flew a French Morane-Saulnier biplane because his regular monoplane was not in working order that day. Soon after take-off, Garros spotted four German Albatros observation planes heading for the French lines. He caught up with them, turned into the nearest one, and fired. A burst of machine-gun bullets flew through his whirling propeller, and the Albatros went down. Garros quickly regained altitude and went after the 2nd plane. Once more, flames sparkled brightly between his propeller blades and a second Albatros exploded in midair. The two surviving Albatros’ pilots headed for home at full throttle.

  Roland Garros flew his Morane over the battleground and in the next two weeks his forward-firing gun shot down three more German planes, and he became the first Allied “Ace” of World War I. At that time “ace” was a word applied loosely to anyone who accomplished something outstanding; the man who won a bicycle race was an ace; the futball player that scored the most goals was an ace. However, the term “Ace” soon became synonymous with fighter pilots and the standard for becoming an “Ace” was set in future wars at five, the standard achieved in 1915 by the former piano student, Roland Garros.

  Several weeks later Roland Garros’ monoplane was forced down behind enemy lines. Germans captured both him and his airplane, and his deflectors were copied and improved upon by Anthony Fokker, the Dutch airplane designer working for the Germans. The Fokker design became the staple of the German air force for many years. Garros languished in a German prison camp for three years before escaping, and rejoining the French air force. In 1918 Garros became separated from his wingman and was shot sown and killed near Vouziers, France, twenty miles from the German border.

 

  The French had done an amazing job with the opening ceremony. The Simpson family, together with most of the Global Management project team, watched the air show from a luxury suite provided us by the Roland Garros executive council. Although I had been forewarned about the fly-in, I was as excited as the rest of the 40,000 people. Marco and Ken knew, but I hadn’t told Mary or the kids anything about the program.

  “That was amazing,” Mary exclaimed as they towed the airplane out of the stadium. “Did you know about this?”

  “What do you think?” Chris Lewis answered. “Do you think the CIA or French police would have let an airplane fly into the stadium if it hadn’t been cleared in advance? This whole area has been designated a no-fly zone for the entire two weeks.”

  “Look! Here come the past champions,” Lisa interrupted excitedly. “This is what I’ve been waiting for.”

  “I understand every living past champion will be here,” Ken commented, “men and women.”

  The Master of Ceremony made an announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, before we honor the great champions that are with us today, we would like to pay tribute to the contributions of those great players that came before them. Symbolizing these early years in women’s tennis was one of the great players of all time, our own, Suzanne Lenglen. Please listen and watch the video screens.”

  When we think of prominent players who have changed tennis history, one who comes to mind is the incomparable French champion Suzanne Lenglen. Ranked number one in the world in both 1925 and 1926, she was known not only for her graceful strokes and ballet footwork, but also for her tennis fashion - which included plunging necklines and dress hems that extended just below the knee. At first, observers were skeptical of Miss Lenglen’s distinctive manner of dress, but soon other women adapted to the style. Her dress became the precedent for the fashions we see today. A three-minute video shown on the giant Jumbotron highlighted her tennis achievements.

  French men dominated men’s tennis in the late 1920s. Four tennis champions, known as the “Musketeers”, were virtually unbeatable: Jean Borotra, Rene Lacoste, Henri Cochet and Jacques Brugnon. Each Frenchman had talent and charisma. Borotra was called the “Bounding Basque from Biarritz,” known for his energy, speed and acrobatic volleying ability. He always wore a signature blue beret, both on and off the court. Lacoste, nicknamed “the Crocodile,” was a self-made champion known and revered for his hard work, devotion and determination. He designed the first tennis shirts made specifically for tennis. Adorned on the left breast of every shirt was his signature trademark, the crocodile.

  There was a moment of silence to commemorate the memory of the great champions that could not be with us today.

  The Parade of Champions started as the crowd rose in tribute. One-by-one, the champions were introduced and walked from the player’s entrance to center court enjoying once more the applause and adulation they had enjoyed in another era.

  Frank Parker and Doris Hart, the oldest living champions, led the way and received a nice welcome.

