by Gareth Otton
The round room materialised, but he sensed only the door that lead to his own memories. He was on the verge of giving up when a thought struck.
He envisioned Cleopatra and focused on the picture of her in his mind. He saw again the woman he fought; her strong, dark eyes, her high cheek bones, and narrow face. The woman who looked very much how he imagined Cleopatra.
He took that image, and he applied it to his reality, thinking what her door might look like. From what little he knew of her he imagined she had a military background so he went for something that was hardy and secure. He couldn’t help but put a touch of Egyptian decoration around the frame, still tying her with Cleopatra even though she probably wasn’t even Egyptian.
Once it was done, it didn’t matter what she actually was. As with his ghosts, in his dreams perception was everything.
His imaginings made the door real. More than this, he knew deep down that it worked. In this place, even without his eyes, he knew everything by instinct. He didn’t need to see the door, to touch it or feel it. All he needed was his instinctual knowledge, his belief, that it was the door he wanted.
Behind that door were the answers he craved. When it came to dreams, those who were aware they were dreaming were the masters of their world. Tad was always aware when he was dreaming, so maybe he could manipulate the answers he needed from her sleeping mind.
He reached for her door, opened it, and stepped inside the mind of a woman he suddenly knew was named Dinah Mizrahi.
25
Friday, 28th November 2015
18:23
“You ready for this?” he asks.
She looks out the window at the tarmac and airport. She expects someone to come for her. They always said she was too valuable to let go. Could this be real?
The plane moves, and she gets her answer. There’s no one coming. They have finally accepted that she no longer works for them.
Dinah turns away from the window and meets her husband’s eyes. He’s nervous while waiting for her answer. He knows what she’s giving up for him, doesn’t think he’s worth it. He doesn’t know how wrong he is.
She kisses him, and he’s surprised. She likes that. It reminds her of when they first met. How nervous he was. He’s a good man, far too good for her. She loves him.
Is she ready?
Of course she is. He’s the reason she’d been waiting for to leave it all behind. She’d follow him anywhere. He was her life now.
She breaks the kiss and wonders if now is the right time to tell him. He’s smiling in that way she loves so much. He’s so innocent. Everything she’s not.
Yes, now is the perfect time.
She leans in again only this time not to kiss him. She whispers, wanting this moment to be just theirs.
“Yes, I’m ready,” she says. “And not just me. I’m pregnant.”
He’s stunned.
She has never seen that on him before. She’s seen him nervous, seen him happy, seen him scared, seen him when he’s so upset he can’t look her in the eye. She has never seen him so silent.
He’s always talking, never shuts up. It drives her mad, but she loves it about him. She knows where she stands with him. It’s a novel feeling. She’s been around secret keepers so long it’s a breath of fresh air.
But now she can’t tell. Is he happy? Has she ruined everything?
Her smile is slipping. That contented feeling from leaving Israeli soil is falling away. This is why they let her leave. They knew she couldn’t survive outside their world.
They had trained her since she was young. She was the best at what she was, belonged in their world of secrets, violence and death. What was she thinking pursuing this stupid, girlish dream?
She feels a lump in her throat and the possibility of tears when he changes everything yet again.
He laughs.
It isn’t a quiet chuckle nor a discreet giggle. It’s a roar that makes half of the passengers jump. He laughs again, then whoops and punches the air.
Dinah feels her smile return. A stewardess comes to see what’s going on but doesn’t speak. He won’t let her.
“I’m going to be a father,” he tells her happily. “This beautiful woman is carrying my child.”
He’s shouting now and Dinah feels her cheeks burn. The idiot is causing a scene. She doesn’t like attention.
But if that’s the case, why is she grinning?
An old couple across the isle look at her and they’re smiling. She smiles back. The stewardess is smiling also, chuckling at his actions.
“Congratulations,” she hears from behind her and she turns to see a middle aged woman has leaned forward in her seat.
“Thank you,” Dinah whispers, still awkward but grinning.
