Kill Them Wherever You Find Them

by David Hunter

  ~ ~ ~

  Young men and women who immigrate to Israel without family and then serve in the military are referred to as "Lone Soldiers." For them service is more difficult without family to go home to on days off, especially for the holidays. Because of this there are families throughout the country who "adopt" these Lone Soldiers.

  No'am was fortunate to have been taken into the home of a family who was always happy to do his laundry, make home-cooked meals and insist he eat until he could eat no more. Whenever he had time off they never failed to include him as one of their own during holidays and family vacations.

  The day he was promoted to an officer's rank his adopted family was proudly seated in the audience for the ceremony. After the induction his soldier-adopted father proudly gave him a gift of a small service pistol that he had used some decades ago when he was a soldier. No'am kept this pistol in his desk drawer. Not one who ever used so much as an aspirin, he realized he didn't have a razor blade either. Loading a bullet in the chamber and snapping it into place, he put the barrel of the pistol in his mouth – withdrawing it again.

  One often hears people say that taking one's own life is a "coward's way out." No'am sometimes wondered about this, thinking that it would require a great deal of courage to commit suicide, for any reason. The instinct to survive is so strong, a primitive instinct that pretty much trumps all other instincts except the maternal instinct.

  Not believing in any form of life-after-death other than one's memory which others would carry in their hearts, he was sad to end this life, to snuff it out so completely.

  He thought back to his childhood. As difficult as it had been, taunted by children while adults avoided him, No'am at least had loving parents who would do anything for him.

  He remembered his birthday vacation trips. Not wealthy by the standards of most first-world countries, his parents were nonetheless sufficiently well off by Argentine standards of the day. Most trips consisted of travels to la Pampa, camping trips, a three-day-long adventure to the city of Córdoba and back. Everything in-country. One year that changed with a trip to help him take pride in his people and history by going to the State of Israel. He had never seen so many Jews in his life! It was exciting, giving him a sense of belonging more than at any time in his life outside of his family. No'am didn't understand a word of Hebrew, Arabic, Russian or English – the most common languages heard then, and now. Language barrier notwithstanding he instantly understood and fell in love with the people, the cultures, and the very idea of a country where Jews could be openly Jewish, proudly, without fear. In his own town, even Argentina as a whole, anti-Semitism was just a fact of life.

  As soon as he was old enough he registered for a program that paid the travel and living expenses for young Jews to visit Israel and immerse in the country with tours and more.

  The program, Taglit Birthright Israel, accepted him and within the year of registration he found himself again in Israel, with other young Jews from a number of countries joining him. No'am knew he was home.

  Three years later, bidding farewell to a sobbing mother and stoic but trembling father at the Ministro Pistarini International Airport of Buenos Aires, he "made aliya," immigrating to Israel.

  The first few heady months No'am lived in an Absorption Center where he learned modern Hebrew in an Ulpan class with other immigrants. At the center, they learned daily living skills, such as how the Israeli medical system worked, bus routes, finding employment, preparing for National Service – in other words serving in the military – for those young enough to enlist, and much more.

  No'am had already applied to Technion University before leaving Argentina and was accepted pending a good understanding of spoken Hebrew. Though just nineteen years of age, he had already attained a year's worth of university studies in Argentina in Math. A "shoe in" anywhere he wanted to go, he received a scholarship at Technion, the M.I.T. of Israel.

  Introduced to a few disciplines of physics while still in Argentina, decidedly leaning in that direction scholastically, he learned of exciting advances in the field of Quantum Physics at Technion. It wasn't long before he had his first doctorate, then headed into military service. He told people that due to his physical limitations he was given a desk job. This was true, but it covered a greater and more interesting truth.

  No'am was tapped by the military to work on advanced projects in Quantum Mechanics for practical use such as quantum encoding for ultra-sensitive government documents. He was there a witness to exciting developments utilizing Quantum Entanglement. No'am flourished. He missed his three friends back in Argentina but found another friend in the laboratories devoted to the infinitely tiny, yet universally pervasive, quantum universe.

  Once his two years of National Service with the military were completed he took some time off to walk around his new country. Gifted in languages, including the language of mathematics, he studied Arabic as a way to relax. Though many Argentines were fair skinned, he was without question of true Latin genetics. This allowed him to easily blend in with the Arab population without raising any eyebrows.

  In his backpack he hoisted several books on physics and his laptop with which he kept in contact with Quantum Mechanics researchers. Two of the books in the backpack were in Hebrew, one Spanish, one English, and two German. While in Judea and Samaria - the two territories of the Palestinians, he refused to refer to the contested territories as the West Bank and Gaza - he felt it best that nobody see his books, certainly not the two in Hebrew.

  He moved easily through the cities, shooks, and neighborhoods of Palestinian-controlled areas. He came to genuinely like the people who were generally good, generous, and kind. Most just tried to live their lives and let others live as they chose. No'am was pleased to learn that the radical elements such as the Hamas were not representative of the majority of the people. He wished these people could live in a true and lasting peace with his own people but realistically understood that as long as there were militant-minded extremists on both sides, peace wasn't possible.

  He walked and hitchhiked north to the Saba Farms near Lebanon, then on to the Golan Heights taken from Syria as a defensive measure during the war of 1967. The Israeli side of the Golan Heights was now used as listening posts and early radar warning systems.

  He then went south wandering the Negev Desert areas, where a drought throughout Israel really hit hard, doubling the price of water. Flower gardens in many yards had shriveled under the weight of the water bills, though it was still less expensive to grow vegetables than to buy them, unless gardening wasn't your forte to begin with.

  No'am returned north to see the holy shrines and beautiful terraced gardens of the headquarters of the Bahá’í faith. He greatly admired the Bahá’í people, acutely aware of their persecution and outright murder by both the government and mobs in Iran, where the faith was born.

