by D S Kane
When the download completed, he collected the thumb-drive, closed the door, left the apartment, and pressed another button on the jammer-scanner. All evidence of his visit was erased and the cams started up again. The color of the entry door returned to what it was before he’d arrived, indicating no one had ever entered the apartment.
Chan was down the elevator and out through the lobby in less than two minutes. He walked to his parked car, thinking about Xian Wing’s order to have his son’s computer hacked. What had Major William Wing done to disappoint his father this time?
William walked further down the hallway at Stillwater. He passed the emergency exit out to the parking lot. As he approached it, holding the delivery boxes in his left hand, he reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a spray can disguised as a pack of cigarettes. He aimed its nozzle at the lock release and pressed the button. The door unlatched but the alarm didn’t ring. Jon, Ruth, and Avram entered the hallway from the parking lot, armed with Ruger Mini-14s, modified for full automatic firing. Each wore Kevlar coated STF dipped shirts.
Avram tossed a Kevlar vest to William and he donned it. William handed Jon the delivery boxes and exited the building into the parking lot.
Jon, Avram and Ruth each took a piece of dim sum from the bottom box and armed the timer and failsafe on the char siu bao. They patted the three dumplings into different sections of the wall of the development lab.
They all left through the door to the parking lot and walked back to the van.
Inside the research building at Antron SA, near the town of Gals, Canton of Bern, Shimon Tennenbaum looked at his wristwatch. At this hour there were few employees walking the halls, and the plan assumed the ones they saw were on their way to meetings or to the cafeteria. The team could pursue their objectives as if they also appeared to be on their way to meetings. He popped the lid on his attaché case and pulled the final gray ball from it, embedded and set its timer for five minutes, and placed it at the bottom of the fire extinguisher hanging outside the development lab. In all the team had thirty-six of the tiny devices, six for each kidon, and by now, he guessed all had been placed according to Ben-Levy’s plan.
Shimon located a fire alarm adjacent to the exit near the conference room. It was his job to make sure Herr Müller escaped death. He entered the conference room and pulled the man’s limp body from the chair. Hoisting the attorney over his shoulder, Shimon staggered toward the nearest exit at the rear of the building.
He pulled the fire alarm and ran through the exit, into the parking lot. He dropped Müller at the edge of the lawn,close to the parking lot. The team would be embedded within a stream of employees exiting into the parking lot. No one would notice they’d been here.
In the parking lot of the Stillwater Technologies manufacturing facility, at 16 Technology Drive, Jon slammed the van’s door after the last of his team entered. He looked at his watch. “Three minutes to go. Start the engine but don’t put on the headlights.”
William had been there for several minutes, his role having been to get the rest of the team easy entry into Stillwater’s lab. He pounded the keys of his notebook computer. “Just a few more lines of code. Almost there. Got it! The false plans are in the back-up server. Now, give me one more minute. Oh, shit, the connection is slow.” He clenched his jaw. “Okay, I’ve blown everything out from the other servers. They’re all scrap. Get us out of here.”
Ruth punched a number into her cell phone. “What’s the code to set off the fire alarm?”
William said, “Seven-eight-four-two.”
She nodded and keyed the number. “Yuri, take us away, slow, and gain speed when we’re off this block.”
Yuri pulled the van away.
Jon looked over his shoulder as men and women in white lab coats ran from the building.
At Antron, the Mossad hit team crossed the parking lot to the street. Alarms from the building’s fire control mixed with the sound of the fire engines that converged on the building. In the van, Lester started the engine and drove down the street. Ries punched a number into her cell phone and all of the explosions were simultaneous, raining glass and metal in a fireball. Antron SA disappeared in flames.
The explosion at Stillwater Technology took place in stages. The first pop was soft, a sound without any flash, but the second one was loud and bright. As that happened, all the people on the lawn in front of the building ran into the street. Seconds later a fireball blew out from the center of the building. Glass and metal sprayed over the entire area.
William grinned. “It worked! One of your plans actually worked!”
Yuri entered Highway 880 and stared into the rearview mirror as he steered to the right lane. He increased his speed to that of the traffic. Jon was torn by a desperate desire to get as far away as possible as fast as the limo could go, and, the conviction that they needed to not draw attention to themselves. His eyes scanned their flanks.
Avram said, “There will be casualties. Maybe even deaths.”
Ruth whispered, “Mother’s plans always come at the price of death.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Intersection of Highways 880 and 237, Milpitas, CA
August 1, 10:16 a.m.
The limo took the exit off 880 and was caught in a jam on 237, the highway that ran across the heart of Silicon Valley. Yuri slammed his fist against the steering wheel and cursed in Hebrew. Avram reached across the seatback and touched Yuri’s shoulder. “It’s not a problem. Just don’t draw attention to us.” Yuri nodded into the rearview. He took a deep breath.
As the van crept through traffic, Jon pulled the cell phone from his pocket. “Get me Mother. It’s Sommers.” The call terminated, and his phone began vibrating a few seconds later. He punched the Accept Call key. “It’s done.”
The whisper at the other end of the line said, “Good.”
