In chapters 3 and 4 we described how the U.S. government adjusted its existing agencies and capacities to address the emerging threat from Usama Bin Laden and his associates. After the August 1998 bombings of the American embassies in Kenya and Tanzania, President Bill Clinton and his chief aides explored ways of getting Bin Laden expelled from Afghanistan or possibly capturing or even killing him. Although disruption efforts around the world had achieved some successes, the core of Bin Laden's organization remained intact. President Clinton was deeply concerned about Bin Laden. He and his national security advisor, Samuel "Sandy" Berger, ensured they had a special daily pipeline of reports feeding them the latest updates on Bin Laden's reported location. In public, President Clinton spoke repeatedly about the threat of terrorism, referring to terrorist training camps but saying little about Bin Laden and nothing about al Qaeda. He explained to us that this was deliberate-intended to avoid enhancing Bin Laden's stature by giving him unnecessary publicity. His speeches focused especially on the danger of nonstate actors and of chemical and biological weapons. As the millennium approached, the most publicized worries were not about terrorism but about computer breakdowns-the Y2K scare. Some government officials were concerned that terrorists would take advantage of such breakdowns. On November 30, 1999, Jordanian intelligence intercepted a telephone call between Abu Zubaydah, a longtime ally of Bin Laden, and Khadr Abu Hoshar, a Palestinian extremist. Abu Zubaydah said, "The time for training is over." Suspecting that this was a signal for Abu Hoshar to commence a terrorist operation, Jordanian police arrested Abu Hoshar and 15 others and informed Washington. One of the 16, Raed Hijazi, had been born in California to Palestinian parents; after spending his childhood in the Middle East, he had returned to northern California, taken refuge in extremist Islamist beliefs, and then made his way to Abu Zubaydah's Khaldan camp in Afghanistan, where he learned the fundamentals of guerrilla warfare. He and his younger brother had been recruited by Abu Hoshar into a loosely knit plot to attack Jewish and American targets in Jordan. After late 1996, when Abu Hoshar was arrested and jailed, Hijazi moved back to the United States, worked as a cabdriver in Boston, and sent money back to his fellow plotters. After Abu Hoshar's release, Hijazi shuttled between Boston and Jordan gathering money and supplies. With Abu Hoshar, he recruited inTurkey and Syria as well as Jordan; with Abu Zubaydah's assistance, Abu Hoshar sent these recruits to Afghanistan for training.

Question: "When did Abu Zubaydah say, "The time for training is over.""

OPTIONS:
- no
- yes

Answer: "Before Y2K"

Response: no

After his cousin Joe dies , Layne Vassimer and his girlfriend Macy , along with their friends Stephen , Maurice , Iris and Katrina , decide to clean up Joe's house with the intention of selling it . When they see it for the first time , they discover the house completely covered in plates of iron armor . The group also finds crop circles in the nearby cornfield . When Iris , one of their friends , suddenly disappears they realize something is really wrong . During a blackout , the house is attacked by aliens , who had previously killed Joe and abducted Iris . The group figures out the aliens are allergic to iron , Joe had covered the house in it to keep them out . They attempt to fight the aliens off , but the house is eventually blown up with Layne , Macy , and Katrina the only survivors . In the end , they drive off , listening to the radio . They hear a news report stating that the blackout they experienced affects five western states and parts of Canada . They also hear that people everywhere are being attacked by '' strange creatures . ''

Question: "Who killed Joe and why do Layne Vassimer, Macy and their other friends clean up his house?"

OPTIONS:
- no
- yes

Answer: "His girlfriend"

Response: no

Meridian National Corp. said it sold 750,000 shares of its common stock to the McAlpine family interests, for $1 million, or $1.35 a share. The sale represents 10.2% of Meridian's shares outstanding. The McAlpine family, which operates a number of multinational companies, including a London-based engineering and construction company, also lent to Meridian National $500,000. That amount is convertible into shares of Meridian common stock at $2 a share during its one-year term. The loan may be extended by the McAlpine group for an additional year with an increase in the conversion price to $2.50 a share. The sale of shares to the McAlpine family along with the recent sale of 750,000 shares of Meridian stock to Haden MacLellan Holding PLC of Surrey, England and a recent public offering have increased Meridian's net worth to $8.5 million, said William Feniger, chief executive officer of Toledo, Ohio-based Meridian.

Question: "How many total shares of stock has Meridian sold to two companies recently?"

OPTIONS:
- no
- yes

Answer: "5 milliion"

Response: no

Life for the partners of Cates, Katalinic & Lund holds little of the glamour one might expect from a career in law. Instead of lunches at Lutce, they caucus at the Palace Diner in Queens. Wooing clients means passing out fliers on street corners, not securing box seats at Madison Square Garden. To make ends meet, one partner stacks pipe and cleans the yard at a plumbing warehouse. Another handles urine samples in a hospital lab. A sign of failure, of a feeble economy, perhaps? Hardly. They are heeding the call of a growing pool of law schools, which are for the first time pointing graduates in a new direction and teaching them how to get there. Forget the lure of large firms, the security of a government post. Here is how to grapple "in the service of justice," as many of the schools put it, instead. Convinced that corporate largess and government programs barely dent the nation's legal needs, the law schools are urging graduates to buck tradition, pass up big salaries and ignore mushrooming student debt to join tiny neighborhood practices or simply start their own, all with an eye toward charging no more than their clients can afford. This is not pro bono legal work; it is "low bono," a term the schools coined to define the atypical kind of law career they are training students for. While its practitioners do charge for their services, they are also dead set on turning no one away - or at least as few as possible. "When you go into this kind of social justice law, it's really brutal and you're almost guaranteed to struggle for a couple of years before there's a light at the end of the tunnel," said Fred Rooney, director of the Community Legal Resource Network at City University of New York School of Law, from which the lawyers of the newly formed Cates, Katalinic & Lund graduated last May. "But if our graduates don't do it, the millions of people who cannot access justice in this country will continue to soar." The movement, primly called the consortium, started four years ago by CUNY, Northeastern University, the University of Maryland and St. Mary's Law School in Texas. (St. Mary's later dropped out.) Since then, it has drawn seven additional law schools to its ranks: the University of Michigan, Rutgers and Syracuse Law Schools, New York Law School, University of New Mexico School of Law, Thomas M. Cooley Law School and Touro Law School. It has elicited at least initial interest from 19 more.

Question: "What was the first educational institution in Texas to leave "The consortium" of schools?"

OPTIONS:
- no
- yes

Answer: "St. Mary's Law School"

Response:
yes