  Next he traveled to Tel Aviv, a very modern and beautiful city – easily the most secular population in the country, at least by the standards of Judaism. Here he met with some professors of Bar-Illan University to compare notes and enjoy the sidewalk cafés of the city that were to be found everywhere. The weather was always, it seemed, perfectly beautiful in Tel Aviv.

  From Tel Aviv, he returned to Jerusalem, where he took up residence near the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, campus of Mount Scopus. From here he could see the wall that separated parts of the Palestinian territories from the State of Israel.

  Whatever one may think of the Israeli "Separation Wall" it could not be denied that the wall had brought terror attacks down over 90%. The downside was now rockets were being fired into Israel by the thousands.

  It was during these travels that he met Mona, also traveling around the country. "Mona . . . oh, Mona." Tears welled up in his eyes again. Returning the pistol to his mouth, No'am pulled the trigger.

  No muffler, the sound thundered around the room, alerting people nearby. The Shin Bet operative for No'am was the first in the room. Taking in the
situation the operative deftly removed the blood-spattered memo from the desk as others entered. The agent flashed a police badge and ordered everybody out. Exiting the room and locking it, he called the Shin Bet chief directly.

  As he began talking the operative felt a sharp sting in his back. Sinking to the ground, he saw a woman quickly walk away as she put what appeared to be a hypodermic in her purse.

  Table of Contents

  20. Who Forces Time

  "Who forces time is pushed back by time; who yields to time finds time on his side." - Talmud

  Broomfield, Colorado, United States of America

  Jeff was happy to get back home to his family. He tried to explain his wounded leg and still-bruised eye as a simple accident to his wife. She didn't believe it for a second; he knew that she wouldn't. She didn't press too strenuously for additional details which was just as well since Jeff wasn't about to offer any lest he be forced to lie, again, to her.

  Three weeks later he was still looking for an opening to introduce the subject of the family moving to Israel.

  He had seen battle as a soldier, had seen comrades just inches away shot, gone in a second. On one occasion, his squad was cornered in a trap set in the narrow roads of a village, with both entry and exit being cut off by hostiles. Personally familiar with life-threatening events that could chill the heart and weaken resolve of even the bravest, for some reason his wife loomed in his thoughts as the one person he dared never, ever, ever cross.

  Jeff never heard Lynn raise her voice or let emotion cloud her judgment. Never a harsh or condemning word had passed her lips. But she did have a look, usually reserved for misbehaving children, which would freeze you in your tracks. Only once had such a look been pointed in his direction. He felt that he'd rather be looking into the barrel of a sniper's rifle. At least in that event, he could defend himself. Not so with his wife whose look of disapproval would melt the resolve of a hardened soldier with just a glance.

  Jeff also knew that it would be difficult for Brian and Samantha, leaving friends and the American lifestyle typical of teenagers. That, in and of itself, was a verbal battle Jeff wasn't eager to face. For Lynn it would be much more difficult; leaving her siblings, a foreign language, everything would be difficult for her. It's so much easier for children to adapt than for adults who have already established their lives.

  Time was slipping away. In less than two weeks, Jeff had to be back in Israel to begin training and preparations for the second and final phase of The Project. It was critical to the mission, as much for Jeff as other considerations, valid as they were, for Lynn and their children to join him. Time was running out and there never seemed to be an appropriate opening.

  Frustrated and anxious, after dinner when the children had left the dining room, he just blurted out, "I need to work in the State of Israel for the next several months and I want you and the children to go with me."

  Absolutely stunned at her response, Lynn indicated that with the school year just ended, she thought it to be a fantastic idea. "Really?" Jeff reacted in stunned amazement. At that moment, a feather could have knocked him over!

  "Why not? We all miss you so much when you're away for so long. These absences impact our family more than you may realize."

  Jeff turned red, not from anger but from embarrassment at his deceptions designed to lead them to believe he was on business in Europe all these many months past – with the exception of one trip home.

  "I have to say, this isn't the response I had expected."

  "Well, summer can be so long and with you away it's just difficult to plan trips or anything. Our last major vacation was the road trip back east to Boston, with stops along the way to see sites of historic note. I think it would be good for the children to experience the Holy Land itself."

  Jeff didn't know what to expect but certainly this excitement in Lynn came as a welcome relief.

  "I'm glad, if not still just a little surprised, that you feel this way. My work may actually take longer than three months. I guess we'll cross that bridge if and when we get to it."

  "Well, that's good to know, I'll pack a few more things. I don't like these long separations. If your work does take longer than three months, surely there's an American school that our children can attend?"

  "I'm sure there must be but, if not, they would have the choice to go to a regular school if one can be found that teaches in English, or we could hire tutors."

  "Honey, before I forget to let you know, the Israeli government will be paying for all of our expenses, including living quarters. They will make the arrangements for our travel and a place to live."

  "Seriously? I knew computer programming paid well but what kind of program are you writing that has such benefits?"

  "Believe me, it's a very important program – I wish I could tell you but . . ."

  "I know, confidentiality agreements. It's okay. I would never want you to divulge something that you shouldn't. I have no doubt but that you will give them more than their money's worth. I'm glad to see you're staying fit during these long absences. I hate to think of you eating fast foods and letting your health go."

  "You know me, exercise is more enjoyable than chocolate!"

  "Well, just don't expect me to feel quite that way."

  "So honey, how do we break the news to the kids?"

  "I'll take care of that. I could tell over the last couple of days that you were mustering the courage to ask me something important. It's been very amusing really. I won't put you through that again."

  Lynn never ceased to amaze him. He knew he could not reveal that he did more than work as a computer programmer. Still, it was difficult to not be able to be candid with her. Jeff also knew that the less they knew, the safer his wife and children would be. In the end this is what ultimately mattered. Jeff was certain that they would be much safer in Israel where their movements could be more carefully planned and safeguarded, than here in Colorado.

  The following Sunday, Jeff was surprised to see Moshe take a chair next to him after the Priesthood Meeting ended – the last of the three worship services of the day for Jeff.

