by D S Kane
Shula and her team loaded Jon into a boat. William and Avram jumped aboard. In seconds, they were all headed into the Gulf of Oman. Jon wondered, where is the boat going? And smiled as he understood. No math was necessary.
They must be headed toward the two stolen submarines.
Chapter Forty-Two
Mediterranean Sea,6 kilometers east of Crete
October 10, 12:14 a.m.
Almost three weeks later, the submarines entered the Mediterranean, settling off the coast of Crete.
When one of the subs surfaced, Avram, William, and Jon climbed the ladder up the conning tower and stood on the deck in a stiff breeze. William smiled as if this was the greatest adventure of his life. Jon thought, perhaps it is. For all of us.
Avram’s face remained a mask of sadness.
Jon felt somewhat distant, immersed in a world of his own, struggling to keep his attention on the real world and not his conflicted feelings about Lisa. He’d found it was possible to ignore her voice, but when at last he did, it faded away.
The sub’s commander jumped off the conning tower and joined them on the deck. “We can’t stay on the surface for more than a few minutes without being detected. Please hurry. Get in the motor-raft.”
They climbed down the side of the sub, dropping the last five feet into the raft. Within minutes they were speeding toward one of the island’s beaches. The ride was bumpy, but Jon felt little discomfort. My body is healing. As for my mind, well, not so bloody much.
Avram remained silent and moody as they called a taxi using a new burner cell phone the sub’s captain had given them. Tickets to Tel Aviv were waiting for them at the El Al ticket counter.
The plane ride from Crete to Tel Aviv was smooth. Jon spent the time in silence, thinking about what he’d say when Mother debriefed him. He wondered if the secrets he held had any power.
Avram sat in the seat next to him. He faced Jon. “I can’t believe you hit him three times, and he’s not dead.”
Jon frowned. “Yeah. Anyway, well, I’m just not sure, is all. He might have escaped the souk and bled out. But according to William, there is no hospital record of anyone else wounded that day or the next.”
“So you think he walked away.”
Jon shook his head. “No way to know.” But, he knew he’d failed. And he was sure this was his last chance. Ever. He sighed.
Avram asked the flight attendant for a cola.
William sat on Jon’s other side.
Jon faced him. “Avram told me you shot three of them. Didn’t know you could handle a gun.”
William shrugged. “Neither did I. It was the first time I ever held one. And, if I never see one again, I’ll be much happier.” He touched Jon’s shoulder. “What should I tell my father?”
Jon stared into the space in front of him. “If he ever finds out what Mossad did, it’ll be bad for Israel. And if he finds out you lied to him, it’ll be worse for you. Can you destroy the Bloodridge data in the Chinese and Russian servers?”
William shook his head. “Not easily. And I think any hack I try will leave traces behind. A trail of bread crumbs back to me.” He shook his head, then sat rock still, and seconds passed. “But there is a way.” He smiled. “Remember the Butterfly? I’ll need cash for this favor. I don’t think she’ll settle for phone sex this time.”
Jon’s brows rose. “Really? Phone sex, eh? Well, how much money? Whatever it is, I know I can easily arrange it.”
“And what do I tell my father?”
Jon frowned. “You’ll just have to take the risk and lie to him. Can you do that?”
Wing’s face fell. “I’ve done worse, but never lied to him.” He shook his head. “Maybe I can figure something out, but don’t count on it. At least I think I can get Betsy to destroy the evidence.”
Jon remained silent. He’d had enough deception to last a lifetime.
William pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He got out of his seat and headed to the aircraft’s restroom.
After William returned, he smiled at Jon. “Done. Here’s what it’ll cost you.” He handed Jon a slip of paper on which he’d written a number.
Jon’s eyes widened. “So be it.” Jon saw the bank codes for Betsy’s intermediate numbered bank account, also written on the scrap. He pocketed it and shook William’s hand. “Thanks. I’m grateful for your friendship. I’d be honored to work with you again.”
William glowed. “I hope there won’t be a next time.” He extended his hand.