“Sir. I understand you’re happy, but I need you to calm down.” The stewardess is trying not to laugh. A lot of other people aren’t so considerate. He doesn’t care. He laughs with them and announces it to the whole plane yet again.
“I’m going to be a dad,” he says.
There are more laughs, shouts of congratulations and even a few cheers. Dinah didn’t think she could blush this much.
“Calm down you fool,” she says fondly, laying a hand on his arm. He turns back and kisses her hard. When he lets up she gasps for breath, but she’s still grinning. “Calm down.”
He nods and takes a breath. “Sorry,” he says. Then he turns to the stewardess and says it again to her. She smiles at him and tells him to at least hold it in until they’re in the air. He promises he will.
People are still laughing. He finally notices and his own blush rises. He sinks deeper into his chair and grabs Dinah’s hand.
“I think I might have caused a scene,” he says.
She laughs at him again. It’s a fond laugh, one filled with love. She suddenly doesn’t mind the attention. All she cares about is that she’s never been happier. She kisses him again, then settles back into her chair for take off.
The plane leaves the tarmac, and she leaves her home behind forever. She’s still holding his hand. She won’t let it go until they land in their new home of England.
For the first time she misses her gun.
It has been ten years since she used it for anything other than training. Now she yearns for it. She grabs the large torch she keeps in the bedroom instead. It will have to do.
Her husband is snoring, oblivious. She decides not to wake him. It’s best that he stays out of this. He’s too soft. He’ll want to protect her from herself.
She doesn’t need protecting. They do.
She thinks her past has caught up with her as she creeps down the hallway. She looks in Adam’s room. He’s sleeping, not disturbed by the noises that woke her. Next she pops her head in the baby’s room. Gabriella is also asleep which is lucky because she usually likes to cry at night. Adam wasn’t like that and she didn’t realise how lucky she was the first time round.
But she’s asleep now, and that’s good. If Dinah's past has come back to haunt her, them being asleep could save their lives.
Her bare feet make no sound as she descends the carpeted stairs and creeps down the hall on the ground floor. There’s light coming from under the kitchen door. She didn’t leave it on so there must be someone there.
She grips the torch tighter and falls back into her training. She has been gone from that world for ten years but has not grown weak. They will regret breaking into her house.
She slips into an old mindset, the warrior, and is disturbed by how quickly it returns. The warrior doesn’t care for anything like that though. She only cares about the mission. She is focused.
She takes a deep breath, then bursts into the kitchen.
He’s waiting calmly. There’s no weapon in his hand nor surprise on his face. He leans against the counter with his arms by his side and a gentle smile curling his lips. She looks around for someone else. There’s no one. The arrogant bastard came alone.
He’ll regret that.
She a
dvances on him.
He laughs.
“Now now, Mrs Mizrahi. There’s no need for violence.”
He speaks English like a native, his accent mixed. It surprises her. She knows people in her old industry who could speak like a native, but they always had a regional accent. It was the best way to sound local. However, a mix of accents as though he’s moved around, makes her suspect he actually is British.
He isn’t from her old life.
Her old employers would send one of their own. It doesn’t matter to the warrior. All that matters is that he's in her house while her babies are upstairs. That is unforgivable.
She keeps advancing, confident she can teach him a lesson.
He still laughs, uncaring.
He’s a strange looking man, too thin. He’s bald, and though he tries to hide it with his well cut suit, he looks sick. Cancer? Maybe leukaemia? He’s weak.
But he's so cocky. He shouldn’t be. Not only is he sick but there’s something wrong with his left arm. It’s too small, withered and broken. He’s crippled.
Why is he so confident?
It gives her pause, but not for long. It doesn’t matter what he is, he’s in her home.
She's close enough to attack and swings her torch at him, the heavy metal head arcing for his skull.
He moves faster than she thinks possible. His right hand catches the torch. She feels like she has struck concrete. The torch sticks in place, and when he tries to pull it back, it’s set in stone.
She watches in awe as his fingers squeeze. The glass in the torch shatters and the metal groans. Eventually it splits under the pressure and she has no choice but to let go.