  "Shalom Jeff." Moshe spoke. "We received the good news that your family will be joining us next week. This is very good indeed. Kol hakavod." Moshe ended with the Hebrew phrase for "good job."

  "Moshe! What on earth are you doing here?" Jeff was at once delighted, surprised, and a little suspicious.

  "Well, I'm here to let you know we have to step up the final phase of The Project. There are several strong indicators that the terrorists are working feverishly to advance their target date nearly a month earlier than originally scheduled. We need to be three steps ahead of them."

  "What do you need from me?"

  "I need to have you return to Israel with me, tonight."

  "Tonight? Lynn and I are still working on getting the family ready to leave. She's capable of seeing to the preparations herself, but I was hoping to go with them. Rachael suggested also that I tell Lynn what I really do, for my country as well as now for yours. I thought I should do this before she starts packing, having already eased her into the idea of going to Israel. I could tell her without going into details."

  "I'm sorry my friend, this just can't be helped. I know it will be awkward and Lynn may feel as if she has been duped into going to Israel if you tell of your real job description after she arrives. I think it will be easier on her there, once she is already in Israel. If she can't deal with what you have to tell her, we will be fully prepared to maintain security on your family here in Colorado, as we have to this point. How and when, or even if you tell her is your call."

  "My office is working to facilitate everything for your family, including a nice flat in Jerusalem and a little beach-front getaway in Tel Aviv. Schools have also been taken care of. Brian has already been registered with a college that has several majors available in the English language. Sami will attend an American school in Jerusalem for her senior year of high school. They
will be fine; Lynn too. Even if they don't choose to immerse into our society, they will still have contact with plenty of English speakers as well as the Mormon community in Jerusalem. Everything is ready and awaiting your family's arrival."

  "Thank you, Moshe. We received the airline tickets Friday morning, along with pictures of both places. Lynn and the children are very excited. I think it best to find a time and place to break the news of the realities of my work before leaving."

  "As you wish. Our jet takes off tonight at 21:00 hours from Buckley Air Force Base. Please arrive fifteen minutes earlier; you already have clearance at the security gate and on the base itself. Here is your ID badge."

  "L'hetraote." Until later, Moshe bid Jeff farewell.

  "L'hetraote, Moshe."

  Taking his leave Moshe, who for the first time since Jeff met him, wore a white shirt and tie and seemed to blend in with the crowd and then melt from view altogether. On the heels of Moshe's disappearing act Jeff walked to the back of the meetinghouse to find his wife and later meet up with his children, somewhere in the building with their own group of friends.

  The "Primary Room" is the main room of the building where young children were taught lessons from the scriptures and learned to sing the children's songs of the Latter-day Saints. Though different in some ways, Jeff likened Primary to the Roman Catholic Catechism classes of his own childhood.

  Mrs. Kiever, an elderly woman who taught him one year of Catechism as a child, was dear to his heart. Her love for both her faith and the children she taught had a life-long impact on him. Jeff attended the small class nearly every Saturday of the third grade. Already hoping to become a Catholic Priest one day, Mrs. Kiever's teachings inspired him.

  He remembered once being in the little park across the street from the parochial school, St. Patricia's, where the weekly classes were taught for those not old enough yet to attend that school. One of his parents would pick him up at the park to return home. That particular day in the park Jeff found a fallen bird nest with a few dead baby birds still in it. Mrs. Kiever must have seen him and walked unsteadily across the street to comfort the young boy. Her thin arms, now with aged and wrinkled skin barely clinging to the bones, wrapped around him. Her words of consolation, spoken in the quiet and unhurried manner acquired by most who attained such advanced years, soothed and comforted him.

  While Jeff could no longer recall the words she spoke, he would never forget their impact and would, over the years, honor the memory of this sweet and unassuming woman. If Mrs. Kiever didn't make it to heaven, Jeff knew he had no hope.

  Lynn was the Primary teacher over the ten-year-old children of the congregation. Jeff had taught the same age group a few years back, and he knew how tough and demanding they could be. There were times he compared it to the rigors of boot camp, more than once thinking that boot camp was less demanding! He loved that calling, the Mormon word used for all teaching and local administrative positions.

  Lynn really enjoyed her calling as a Primary teacher, seeming to connect with the hearts and minds of her ten year old students. Jeff knew she was going to really miss this.

  The final prayer to close Primary was offered by one of the children and then the classes were dismissed. A few lingered to hear the joke that Brother Stauffenberg always had for them. Once high fives and jokes had been dispensed the remaining children dispersed to find their parents.

  The drive home from the meetinghouse was pleasant, especially with Lynn doing the driving. Jeff felt that he was an excellent driver, even if nobody else shared this optimistic self-assessment. It simply was a given that Lynn was the driver when they were together.

  Pulling into the driveway, Jeff causally mentioned that he had to leave this evening to go back to Israel. Lynn, accustomed to sudden schedule changes associated with his job, took it in stride. Besides, pretty much everything was packed and ready to go. Only the bare necessities that they required for day-to-day living until their own time of departure remained unpacked.

  After an early dinner, Jeff suggested that he and Lynn go for a drive. Reaching their destination, a park they sometimes went to just to get away for a while, they got out of the car, heading to their favorite bench under an aspen tree. Lynn, sensing something more than merely a getaway was on his mind, sat enjoying the beautiful view to give her husband time to verbalize his thoughts.

  "Regarding our temporary move to Israel, there are a couple of more things that you should know. Things I should have told you sooner, and now with me leaving tonight there just is no good time or way . . ."

  "Probably best, honey, to just spit it out then."

  "Right, well, I'm not exactly a computer programmer."

  "Really, Jeff, I never 100% believed that you were. So, what do you do? Don't tell me assassin, a computer programmer is more believable."

  "Assassin is such a harsh word. Can we just say that I'm a good guy who sometimes has to kill bad guys to get the job done?"