  French Open champions Francoise Durr, Guy Forget, Henri Leconte and Yannick Noah, plus still active champions Sebastian Grosjean and Amelie Mauresmo, received thunderous ovations from the French crowd.

  The biggest ovation was saved for a Swede, six-time winner
Bjorn Borg. Pete joined the 40,000 screaming fans and applauded loudly as Borg shuffled to center court. I hoped I would meet hir at the champion dinner. I wanted to thank him.

  “Lisa, what are you doing with the your cell phone?” I asked. “You’re missing the excitement.”

  “No, I’m not. Look, this phone has all the video and highlights of every past championship. Didn’t you get one in your welcome package?”

  “No, I haven’t seen one before. Is that what the past champions are looking at? I couldn’t help but notice that half of them keep looking down at something.”

  “Sure,” Pete said looking at his phone. “All the players and past champions received one in their hotel room. Here, take a look at mine.”

  “Did you get one, Jim?” Chris asked as she studied the phone.

  “Yeah, it’s in my briefcase. Most of the project team got one. Ken, you got one too, didn’t you?”

  “Hey, Chris, what are you doing to my phone?” Pete asked as he watched Chris pry the phone open and study the insides.

  I watched her face turn white as she scratched the coating from the battery. She grabbed her own cell phone and dialed a number as she reached over the chair and tore Lisa’s phone from her grasp. “Put all the phones in this bag,” she ordered in a tone that left no room for argument; “they are miniature bombs.”

  “This is Chris Lewis, CIA ID #02363488. Code red, I repeat, code red. Implement Plan G-1 Hurry! Please confirm.”

  “Are these all the phones?” She asked, grabbing the bag.

  We were still answering yes, when she tore out of the suite. “I looked down at the field and noticed that the champions were all assembled and the festivities were coming to a close.

  Agbu, his friend Jorge and two Al-Qaeda terrorists watched the ceremonies on television from a hillside overlooking the stadium, about 300 yards from the ceremony. “It’s time,” the Al-Qaeda leader, Abdul, announced.

  “Agbu nodded and started dialing the cell phone number. He hesitated, before entering the last digit, savoring the moment. His only regret was not being close enough to see Jim Simpson and his family explode into tiny pieces. “Anton,” this is for you.” He whispered as he his forefinger pressed the final digit.

  The gift baskets and cell phones had been his idea, and the plan had been executed brilliantly. It was a testament to Agbu’s planning and leadership skills that would have carried him far in the business world. In January, using layers of dummy companies to hide their identity, the Basque purchased a small, French cell phone company that had patents for a new video process that dramatically increased the capacity to download video recordings into cell phones. They simultaneously entered into a $1M per year agreement with the Roland Garros Board of Directors identifying them as the official cell phone company for the French Open.

  Agbu knew that the litiumlon battery used in a cell phone provided sufficient power to detonate a bomb, and itself can be turned into a bomb. The trick was to ensure that the explosives used were undetectable from the latest security systems that were used at Roland Garros. Agbu and Bruno solved this problem with a simple procedure. They painted each battery with a lacquer paint that blocked the particle emissions that were detected by sensors.

  The advertising campaign was a stroke of genius and tremendously successful. Ads for the new cell phone company started appearing on French television and in major newspapers three weeks before the tournament, and by the final week it was impossible to watch television in Paris without seeing a promo for the new product. The advertising campaign cost $5M per week, but had already generated $60M of orders for the new cell phones.

  Everyone wanted to have the new latest and greatest cell phone that offered inside information on the design and construction of the new Roland Garros stadium plus interviews and highlights of this year’s French Open. 50,000 phones were shipped a week ago, arriving at the dealer’s hands on Friday. The early response from consumers was fantastic, generating another $30M of orders in two days.

  Central to the advertising campaign was a promotional sweepstakes; “WIN 100,000 Euros if your cell phone number is called immediately following the Champions Parade, but YOU MUST BE PRESENT to win. It seemed that most of the 40,000 fans packed into the stadium carried a new cell phone.