Jon took it. “Friends and secrets forever.”
Bob Gault stood at the foot of the bed in the military hospital at Incirlik Air Base, Turkey. The army doctor scratched instructions on a clipboard for the patient, George LeFebre, and hung it at the foot of the bed. He faced the bulky spy. “He’s making progress every day. I think it’ll be another week, maybe ten days. It’s likely he’ll regain consciousness. If and when he does, Mr. Lefebre can start walking soon after that.” The doctor scanned the top page of the clipboard, without bending over. “He is strong and healing fast. I’ll check in later, in the afternoon.”
As the doctor moved to the next bed, Gault counted the tubes coming into and leaving the torso of Tariq Houmaz. It occurred to him that the terrorist was the reincarnation of Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein’s monster. He thought of screaming, “He’s alive.” And with that thought, the spy chuckled.
He had no intention of spending another ten days, or perhaps even more, with a comatose terrorist. But orders were orders.
The bomb maker was the ultimate toy for McDougal. A worthy prize, useful in so many ways.
Gault still believed the bomb maker held the trump card to gain the spy his long-overdue promotion. He decided to call his work with Houmaz “Project Frankenstein.” He thought, wake up, you useless piece of flesh. Wake up. I am your master and I have a world to give you!
Chapter Forty-Three
William Wing’s apartment, Ascot Heights, Block A, 21 Lok Lam Road, New Territories, Hong Kong
October 14, 2:37 p.m.
William rolled his suitcase through the door of his Hong Kong apartment. His mind was filled with a swirl of alternatives so contradictory and so dangerous, he couldn’t decide what to do. If he told his father he couldn’t find the perpetrators of the computer intrusions, his father might dismiss him and once again bar him from ever returning. No good. But his father might detect the lie in him and do worse. Would he? Was he ruthless enough? He thought and concluded, yes, he is.
If William never called, it might alarm the old man more. He might send an exfiltration team. Would he torture his own son? William didn’t want to find out.
He tried sleeping the first night he was back. But his mind kept cycling through the dismal alternative Jon had left him. Damn! Maybe he should just tell his father the truth? What was the worst that could happen? Maybe China had already hacked the truth from the Russian computers? If so, any lie would mark him with his father. And this would no longer be an issue of saving face.
In the middle of the night, he gave up trying to sleep. He plucked his cell phone from the bed stand. After dialing the number, he waited for her to pick up.
“Little Wing! You know, I was beginning to miss you. Let me take off my dress and we can begin. I’m horny. Really—”
“Uh, Betsy, I need another favor.”
“Crap. I need another orgasm. And after all I—”
“Yeah, I know. And we’ll get to you right after.”
“You’re a miserable piece of shit, you know that? Fuck. Okay, what now?”
William steeled himself to the task. He formulated his request with care. “I need to see you. Even an encrypted phone connection won’t work for this.”
“This sounds dangerous. You know the rule. No danger!”
He clenched his fists, even though one gripped the phone. “My father is involved, and his helpers are good at what we do.”
“Your daddy? You have a daddy?” He heard her snort.
&
nbsp; “Butterfly, listen. This isn’t dangerous if it’s done right.” And then he remembered Jon saying those words to him. He sighed. “I know this is a break with our arrangement, but, please?”
The silence was painful to endure. “Okay. But, if we’re to do this, there will be major changes. I’ll own you for a month. And you’ll do whatever I ask for this simple favor I grant you. Clear?”
He grimaced. “Yeah.”
“And, well, I lied about my appearance. I took a few liberties.”
William chuckled. “Well, I did too.”
He heard her sigh. She asked, “Okay then. What next?”
“I need to know where I’m going.”
“I’m in Woodbine, Iowa. A real hole. You’ll love it. For excitement, the locals watch the train go through town. Fly to Omaha and rent a car. Then call me for directions.”
He nodded to himself. “Are you still horny?”
“Well, duh!”