  Lynn laughed, waiting for the punch line of the joke. When Jeff simply looked at her, almost pleading but also with resolve, her laughter subsided, stopping altogether.

  "So, all these years, all this time away from your family . . ."

  "It was a job, just like programming is a job. I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you; until now I couldn't be."

  "What makes now any different?"

  "My work for the State of Israel – part of it known to our own government, though admittedly very little – has become more complicated, due to recent events."

  "Just come out with it."

  "Our temporary trip to Israel is going to be somewhat more extended."

  Where the initial conversation about going to Israel for a few months went so much better than Jeff could have hoped, this confession and ensuing discussion quickly went from awkward, to bad, to disastrous.

  Lynn experienced different emotions within a few short minutes: amusement, surprise, shock, finally ending with anger. Getting up abruptly she tossed the car keys to Jeff telling him to take her home. He did so without another word spoken between them the entire tense trip back to their house.

  Arriving home Jeff pulled into the driveway. Lynn got out of the car, slamming the door with a ferocity Jeff had never seen before though he had been on the receiving end of her anger with him in the past. Storming into their house she slammed that door closed too. Wisely, he remained in the car for a while. His teenage children seeing the state their mom was in went quietly to their rooms.

  At length the time arrived for him to pack a few things and take off for the airport. Thankfully Moshe was sending somebody to pick him up. Lynn avoided him, knowing that if she acknowledged his presence she might start throwing breakables at him.

  Jeff hoped that they could come to terms before he had to leave, not knowing if he would see his family in Israel soon, in Colorado months from now, or perhaps not ever again.

  Lynn never before reacted to anything as strongly as this. It came as no surprise to him. Jeff acknowledged to himself that he confronted her with two revelations she had not expected: He had killed since his time at war in Iraq, and they would likely be in Israel much longer than he had initially let on. Yes, these two items were certainly more than just the standard problems any couple would ever have to deal with.

  Jeff heard Lynn quietly crying in the basement office. He wanted to go downstairs and hold her, tell her everything was going to be okay but he knew that might prove to be a lie, another lie in a string of lies. He just couldn't bring himself to face her again.

  Before leaving he quietly knocked on the bedroom doors of his children, hugging each of them in turn and expressing his love for them. They mumbled something in return, tension hanging heavily throughout the home.

  A knock on the front door to the house alerted Jeff to the arrival of his ride to the air force base. Going down the stairs of the split level home, he picked up his two suitcases and headed out the door, having left a note of apology and love to his wife on the kitche
n table.

  Just as he was about to get in the waiting car he heard Lynn shouting, "Wait, get back here, I'm not through with you."

  Heart sinking but knowing he had to go back and take whatever verbal thrashing in store, Jeff went to the porch where Lynn was standing. Realizing he was under pressure for time, he didn't walk as slowly as he would have liked. Approaching the small porch, Lynn stepped off and met him half way on the lawn.

  Putting her arms around his waist she kissed him and quietly said, "We're in this together. We'll figure a way to work it all out. Just know that you own me in a big way. From now until we die, then into the eternities, I expect you to always give me my way on everything, is that perfectly understood mister?"

  "Yes ma'am!" Jeff returned her kiss, hugged her, then forced himself to let go and return to the car.

  "It sounds like you dodged a bullet there buddy."

  "You'll never know!" The driver, though, in fact did know. He was one of the nine Mossad agents tasked to watch over Mrs. Stauffenberg and her children – Jeff too when he was in Colorado. His report to Jerusalem would arrive and be analyzed long before Moshe and Jeff were due to touch down.

  Table of Contents

  21. Time to Do It Right

  "If you don't have time to do it right, when will you have time to do it over?" - John Wooden

  Los Angeles, California, United States of America

  Dr. Bruce Honegger, head of the Center for Disease Control, continued to amass information and coordinate his team's findings with other local, state, and federal government agencies. He maintained an open line with his own CDC offices in Atlanta as well as the World Health Organization.

  For nearly five days Bruce had been surviving on a steady diet of coffee and sandwiches. One of the soldiers on site joked with the other soldier guarding the elevators that the good doctor should just opt for a coffee I.V. drip. Bruce, blessed with excellent hearing, overheard the comment as he was walking back into the conference-room-turned-laboratory with probably his tenth cup of coffee that day. Eyes darkened with lack of sleep he thought to himself that a coffee I.V. would actually have been welcome.

  He planned on being in L.A. for just a couple of days, three at the most. Three stretched into five days, the science team finally making real progress. Entering the apartment complex was like living a nightmare that only the incredibly creative mind of Steven King himself could have conjured.

  Bloated bodies, covered with flies and maggots were in most apartments and some hallways. The bodies of a young couple were on the stairwell. Anthrax and Ebola had both been identified in a double-chambered vial next to the body of a little girl on the sixth floor. The chamber of Anthrax had been broken, releasing it into the air. The Ebola chamber was still intact. It was confirmed that the strains of each had been genetically manipulated into far deadlier forms than their original states, which were incredibly deadly in their own right. The who, why, and how had yet to be determined – questions for which only the how applied to Dr. Honegger and his team.

  A thermal cleaning of bodies and building had been ordered with several blocks around evacuated as a containment precaution. The airspace over the neighborhood was being enforced as a no-fly zone. There would be no packing of instruments once they had completed their medical assessments as these would also be thermally destroyed to avoid even the slightest risk of contaminants escaping into the population. It was a miracle that the devastation had not gone beyond the building. Had the emergency not been identified, with the apartment building sealed off as quickly as it had been, the mortality rate would have multiplied significantly.

  One more day, then home. Bruce was exhausted while at the same time exhilarated by the chance to do genuine field work again. Considering the cost in life and treasure that this event had exacted, he felt almost ashamed to admit to himself how fascinating the case was.

  The CDC and WHO had received samples of both diseases for independent testing and verification. The virulence of the Ebola strain was the worst either had seen. The only good news was that it appeared to burn out after a second host of rats and monkeys were used for testing. Most likely it would be the same for humans. Anthrax, on the other hand, can survive centuries in the soil. Once again exposed to a human it would prove as deadly and virulent as the day it was buried.