Jon remembered something William had told him. He wasn’t sure why the connection had popped into his head, but before he could stop it, he found himself wondering if there was a link between the mission his team just completed and the one Mother had demanded William perform a while ago. Sashakovich had the hacked Bug-Lok files. She had been one of Greenfield’s agents. Who was she working for now? “Before we end this conversation, I’d like to know if Sashakovich works for you.” Jon felt his heartbeat accelerating.
Mother paused, and Jon could hear his breathing. “Of course not. She is an unknown. Someone like her has been roaming around the Middle East for years, stealing money from terrorist organizations, but she isn’t ours.”
Jon wondered if this was a lie. He remembered long ago, when he’d trusted this man. “Is she a threat? That’s why you had me visit William so long ago. Do you know where she is? What’s her status?”
“Jon, this isn’t any of your business. Return to Dreitsbank. I’ll let our sayanim there know to expect you.”
Jon wasn’t through yet. He pursed his lips. “William told me about Antron and Pesi Houmaz. You arranged for them to also have an accident, didn’t you? Who ran the corresponding mission to keep the device from being manufactured by Houmaz?” He expected Ben-Levy to be surprised by his knowledge. He could see William smirking.
But all Mother did was to terminate the call.
Jon wasn’t sure what to believe. He’d suspected Mother lied all the time. Now he wondered, does Mother believe his own lies?
Yigdal Ben-Levy watched from the back seat as the limo approached a private terminal at Ben Gurion Airport. Maybe Jon had a valid point. Was Sashakovich still a threat? If so what should he do? He decided to have Jon and William resume work on the hunt for Cassandra. She needed to be recruited or terminated. She was, at the very least, a dangerous loose end. A plan began to form in his mind. He could achieve two objectives while incurring no additional risk. Mother grinned.
The highway was a blur as his mind raced through the possible scenarios. He suspected Gilbert Greenfield’s intelligence agency had its own problems with moles and one of
them had sold her real name, blowing her cover for cash and making her a target. But if this was so, who and why? If he discovered who their mole was, could he also turn them and get a seat at their table in the United States intelligence community? If his assumption was valid, who was targeting her? Just thinking about this spawned pains in his stomach. He reached for a bottle of antacid tablets inside his attaché case.
He also pulled out the notebook computer, and crafted a Venn diagram titled “Sashakovich.” He placed a circle in the center, called “Cassandra.” He called the first circle to intersect it “Mole.” The next circle he named “Targeting Party or Agency.”
The limo pulled to a stop at the private air terminal and he closed the lid of the notebook. It would be a long flight to Reagan National Airport. He didn’t expect to discover anything of value, but often these diagrams triggered epiphanies that amazed him. He prayed for one today.
As the plane crossed the Atlantic and the hours passed, the list of possibilities grew and the diagram blossomed with lines that crisscrossed each other, connecting each box to each of the others.
“Targeting Party or Agency” grew into several separate boxes: “CIA/NSA/etc.,” “Terrorist organizations,” and “MI-6.” Now, each line connecting it to “Cassandra” had a small explanation he’d printed along its line. “Mole” grew into each of the others. The overlaps from “Mole” and “Targeting agency” cluttered the diagram.
Mother scratched his beard. The possibilities were myriad, confusing. The truth was in here somewhere. He knew if he could find it, he’d have leverage over someone. He hoped it was Greenfield. But that was wishful thinking. Who were the players? He had to know.
He swallowed a handful of antacid tablets.
As the aircraft carrying Yigdal Ben-Levy made its way through the night, 35,000 feet above the Mediterranean toward New York, his cell buzzed and he woke. He shook his head to clear it while he removed the phone from his pocket. “Yes?”
“It’s Drapoff. We found some interesting activity in the Ness Ziona’s mainframe router. It’s what you expected, but with a serious twist.”
Mother sat up, ramrod straight in his seat. “Tell me.”
“The original theft of the Bug-Lok plans, back in early April. The system backtraced the hacker to Beijing.”
Mother’s stomach turned sour. William Wing, or the Chinese CSIS Hacker Unit, called the 6000s? He reached for the antacid bottle. “But—”
“Exactly. It will be difficult to backtrace any further and determine who. We’re ready to install the firewall upgrades you ordered as soon as this op is over. But once we do, any backtrace will be wiped.”
Mother chewed three tablets and popped the lid off the water bottle. He took a swallow. Could he trust Wing? Maybe it was easier to assume the young hacker was innocent. He could always fix that end of the problem later, if he turned out to be the real source of the leak. “Don’t install them yet. We may want to supply the Chinese with some disinformation before we cut them off and fix the problem once and for all.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say. I’ll call when I have further intel.”
Mother terminated the call. The Chinese? Did William Wing give them his intel? Were they who Sashakovich was working for? His head was throbbing now.
At least the modifications to Bug-Lok that he’d had Wing install at the backup Stillwater and Antron servers and also those of the Ness Ziona contained a Trojan to route a copy of the identity of the interloper as well as any relevant activity back to the Mossad, not to the enemy spymaster who falsely believed he controlled the project. The altered plans would give any Bug-Lok target an ulcer but not kill them.