  Agbu’s second advertising gimmick was to provide gift baskets to all tennis players, past champions and Roland Garros officials including key people from the construction team. These gift baskets were in the hotel rooms of each out-of-town recipient and were delivered by a private messenger service to the others. Agbu wasted no expense; the gift baskets were beautiful. Baskets included bottles of wine from the Beaune wine-growing region of Southern France; a Domaine Glantenet Bourgogne Chardonnay and a Calvet Cote De Beaune Villages Red. Small tins of French caviar, black and green olives, bottled water, baguettes of bread and Blue Brie from the Burgundy Region, and Camembert from the Normandy Region, sculptured into figures of famous Paris landmarks were arranged into a mouth-watering presentation. Featured was a private, limited edition cell phone and collectors item, engraved with the recipient’s name and etched with a picture of the new Roland Garros Stadium. Unknown to each user, the phones also included a special Litiumlon battery.

  The limited edition cell phones were also programmed and synchronized to be addressable from Agbu’s cell phone, allowing Agbu to remotely access every cell phone with a single phone call. Only Agbu’s cell phone could detonate the bombs imbedded in the phones.

  Agbu waited for the explosions, designed to kill everyone within 15 feet of the limited edition cell phones. Nothing.

  “What’s wrong?” the Abdul asked.

  Agbu looked at his phone and realized he had forgotten to hit the send button.

  Agbu’s thumb depressed the green, send button and he braced himself for the explosions and the chaos that would follow. Al-Qaeda suicide bombers were waiting in vans for the people to start pouring out of the stadium and into the parking lots and subway stations where explosives had already been planted.

  Still nothing!

  Agbu redialed the number and hit send; nothing. Nada.

  “Maybe we need to get closer,” Abdul said frantically.

  “Jorge, drive down into the park. Maybe the signal is too weak?” Agbu said half-heartedly. He knew something was wrong.

  As the van headed down towards the park surrounding the new stadium, Agbu saw the Al-Qaeda suicide cars waiting for their signal. He couldn’t figure why the explosives had not detonated. They had tested the signal at this distance several times.

  They reached the outside perimeter of the stadium and Agbu dialed the number again. Still nothing. “I don’t know why it isn’t working,” Agbu said aloud, knowing that Abdul and his friend had guns aimed at his back.

  Agbu got his answer when he saw the security gates open and the French police cars head directly towards their van. “Get out of here, Jorge, they are on to us. They must be jamming our signal.”

  Jorge had barely made his turn when bullets started raking the van. The police cars were closing fast and it was obvious they weren’t going to make it. “Head for those trees,” Agbu shouted, as he spotted the trees and dense underbrush at the east end of the park. If they could make it to the forest they might be able to slip away in the growing darkness.

  They almost made it. They were only 20 meters from the relative safety of the woods when police gunfire punctured the gasoline tank and the van exploded in flames. The last thing Agbu remembered was seeing his friend Jorge slumped over the steering wheel with a bullet through his forehead.

  Chris raced out of the suite heading towards the nearest security station which were all equipped with, steel reinforced bomb disposal containers. Without taking time to unload the cell phones, she dumped her entire purse into the enclosure and slammed the top shot. “Don’t open the lid,” she shouted to the security guards as she flashed her CIA credentials and sprinted out to the security building 100 meters away. What seemed li
ke 11 seconds later she burst into the office housed by CIA and French security officials.

  “Did we block the cell phone transmissions?” Chris shouted to the nearest technician, a 27-year old rookie policeman pulled off his regular duties for this event.

  “Not yet,” the man responded. “We are waiting for authorization from our superiors.”

  “Do it now!” Chris ordered as she pulled her gun and pointed it at the frightened policeman. “We don’t have time to go through channels. Now!” she commanded, and watched as the jamming signal was initiated.

  Netline’s VHP ECM broadband RF jammer is based on sophisticated jamming technology developed by ex-military warfare experts. Designed to defend military convoys and police EOD teams against remote controlled improvised explosive devices (RCIED) used by terrorists, The C-Guard VHP ECM effectively jams the signals of radio transmitters used to remotely activate explosive devices and bombs. By accurately jamming the remote control frequencies, it cuts off radio communications from the triggering transmitter to the receiver on the bomb and preventing bomb detonation. It is a standard tool in the war against terrorists in Afghanistan and Iraq.