  The original source of the strains couldn't be traced initially, though it was believed they were based on strains being researched in Russia years ago.

  The military and FBI, working with the CIA, were able to trace the identities and backgrounds of the people in every apartment but one. The family that once lived in apartment 6-A were in the United States on forged documents with false backgrounds. The forgeries, though detected, were brilliantly executed to the point where they initially fooled even an FBI expert. It was clear that significant money and organizational power were behind what had happened here.

  Though not his area, curiosity about the potential cause kept Bruce's ears alert to conversations among the FBI and CIA agents. It was believed the family in 6-A might have been Chechen, but that remained to be confirmed. There were a few ethnic Chechen families in the building though no link from them to any extremist movements, Muslim, anti-Russian, or otherwise, could be found.

  The double-chambered broken vial was found next to one of the children near the stairway. Photographs of her with her family in 6-A provided the first solid clue.

  Initially there was no way to find a connection between her family and the tragedy until their documentation was proved a forgery. How she was able to even get her hands on the vial remained a mystery but that it actually did belong to one, or both, of her parents was by now certain with a fingerprint match from the vial to her mother.

  Her mother, listed as Milana Nuradilov on her university identification badge, was documented as a student at a local university. The university confirmed that she was not, in fact, a student.

  Milana appeared to be in her early thirties. Her pelvic bone showed that she had given birth, these probably were her real children and husband or boyfriend. A further search showed that she worked at a kosher restaurant in the city, employed there for just over two months. She was a good employee, always cheerful and on time to work her scheduled hours. The latter being a trait her employer, Yannik Abromovitz, valued highly.

  Mr. Abromovitz was deeply upset when he learned about Milana, and the circumstances surrounding her death. Shown a photo of the little girl, he burst into tears. Two weeks prior, he gave her a toy for her birthday and sent over a surprise birthday cake when he realized that her mom worked the entire day of the little girl's birthday.

  Before hiring Milana he dutifully checked her Green Card to confirm she could be gainfully employed while in the country.

  He had never met the husband. He confirmed that they were, indeed, married and said Milana seemed to have a genuinely happy home life. He had never seen her upset. She was always well groomed and her uniform always clean and pressed. There was no evidence of recreational drug use; as a matter of fact, Milana didn't even drink alcohol or smoke. Milana was, according to Mr. Abromovitz, Jewish - but not religious. He could confirm that she spoke of family in Chechnya and spoke halting English with a Chechen accent.

  An FBI agent, notably a woman and possibly a mother herself, questioned how a child could have access to something so devastatingly lethal – how could her parents put it in a place where she could reach it? Honegger realized that was one question that may never be resolved, one he was happy to leave to others to puzzle out. At least biomedical science could give him precise answers to his own investigation.

  Honegger wondered if there were other such vials in Los Angeles and if he was even safe at the hotel where he was staying. Bodyguards were assigned to each member of his team at all times. How can a bodyguard, when he is in his hotel room without the benefit of a bio hazard suit, protect him from two of the smallest of enemies known in the history of humankind? Setting this thought aside befor
e it escalated into all-out fear, Bruce busied himself with the work at-hand.

  "Dr. Honegger, I'm sorry to interrupt you. I thought you'd want to be informed right away."

  "What is it, Dr. Simons?"

  "The World Health Organization has traced the genetic fingerprint of both the Ebola and Anthrax strains to what the CIA and MI6 believe was a secret Level Four bio hazard laboratory just outside of Moscow which was believed to have been decommissioned shortly after the fall of the Soviet Union. The CDC has confirmed this as the most likely origin."

  "Thank you, Dr. Simons."

  Dr. Honegger knew that the fall of the Soviet Union resulted in a "brain drain" throughout the former union. Research scientists lost funding for their work and employment forcing them to look to other sources, not always legal, for money.

  Lack of money created another crisis: A black market emerged when laboratories and bio radiology storage facilities had to be closed for lack of funding or a dearth of scientific and governmental oversight, usually both.

  The two main hubs of research, Russia and the Ukraine, saw deadly biological strains that had been developed as weapons, as well as radioactive materials, flow into the hands of other governments and terror organizations, whoever was willing to pay the most. The Russian and Ukrainian underworlds grew fat and rich while the general population sank into even deeper poverty and hunger. All the while terror-sponsoring nations and groups were able to obtain previously undreamed-of weapons that could fit into a suitcase, or even a small vial.

  The demise of the Soviet enemy of the west gave spectacular rise, almost overnight, to what Honegger's brother David coined the Red Crescent enemy. While the Soviet Union was a threat, mostly to Europe and the Americas, the militant Islamic extremists were a threat to all nations, especially those nations with a Muslim majority population. This latter enemy rose to global prominence in international affairs seemingly overnight.

  As with other standing armies, the Red Army could generally be easily identified, for the most part playing by internationally accepted rules of war, both overt and covert. Terror groups, on the other hand, typically hide among common people without uniform or insignia; acknowledging no rule of war. To them, innocent children on the "other side" were every bit as guilty as the soldiers of enemy countries.

  Some of the terror groups turn on one another with loyalties shifting to whichever group is strongest and ideologically most similar. Each group vying for moral, physical, and financial support of larger groups, as well as governments that sponsor terrorism, to further their own agendas. Alliances are easily formed and then breached, with new groups forming from the disenfranchised – or often simply the more violent elements – of the older, established groups. The PLO terror group was spun off Fatah, then Hamas, which was really more a creation of the Muslim Brotherhood. Groups like these were but shadows of what was to come. Other countries, such as the Philippines and Malaysia, had their own examples.