He dropped the water bottle and the tablets into his attaché case and closed his eyes. I may have an ulcer, but at least I’m not infected with a Bug-Lok.
The ghost of Aviva Bushovsky laughed in his face. Her message was simple: Why are you so sure you aren’t? His eyes popped open and bulged in their sockets.
At San Jose Airport, Jon and Ruth said goodbye to Avram and William. William seemed flush with relief and giggled at them all. Avram looked at the screen on his wristwatch. He seemed nervous.
Yuri handed them their bags. Jon thought, it seems appropriate that our final mission together ended with no complications. He hugged William. “Take good care of Lily.” William smiled and headed off to the security gate for Singapore Airlines.
Jon and Avram hugged. It was like hugging a telephone pole, tall and sturdy. “Where are you off to?”
Avram took a deep breath. “Now I have the cash to make my dream real. A new life for me. Perhaps we’ll meet again, Jon.”
Jon nodded. “Friends and secrets forever.”
Avram pulled his rolling suitcase behind him and disappeared into the mob of people waiting on the security line.
Ruth read Jon’s face. He could tell she knew what he was thinking. She hugged him. “Back to Germany for us.”
He stared into her eyes, reading a reflection of his own feelings for her. He was sure she was in love with him. He grinned.
She held his hand while they strolled toward the security line.
Jon thought, I never believed I’d fall in love again. And certainly not with a fellow spy.
It took Jon and Ruth two days to complete the trip back to Munich. When the lights went out in the passenger section during the night, they made love under one of the courtesy blankets. Jon couldn’t remember ever being this happy.
Jon and Ruth arrived home at Ottobrunner Strasse 17 early after dawn. Ruth packed her suitcase and held Jon close while he inhaled her perfume. Jon dressed in a business suit and drove her to the airport on his way to Dreitsbank.
He’d thought he would be eager to be back in the identity of Herr Friedrich Stamphil. As the elevator rose toward his floor, he clenched his hands. He felt the breath being sucked out from him as if the bank were an airless prison. He nodded at his fellow employees as he walked the carpeted halls to his office.
Gunda Schlein seemed happy and surprised when he passed her position in the repair department. She rose and followed him.
He nodded to her as he hung up his fedora and trench coat. She sat without asking.
“Ah, Ms. Schlein. Good to see you once again.”
She nodded, her head bobbing as if it rode the waves off an ocean beach. “Can we talk now, Herr Stamphil? Please?”
He sat behind the desk and surveyed the papers covering it. It was obvious; someone had been though his things. He’d need to know what had happened here, but not yet. First, Ms. Schlein. “Yes, Fraulein. Close the door first, please.”
“Last year, after I read the memorandum welcoming you to the noncredit services area of Dreitsbank, I received a telephone call at my apartment from a man who claimed he knew you. He threatened to arrest my brother in Birmingham and—”
Jon was halfway out of his seat. “He what?”
She clamped her lips together. Moisture at the edges of her eyes reflected in the fluorescent lighting. “I said he threatened my brother.”
“Birmingham in United Kingdom? Was he British?”
“Yes. Of course he was.”
Jon wondered if the caller was Sir Charles Crane. “I see. He enrolled you as an asset to MI-6?”
Her eyes screwed in their sockets. “What’s MI-6?”
Jon wondered how much to tell her. “Okay, then. What did he want from you?”
She took a deep breath. “He wanted me to watch and record you, all your activities, all your work, when you arrived and left, who you saw, and every decision you made. I complied.”
Jon grimaced. “And then? When I asked you to monitor the repair cues for suspicious transfers?”
“I reported those to the man. He told me to tell you what I’d found.”
Jon nodded. The Brits were still following the activities of the Houmaz brothers. “Fraulein, why are you telling me this now?”
“I haven’t heard from him in weeks. I think something is
about to happen. I’m afraid. I may know something I shouldn’t.”
He smiled. “And now that you’ve told me, what do you think that will do to the level of danger you’re exposed to?”
Her head fell into her hands and she began to cry. “I don’t know.”
Jon nodded again. “Maybe I can tell you. If they no longer need you, but they think you may know things that could be used to expose them, well, they might need to eliminate you as a possible source of distress.”
“You mean kill me?”
Jon shrugged. “Possibly.” He tapped his pencil on the desk several times. “Maybe I can help you.”
Her eyes bugged open. “Who are you? Really?”
Jon steeled himself to his task. Here was where the biggest risk was in enrolling an asset. He kept his face as blank as he could. “I work for Dreitsbank. But I also have a relationship with a friendly intelligence service.”
Her face scrunched then dropped in shock. “You, too?” She sat in silence. “How could you help me?”
This was the precipice. Either he enrolled her now or would be in jeopardy of exposure. He took a deep breath and smiled. “Help me and my intelligence service will protect you. Let me assure you, we’re on the side of peace.”
She rose from the seat and headed toward the door. “I dunno. Lemme think about it.”
Jon said, “Stop for just a second.” She turned, and he continued. “I can’t keep this offer open very long. My associates will need to arrange a security detail and you’ll be exposed until that happens. Understand?”
She nodded and closed the door behind her, heading back to her desk. Jon thought, well, that didn’t go as I’d planned.