  The young policeman couldn’t believe he was looking down the barrel of a gun. “This woman is crazy,” he thought, but he did as he was told. “There, it’s done. Will you please put the gun away?”

  Chris looked down at her hand and wondered how the gun had gotten there. “I’m sorry, I guess I got carried away, but we didn’t have time to argue,” she explained holstering her weapon.

  The French security chief, followed by Chris’ CIA boss, burst into the room demanding to know what was going on. Moments earlier they had been alerted to Chris order to implement contingency Plan G-1 which they both knew was an order to jam all cell phone signals within a three mile radius of the stadium.

  Rather than take time to explain, Chris grabbed the souvenir cell phone off her boss’s belt, and quickly dismantled the phone. She pointed to the battery, scraping off the paint that camouflaged the battery containing enough Semtex to blow the room to shreds. “Every one of the special edition phones must be rigged to explode.” Chris explained. “The others must be okay because I worked with the technicians that checked them out. That’s the only reason I was able to spot the problem so fast,” she explained.

  “Alert all security stations,” the French chief of police ordered, quickly springing into action. “We are on red alert,” he announced, repeating Chris’ earlier command. “Tell everyone to be on the lookout for an attack.”

  “Chris, organize a team and get these phones into a safe place. There might be some other way to set them off,” her boss ordered.

  “I’m on my way,” Chris said heading for the door. “We might also be on the lookout for a suspicious car or van in the area. The terrorists would need to be within 1,000 meters to detonate this device.”

  “Good idea,” the Frenchman said, giving the order to his men. “Let’s send out a few patrols and search the surrounding neighborhoods.”

  Five minutes later word came in that a van had been spotted approaching the perimeter and the police were giving chase.

  The Champions Parade and speeches ended and everyone waited for the phone call indicating the winner of the 100,000 euro sweepstakes. Thousands of people were planning how they were going to spend their winnings. Murmurs traveled through the crowd as it became apparent that something was wrong with the cell phone service in the area. The crowd was becoming restless when the announcement was made.

  “Ladies and gentleman, we have just received word that all cell phone service in this area has been disrupted due to problems with a cell relay tower. I have been notified that the winning cell phone number is 555-210-4365. If this is your number, please bring your phone to center court and claim your winnings. Does anyone have that number?”

  A scream came from a woman in the lower deck,” announcing that the winner of the 100,000 Euros was indeed present. There were a lot of disappointed fans.

  “Thank you for coming tonight.”

  The crowd slowly made their way out of the stadium, most of them clutching their disabled cell phones.

  The Past Champions headed for the restaurant where the Champions dinner was to be held. Many were surprised when they were asked to surrender their new cell phones. “What’s wrong?” many of them asked.

  “It’s just a technical glitch,” the security people explained. “The technicians promise they will fix the problem and get the phones back to you in a week.”

  Executives and officials leaving the luxury suites were also asked to turn in their phones. The last unaccounted phone was found six hours later and 1,500 miles away. George Hunt, who had been unable to stay for the ceremonies, departed in his private jet and was met in New York by security guards. “It’s working fine,” he said, before surrendering the phone.

  “We have all the phones” Chris reported to her boss and French authorities. “That was the last one.”

  “You didn’t tell me how you got a master list,” he said. “Are you sure there aren’t any others out there?”

  “Let’s just say that the CEO of the cellular company decided to cooperate.” She answered with a smile. “I’m pretty sure we have them all.”

  “Well, even if we don’t, it looks like we got the terrorists that had the master phone. We think they were in that van that exploded. Forensics is looking through the ruins as we speak, but it’s going to take awhile before they know for sure. The bodies are all burned beyond recognition.”

  “How many bodies are there?”

  “Three, as far as we can tell.”

  Mary and I arrived late to the Champions dinner, but early enough to have a much needed cocktail before dinner. We were pleasantly surprised that news of the terrorist plan had not leaked. We waited until after the evening’s entertainment was complete before I updated the Steering Committee.

  “We made it. We are ready to play this year’s French Open.”

  Part Five

  The French Open

  Day 1 (Monday)

  Pete vs Agassi