  In the United States, as the KKK fell out of political favor, it spun off a number of extremist movements including several white supremacy and neo-nazi groups. Every country, without exception, had no shortage of dangerous lunatics. Most of them starting as religious zealots of just about every major faith and denomination in the so-called civilized world - teaching extremism, spewing unbridled hatred for those not of their religious views or ethnic identity, then letting their radicalized followers loose on an unsuspecting public.

  While racism and sexism still existed in the United States – everywhere around the world, sadly - it was ever so slowly giving way to an equality informed by enlightened education.

  He then thought of the Muslim faith. An avowed Atheist himself, Bruce really admired the Muslims he personally knew in the United States and abroad. He found it to be a good religion filled with many exceptional and benevolent people. He felt it profoundly unfortunate that the militant Islamic terrorists, emboldened and strengthened by politicized Islamic groups and governments, made it seem to people unfamiliar with Islam, that all Muslims are evil and want to dominate the world.

  Islam is a great and valid world religion, having given us so much – including the basis of math, geometry, and astronomy. Additionally, so many Muslims risked their lives to hide and feed Jews during the Nazi Holocaust. There are Muslims today who risk life and limb to fight with the State of Israel against those who would destroy her.

  What a shame to see the damage a handful of radicals has done to the name and reputation of the vast majority of Muslim people around the world, who would make good neighbors. The irony of it all is that the Holy Qu'ran is the only book of scriptures among all religions of note that never once mentions a single weapon of war.

  "Time to return my focus to these smallest weapons of war." Bruce murmured to himself, lack of sleep catching up to him. He realized his stream of thoughts had been drifting, something totally out-of-character when adequate rest allowed full concentration. He returned to his room for a little long-overdue sleep, accepting that if he allowed fatigue to introduce mistakes in his and his team's vital work here, he wouldn't have a chance to get it right.

  Table of Contents

  22. A Life Spent

  "Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you." - Carl Sandburg

  Tzahal General Staff Offices, Jerusalem, Israel

  Avi was traumatized to the very center of his being. As soon as he was able to gather his thoughts and hold his emotions in check, he reached the conclusion that he had to turn himself in, face whatever fate was his.

  The next several hours he spent at his computer, detailing events – times, places, conversations with Mona over the last several years as best he could. The next morning he drove to his office moving as one in a trance. He was aware of the road and traffic, the pedestrians on the sidewalk, the sights and smells so familiar to him; yet none of the familiarity of his surroundings provided any consolation for what lay ahead.

  Stepping out of the elevator to the top floor of the military's General Staff building, he forced his legs toward the office of the Shin Bet liaison assigned to the General Staff. Walking past General Ashkelon's office, he noticed two unfamiliar faces seated at the small conference table near the far corner of the General's office. Just moments after walking past, the door to the General's office closed.

  Nobody was at their desk in the main area. The Shin Bet liaison was in his office. Based on his tired appearance and slightly rumpled clothing, Avi guessed he had been here for quite some time already, though it was just the beginning of the workday. He thought the liaison officer must have had a plush job as he always appeared so relaxed and easy-going. This morning, however; he looked tense and exhausted.

  Approaching him, the man appeared to tense even more. Avi pulled a chair to his desk and gave him a sheaf of papers.

  "What's this?" Cohen inquired, appearing not to really need a response. "Sir it is a signed report, actually a confession, that I wish to turn over to you. This report details the fact that I have been providing an unknown enemy, though I'm fairly certain Iranian, strategic details about The Project – specifically its military applications. I have an identical copy, also signed as is the document I gave you, for General Ashkelon. There will be a full investigation, no doubt, but I felt it best that your people, as well as the General, have a basic groundwork on which to build for the sake of expediency."

  As the officer glanced at the document the General's office door opened and a woman pointed at Avi, Cohen's office being directly across the hall, motioning him in.

  With every fiber of his being, he wanted to return home, go to bed, awaken the next morning to find that this was all nothing more than a prolonged nightmare. Steeling himself he entered the General's office. It was telling that the General wouldn't initially even look at him. The room was heavy with an oppressive silence as he entered. In contrast to the General's avoida
nce the woman observed him with tangible disdain. Her associate was less discernible with an absolutely neutral gaze; he'd make a formidable opponent at a poker table.

  General Ashkelon broke the uncomfortable silence.

  "Avi, I must inform you that you have been stripped of rank and position. You are no longer a soldier, being considered a traitor and an enemy of the state. Is this understood?"

  "Yes sir, I fully understand." He was taken aback at the events transpiring already; he had hoped to come clean in his own time and way, controlling the situation as much as was possible.

  "Good. As a civilian you can't have representation by a lawyer of the Tzahal but you are entitled to a lawyer, something I would strongly encourage. You will face a military tribunal down the road, but for now you may call a civilian lawyer of your choosing – if you can't afford one a lawyer will be appointed by the state to represent you. Do you understand your rights?"

  "I do sir."

  "Do you wish to have a lawyer before we continue?"

  "No sir, in fact the reason I came in . . ."

  "Mr. Ben-Levi, I'm Menachem Schalit with security services." Avi extended his hand to shake Schalit's. Menachem made no move to reciprocate. Awkwardly, his hand returned to his side.

  The General abruptly stood up. Avi looked at him with the second deepest sadness he had felt in his life, the first being the torture of Mona. Tearing his shirt pocket, the sign that a loved one had died and he was in mourning, the General left his office without a word or so much as a glance in his direction.

  He flashed to a memory, years ago when he was visiting her mother with Shoshana and the General entered the office. Speaking with Shoshi's mom, then her, the General didn't acknowledge his presence. He remembered that first view of the General with melancholy, how differently that compared with this time. He wondered if the General would ever look at him again, even during his tribunal.

  Avi knew he would not see the General again, his friend, a man who was like his father, a man who gave him his fullest confidence and trust. This was, however; the last time the two would be in the same room. In less than a week, Lt. Gen. Dan Ashkelon would die from a massive heart attack. Ashkelon's wife, a person who was as much a mother to him as his own had been, would blame Avi's betrayal for her husband's death.