He closed his eyes. “Okay, then. I can help. Listen. You’re lying on a blanket at the beach. An obscure, empty patch of sand in Hawaii. Near Waikoloa. No one else you can see, so you decided to go swimming nude. Got it? Okay, then, take off your suit and walk into the warm water. You drift floating on your back. Are you there?”
“Yes.” Her words came to him in a hiss.
“Suddenly, an Asian man, young and strong, floats nearby on a surfboard. He admires your body. See him?”
“Yes. Yes!”
William felt his own arousal, imagining the scene he painted. “You turn your head to inspect him. He removes his bathing suit and smiles.”
“Oh, god. Yes.”
William smiled. “And he reaches across the tiny gulf separating you from him. Touches your breast with one hand as you both glide on a wave onto the beach. Can you feel his fingers?”
“Uhh uhhuh.”
William unbuckled his pants. “His hands are on both your breasts, your hands are guiding him inside you. The waves, he rocks you in their rhythm. Can you feel it?”
“Ahhhhhh. Oh, god, yes. Yes!”
When they were done, he thought seeing her might not be a good thing after all. He felt misgivings about how he’d lied to her and cheated her.
But, it would be good to be done with their lies. He was surprised to realize that lying disgusted him. With that thought, he finished packing his bags.
Before he could leave, he had one more call to make.
The building in Herzliyya always amazed Jon at how obscure it looked. He walked through the garage to the guard’s booth. “Jon Sommers for the SHABEK trainer.”
The soldier picked up a cell phone and checked a list. He shook his head. “You’re not on the list.”
Jon nodded. “Yeah. I know. Please call Yigdal Ben-Levy. Tell him I’m here. He’ll want to see me.”
In minutes he wore a visitor badge and was accompanied by an armed guard. He knocked on the basement door.
“Come,” boomed the voice inside.
He entered, but Ben-Levy continued reading a page from a yellow file. He turned the file over and pointed to the seat opposite him. “Welcome, Jon.”
Jon sat.
Mother smiled. “Someone sent you a message.” He handed Jon an envelope. Heavy, expensive paper, and the return address was printed: Phillip Watson and Jennifer Stolworth. The techno-weenie prince and his fiancée. Jon placed the envelope in his pocket.
Mother’s smile disappeared. “I’ve been reading Shula’s debrief report. You did some excellent work. For the record, I never doubted your quality.”
Jon frowned. “Really? Then why did you try to have me terminated?”
Ben-Levy leaned closer. “I felt it was necessary to motivate you. And, it worked.”
Jon held back the anger he felt. “Motivate me? You sent a hit squad to motivate me?” He took a deep breath. “Tariq Houmaz lives.”
“Yes, I’ve read the reports. But he bought us such wonderful toys. Excellent gifts.” Ben-Levy’s lips half-formed another smile.
Jon frowned. “And, you think this was all about some toys? Shit, man. People died.” Jon started to rise.
“Sit! We’re not done yet.”
Jon stared into the spymaster’s eyes. He took a deep breath. “Do you have any further business with me?”
“No. But you have business with me, don’t you?”
His formulas predicted Ben-Levy would want closure. Jon could see it in the old man’s eyes. Both knew they weren’t through with each other. Lisa’s voice in his head whispered, now, Jon. Tell him. Ask him.
Jon said, “I know all about Bloodridge.” He saw the spymaster flinch. “My hacker’s father is Xiang Wing, your counterpart in the Chinese government. The elder Wing had my friend search for the cause of the border skirmishes. I had William promise not to tell his father. It was inevitable it would lead back to you. And, it’s inevitable they’ll find out. So, consider this a bit of advance warning from me. I’ll keep your secret. So will my hacker. But if we go missing or when we die, all secrets will become public. You understand?”
Ben-Levy stared at the floor. “A life insurance policy? Well, done, Jon. And, thanks.” He smiled.
Jon ticked that one off his mental list. “My hacker knows another who may be your best shot at eliminating all traces of Bloodridge within the Chinese computers. This hacker can plant evidence within the records of the Beijing supercomputers pointing to the United States. But Moscow Center’s servers will continue to point to China, so Moscow may keep their hold on weapons sales. It’ll cost you five million USD. Interested?”
