Homeland Security Air Warrior

aul Polski understands genius-both benevolent and evil.

For 10 years, Polski directed a team of 80 scientists at the Federal Aviation Administration's Security Research and Development Lab. Known as the "green berets of science," they stood at the vanguard of the war on terrorism, years before it was declared.

The security lab was established following the bombing of Pan Am Flight 103 in December 1988 over the village of Lockerbee, Scotland. Under Polski's guidance, the lab produced three dozen devices to minimize damage from an explosion aboard an airplane and to thwart terrorists trying to sneak bombs on board in the first place. Among the lab's greatest achievements was certifying the first explosive detection system, which senses objects inside luggage. It advanced the field of security the way the telescope forever altered astronomy.

Such a detector probably could have spared the 259 souls aboard Pan Am 103 and 11 more on the ground. Polski knows it. In fact, it haunts him.

He recalls details of the attack, perpetrated by Libyan government agents, with obsessive precision. It took 12 to 14 ounces of plastic explosive to rip a hole in the fuselage of the jumbo jet, which then tore apart mid-flight, Polski explains. The small bomb was hidden inside a portable stereo. "A Toshiba Bomb Blast stereo," Polski notes, pausing to absorb the terrible irony of the brand name.

Preventing another Pan Am 103 became Polski's passion. The Naval Academy graduate, who flew combat missions in Vietnam, eschewed the spotlight-loving life of a fighter ace for the admiral-like role of manager. Polski had completed a master's degree in engineering management in 1971, and the lab gave him a chance to build a team and tackle a national problem.

The early days weren't easy. "He started with nobody," says Susan Hallowell, who worked in the lab. But "he brought the right people together. . . . It was Paul's vision to put together this office."

As the team succeeded, Polski reflected their success. "He glowed brighter when others did," says Lee Spanier, another lab employee.

The lab, which now sits in the Homeland Security Department, has had unquestionable success. But Polski's career is marked with a tragic epilogue. The downing of Pan Am 103 didn't compel airlines to implement the devices Polski's gurus had birthed. In the nearly 13 years between the crash and the Sept. 11 attacks-which prompted a law requiring explosives screening of all passenger luggage-terrorists bombed three more airplanes, claiming 285 lives.

Polski says a "creeping complacency" settled in following those bombings. The airlines never purchased the security devices because the law never forced them to, he says.

Just as now, the airlines protested that paying billions for extra security could sink the financially faltering industry. The government stepped in to fund additional measures, but they weren't enough to get a full program off the ground.

Yet there is hardly a trace of bitterness in Polski as he recounts the tortured saga. He handles grief in his own way, attending annual memorials to the victims of Pan Am 103. And he marches on professionally. Now he is the chief of staff to the chief technology officer at the Transportation Security Administration, helping lead the multibillion-dollar deployment of explosive detection systems-the same devices his lab developed-to more than 400 airports across the country.

Polski reflects on the slow-going years and is glad that work is finally getting done. But ever the observer of human behavior, he knows it's human nature to react only when assailed. His crusade has been characterized by a harsh truth, he says. "The money follows the blood."