  "You know the charges facing you, there will likely be more in the future. My associate and I are not concerned with any legal technicalities or what laws may or may not have been broken at this juncture. We are here to assess what information has been passed to foreign operatives along with a corresponding timeline. We must document everything you have done with regards to the woman you knew as 'Mona.' Let's start . . . "

  "I brought a detailed report here if that . . ." Avi was cut short.

  "Don't ever interrupt me again. We know about your report, we already have it. You have been under constant surveillance and your computers monitored. Your phones, including that used to contact her, have also been under scrutiny. The government has issued an order freezing all of your assets here, and put in a diplomatic request to freeze your off-shore bank account wherein money was transferred to you from the United Arab Emirates."

  "Ben-Levi." The woman began with a continued look of contempt in her eyes and now voice, "We know of the Lt. General's affection for you and close personal and professional friendship that you have formed with him and General Aharonson during the course of The Project and your time here on the General Staff. It is out of deference to General Ashkelon that I did not bring this up in his presence. As of now you have no rights, you are considered a hostile, without access to legal counsel and will be detained without communication while we sort out this mess."

  "You are to say nothing about The Project to us or anybody else," Menachem continued, "beyond what is required to fully respond to our lines of inquiry. We have enough information to investigate your actions but are not privy to anything beyond your interaction with The Project as it relates to your former responsibilities here at the General Staff."

  "Let us begin, then, with how you met Mona. First, before starting, there is information you need to know to assure that you are completely open and honest with us. We have determined that she was . . ." Menachem saw his eyes flicker " an Iranian agent. We confirmed that she died from her injuries and was given a quiet, martyr's burial."

  Avi's mouth slackened upon hearing this. The news came to him as a double body slam, she worked for Iran and was now confirmed dead.

  "No, that's impossible. I don't believe you." The revelations about Mona were just too much to handle at once. Avi was now speaking in a barely audible whisper.

  "Believe it. We have no reason to be untruthful with you, Mr. Ben-Levi. No reason at all. In fact, your life as you know it, is forfeit. You will never be free to walk the streets, you are probably looking at the death sentence that the State holds as an option in the case of traitors. Full cooperation with us will go in your favor. The only way we can know that you are indeed cooperating completely and honestly is to provide you with incontrovertible proof that she was the diametric opposite of what you believed her to be. Tzipora, would you turn off the lights?"

  The office darkened, Menachem played a video of Mona – splices of various scenes, including her freely walking the streets of Tehran first in clothing he recognized, then covered in black garb, head-to-toe. While he could not testify he was 100% sure it was Mona completely covered, he was certain it had to be her; the way she moved as she walked, the form of her body, the pitch and timbre of her voice, and other little nuances, that the operative documenting the surveillance was able to capture and record.

  He could no longer hide a tremor in his hands, the shock in his countenance, as she hugged a woman also fully covered, then spoke with two men briefly before entering a non-descript building.

  There were several such scenes that appeared to cover about a year of surveillance that no longer focused on Mona so much as the woman and two men she always met. The focus shifted increasingly from Mona as the other three became the main subjects of surveillance.

  Photos of her being buried, taken apparently from a distance with a telescoping lens, were enough to convince him that he was duped, that she was running his life and faking her love for him from the very beginning.

  Avi's mind reverted to his first memory of her while he was at a club celebrating with friends. He remembered her entering the bar, finding a stool at the counter as every male turned to better see her. He recalled everything in an instant. A rising star in the ranks of the military even then, though not yet on the General Staff, he could never then have guessed himself a target of an enemy nation.

  "This is something of a shock to you, we understand." Tzipora broke into his thoughts. "Frankly Ben-Levi, we really don't give a damn how you feel. The only reason we are showing you this is so that you won't feel some foolish need to protect Mona and her family. Speaking of her family, there's something else you should know. Her parents are both alive and well, working a farm in northwestern Iran. The other woman you saw in some of the video segments is her sister. Her sister Balour was radicalized when they moved to the city, then Mona was lured into the terror group that Balour had earlier joined."

  Avi started to have a glassy-eyed look to him, as one might who has had such a mental shock that he begins to switch reality in favor of a fantasy world designed by his own psychological needs for mental/emotional self-preservation. On seeing this Tzipora was fearful that he could slip into a mental breakdown, closing himself off from them – something they could not allow, given the nature of the situation.

  Launching from her chair, Tzipora reached across the desk, slapping Avi hard. First shock, then a gradual mental return and recognition of the room and his indignant circumstance, registered on his face.

  Tzipora wanted to loosen a couple of Ben-Levi's teeth; it would have felt incredibly satisfying. She couldn't fathom how somebody in his position could be so foolish and act with such reckless abandon. T
he fact that he got away with it for so long stunned her, adding to her palpable revulsion of the traitor seated at the same table as she. Seeing the emotional roller coaster throwing him in one direction and then snapping him around to another helped to assuage her loathing, which she didn't even attempt to keep out of her voice as she spoke. An expert interrogator, she understood that she was walking a fine line between pushing him hard for information and throwing him over a mental precipice from which there would be no hope of return.

  "It's a game they play, you know. Using prisoners – political and religious dissidents – as conscripted actors. Whoever it was that you saw being tortured in the place of her mother and father, you now realize were innocent people, whose only crime was to say or believe something not sanctioned by the government. Mona is the only person in her family to have actually been tortured, and subsequently die."

  "Tzipora has laid out the background for you," continued Menachem "of the initial deception. We have a basic construct of how events went down but there is a great deal we don't know, and much we already know that requires verification. Mr. Ben-Levi, why don't you start from the beginning, how and where you met Mona."

  Avi noticed that Menachem addressed him formally and respectfully as "Mr. Ben-Levi" whereas Tzipora was blunt, employing an underlining malice in her voice and choice of words. Most interrogations would employ a method wherein one interrogator was openly hostile if not actually physically threatening. The other interrogator would be the opposite, sympathetic if not almost friendly, respectful, even helpful. He wondered if this was how things were to go during this first interrogation, or were these two actually being themselves as they really were.