Mother sat motionless for a second. He looked away, but when his gaze returned, he nodded.
Jon handed him a piece of paper with the bank account information written on it. “Make sure you wash the sending account and make the transaction description read ‘Uncle Yig’s Will.’ Okay?”
Mother’s smile was momentary. “But I sense you want something from me. And, given what I do for a living, I’m a good judge of talent.”
Jon moved his seat closer. “But of course. Several things. First, answer my questions. My parents. Who really killed them? And why?”
Ben-Levy’s eyes focused on his hands. “We believe Yassir Arafat ordered their deaths because of the operation they were involved with at the time. In return, we had him assassinated using an undetectable poison Lester Dushov developed at Ness Ziona. Arafat’s death was officially a heart attack.”
“Is that all you can tell me?”
“Unfortunately, I’ve told you more than I’m authorized to. But, well, they were important to the state. And they were my friends. It was a simpler time then. Before the mission that caused both your parents’ deaths, I promised your father, if anything ever happened to him, I’d look after you. Jon, I’m your godfather. He wanted you to become Mossad. I make few promises. So in return for their service, I had Israel fund your education and keep you safe. As I told you once before, I keep my promises.”
Jon’s eyes widened. “So the attempts to have me killed, they were just orchestrated moves by Shula and her team?”
“Yes. And I made the deal with Crane to have MI-6 get you from the safe house in East Meadow.”
Jon nodded. “All of it was an act. Tell me, was it you who delivered the envelope to Phillip Watson?”
Mother shook his head. “Michael Drapoff noticed the feeble attempts someone had made trying to penetrate our network firewall. He backtraced the datastream to Watson and I decided to deliver a message.”
Jon nodded. “Did you send Ruth DeWitt? Is she one of yours?”
Mother frowned. “Who?”
Jon saw the empty denial for what it was. He tensed. “Is she back in Israel?”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
Jon shook his head. His resolve peaked. “I want something. Something important. I want a job with Mossad.”
Ben-Levy shook his head. “Jon, you’ve proven you’re not a killer. I can’t use you in SHABEK.”
Jon’s brows furrowed. “I know that. But I’ve worked here and experienced the passion of this country. I feel a part of it now and don’t want to lose it. I want to protect it. Look, I’ve been well-trained, and the best way for you to let me keep your secrets is have me within the Mossad. I don’t want to work for you. I want to work in traditional espionage. In the Collections Department. Turns out, that’s what I do best. Find things out. Work with teams to turn them to the task. But no assassinations.”
The spymaster smiled. “Ah. Let me think. Yes. I can make that happen. We can place you in Collections.”
Jon’s breath left him in a rush. “Please. And something more. I want citizenship. I’ve given enough to prove I’m worthy.”
Yigdal Ben-Levy nodded. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “Let me start the process right now.”
Jon remembered the last time he was with Lisa Gabriel. He conjured her voice, from the last time he’d ever seen her. The last time he’d held her hand: “I’ll bring you there. I want to show you. You’ll be proud.” He felt his eyes grow moist.
He finally had a home.
Twenty minutes later, Mother had done all he promised. A courier entered the basement office and handed Ben-Levy an envelope. Mother passed it across the desk to Jon. “Our computers will reflect your citizenship by the end of tomorrow.”
Jon ripped it open. His passport and citizenship papers. He shook hands with Mother. “I’m sure our paths will cross again. Maybe some of my assignments will produce actionable intel for you.”
Ben-Levy nodded. “Welcome home, Jon.”
Jon left the basement office and walked to the elevator, on his way to Mossad’s Intelligence Operations Division, which housed the Collections Department. The lift’s doors opened and a tall, willowy blond walked out passing him. Jon did a double-take. “Ruth DeWitt?”
The woman walked on, but Jon was sure it was her. Maybe she hadn’t heard. Or, more likely, it wasn’t her real name. He caught up with her and touched her shoulder.
