At approximately 7:59 on the morning of September 11, 2001, American Airlines Flight 11 from Boston to Los Angeles had taken off from Logan International Airport. The plane was a Boeing 767, with ninety-two people on board, including crew. Soon after 8:16, the plane, flying at 29,000 feet, deviated from its scheduled course and failed to respond to repeated calls from Boston Air Traffic Control. For a time, its whereabouts were unclear.

At 8:26 the plane turned south. By now BATC had heard the leading hijacker giving instructions to the passengers. At 8:37 the plane was spotted. It was flying south approximately along the line of the Hudson River. NORAD was informed and two F-15 fighters were prepared for take-off from the Otis base in Massachusetts.

At 8:43 the plane made a final turn toward Manhattan.

Very few people noticed the plane as it approached the city. For a start, there wasn’t much time. Initially, the sight of a plane flying low toward Manhattan would not have seemed so strange. Plenty of planes, if not on quite this flight path, came in low over the city as they approached nearby La Guardia. As it passed over the city, few people in the narrow canyons of the streets would even have seen it. Those on the waterfront, or across the river in New Jersey, did see it, however. Though it did not seem out of control, it was now far too low. Some witnesses thought the pilot must be in trouble and was maybe hoping to crash-land in the Hudson.

Only at the last moment did the plane level out, appear to accelerate, and head straight for the northern face of the World Trade Center Number 1 Tower. It did not occur to people that this extraordinary flight path was deliberately chosen.

At 8.46 the plane smashed into the side of the North Tower just above the ninety-third floor and embedded itself deep into the building with a huge explosion. It was traveling at 404 knots and carried 10,000 gallons of fuel.

At 8:35, Dr. Caruso had been ushered into the office. It was only in the twenties in the South Tower, but the view over the water was splendid. The insurance agent, Doug, an old friend, had told him he’d join him in a minute. Standing at the window, Caruso had glanced up.