  Tzipora seemed to be genuine in her hostility. Menachem, on the other hand, was more of a puzzle. Whichever the case, he knew that he had to divulge everything, not for the sake of his life but for the sake of his country. Nobody would ever believe him, so there was no point in protesting his loyalties, though he was a patriot and would do anything for his country.

  He would never mention to anybody that he believed himself patriotic. His actions and the incriminating money in his offshore bank account would combine to scream "Liar! Hypocrite!" Probably every incarcerated inmate protested their innocence to no avail. He would have been no different.

  "I believe everything in my report to the General and Shin Bet provides a broad outline and timeline. It was never intended to be conclusive; there is a great deal to fill in."

  "We are already well aware of that, Mr. Ben-Levi." Menachem again spoke. "While we know the minutia of your life, your movements, for the last year give-or-take, we will require every detail from the moment you met Mona. We need you to recall, as much as is humanly possible, every conversation – even those that might seem innocuous to you – and every scrap of information that you gave her, or her handlers." Though Menachem stated the obvious, in Avi's emotional and mental state even the obvious needed to be nailed down. "We understand you have a highly-trained and remarkable memory, recalling entire conversations verbatim."

  "Yes sir, that is correct. No . . . I just realized I left a vital detail out. Somebody else is providing them with details about The Project!"

  "Yes, Dr. No'am Abrams. He was the head of the facility spearheading the Quantum technology of The Project."

  He noted Tzipora's use of the word "was." He got to know No'am fairly well over the years when work would cross their paths. Highly intelligent but socially a little awkward, he feared that Dr. Abrams would not fare well in prison. A soldier, he knew that he faced the death penalty. Such would not be Abrams' fate. He wasn't sure which fate was worse.

  "The guards will be here shortly to escort you to prison where we will continue this interview this afternoon. There is one more fact, first, that you should know before we conclude."

  "What fact would that be ma'am?" In spite of himself, he could not keep from his voice his obvious dislike of this woman.

  "All these years that you were doing Mona, No'am was as well."

  The fact that she was actually working for Iran was the penultimate thread to unravel in the carefully weaved tapestry of Avi's life. Knowledge that she was using No'am, physically and emotionally, to garner information on The Project was the ultimate thread to not just unravel but to snap, sickening him to the point where he nearly vomited. If he had had anything to eat in the last twenty-four hours, he very well may have.

  Menachem wished Tzipora had not divulged this information, but she was the senior of the two, and he had learned to trust her instincts. Instincts that nearly always proved to be spot-on, solving mysteries whose resolutions defied some of the agency's top investigators. For this particular case the Prime Minster himself had asked that Tzipora be the lead. Menachem was grateful that she chose him as her second. Not only were there items of their craft that he was glad to learn from her, but this case would also propel his own career into the stratosphere if successful.

  By now, nearly everybody assigned to the floor arrived, huddled in small groups, speaking in low voices about what little they had guessed since the General had walked out, ashen-faced, without a word to anybody. A few vocally hoped that the Shin Bet officer would clue them in, disappointed that Cohen's door remained closed.

  Nobody could have guessed what would happen next.

  Two military police guards exited the elevator, each so large it was a wonder they both fit in at the same time. Turning to lock the single elevator with access to this top floor, then locking the stairwell completing the lockdown of the floor.

  Once in the main office area the men pulled their side arms free of their holsters, heading straight to the General's office without a word or so much as a glance at the assembled employees.

  The General's office door had previously only opened briefly once before, when he left – at that time nobody realizing exactly what was transpiring. The way he exited, though, tipped them off that something big was going down. Now the door was opened again but the bulk of the guards obscured any view into the office before being closed abruptly behind them.

  Noticeably shaken, staring blankly forward, Avi was escorted in chains out of the General's office. Twice he stumbled as the guards pressed him to walk faster than the shackles allowed.

  The assemblage couldn't help but stare. A few lips formed a silent question as they parted for the guards to take out a long admired, highly respected and trusted senior member of the Senior Staff. He was once referred to as the "Golden Boy" of the General Staff, a nickname that stuck, though nobody would have the chutzpah to say it to him directly.

  That he was a respected confidant to both Ashkelon and Aharonson would be an understatement. The effects of this surreal scene unfolding before them would have a significant impact on morale, and coffee room conjecture for some time to come.

  Unknown at the time, they would never see General Ashkelon again. He was a man all held in respect and even honor as fair leader, silently feared by a few. Neither Aharonson nor the Shin Bet officer ever once spoke about the events of the day. The staff members were informed, consequently, that measures to augment internal security were being put into operation. Each person would be required to undertake polygraphs and psych exams as conditions to retain their security clearances. Counter-espionage measures were also stepped-up.

  Whatever it was that he did, shadows of suspicion were now cast over everybody who worked in the building – though just a handful had any link whatsoever to The Project. Despite the fact that everybody was curious to know what he did to merit being escorted from the building in shackles, nobody was foolish enough to ask.

  Highly decorated over the years and promoted to the rank of Aluf, a General, Isabella Aharonson was raised to the rank of Rav-aluf, Chief of the General Staff, four days after receiving news of the passing of Lt. General Ashkelon. Deserving of this honor, she regretted the circumstances that led to her promotion, especially the death of her friend and predecessor. As did Ashkelon's wife, Isabella would blam
e Avi's betrayal – personal and professional – for the General's untimely death.

  Thinking of Ashkelon as a family member, he was very much a father figure to Shoshanna and a grandfather to her three grandchildren, Lt. General Aharonson donned the black armband of a person in mourning when she learned of Dan's passing, an armband she would wear for a full year.

  General Aharonson decided she would not move her belongings to Ashkelon's until the full year of mourning was complete. During this year of mourning and memory, Isabella wanted his office to remain as was, with the sole exception of removing Avi's picture and anything associated with him.