She's stunned, but shock has no place in a fight. She strikes his throat… only, he’s not there.
Her hand passes through where he once was. He has vanished and she over balances, following through with the punch and colliding with the wall.
There is laughing again.
She spins to find him standing behind her, all too real. She turns and tries to punch him. This time her knuckles brush his skin and then he is gone again, fading into nothingness.
When he comes back, he grabs her by the arm. The strength is like nothing she has ever felt and she has to struggle to keep from crying out. She tries to pull away but there’s so little give. She might as well be locked in a vice.
He casually twists his wrist and she gasps in agony as her shoulder pops out of its socket.
“Is that enough?” he asks in a bored tone. “I don’t have all night for this.”
He lets her go, and she staggers away, colliding against the kitchen table and falling into a chair. She stays where she is. She doesn’t attack again. He is still standing, still arrogant. He has every right to be.
“What are you?” she wants to know.
His smile is chilling, and she feels something she can’t remember ever feeling before, at least not so strongly. Fear.
“I could tell you I’m a Proxy, but it won’t mean anything to you. What we really need to talk about is what you are.”
He strolls over to another chair and pulls it out, seating himself almost delicately. “I've looked into you, Dinah. I have to say, you’re an impressive woman. To have risen so high in the Mossad is no small thing, especially being a woman. But I’m not surprised. Your record is—”
“Sealed. You haven't seen it.”
He laughs, and she doubts her own words.
“Allen. Marissa. Berkovich. Lewinski. Need I say more?”
More than anything else that surprises her. He should not know those names. No one should outside of her old employers.
"What do you want?"
He smiles again and leans in close. "Now we're getting somewhere? What I want, Dinah my dear, is what you do best. I want you to find people. There are special people all over the country, people like me. I want you to find them and I want you to bring them too me."
She shakes her head. "I don't do that anymore."
"But you’re the best. Your speciality is in finding people and… how do they put it… oh yes. Extraction. That's what you're good at, right? Finding and extracting. Well that's what I want."
The smile slips from his face and she shivers. She doesn't like how strong her fear is. She has been close to death before and it never mattered, but this man is scary. He could have spoken to her at work, while she was out shopping, at any time. He has come to her house for a reason. He is making a point.
"There's one thing you should know about me, Dinah. I get what I want. Do you understand?"
She thinks she’s starting to, and she nods.
“That's right. You get it now. You've seen what I can do. You know you couldn't stop me. Do this for me and I'll make you rich. Don't and I'll start with your husband. It won't be quick. I'll send him to you in pieces over a couple of weeks, just to make sure you get my message. If you still don't understand then I guess little Adam is—”
“Don’t you touch my kids,” she hissed, fear slipping aside for her rage to come through.
He smiles at her again. He is so arrogant, so mocking. Her threats mean nothing to him.
“I won’t if you do as you’re told.” He stands up, politely pushing his chair under the table. “I’ll leave now, give you a day to think it over. I know what your answer will be. You’re a smart woman. Do the right thing and you’ll see the benefits. Trust me.”
With that he turns and walks to the door. He doesn’t open it, doesn’t need to. He fades as he did before, vanishing on this side of the glass only to appear again on the other. He turns while in the yard, waves his good hand, then steps into the darkness.
Dinah waits five minutes to make sure he’s gone. Finally she gives in to her fear and the dreadful pain in her shoulder. She does something she has never done in her adult life. She can’t help it. She has never felt so useless.
Her head drops to her chest and she sobs.
Even after eleven years, she hates going to the tower.
It's no longer the ugly red-brick office building stained with graffiti she first encountered. Now it’s a tower of black stone and tinted glass. It’s a highly reflective monolith that is architecturally appealing, but feels… wrong.
Maybe she’s projecting. After all, the memories she associates with this place are bad ones. She has lost count of how many people she has brought to this tower over her years working for her employer.
The security guards at the gate don’t need to see her ID. They know her by sight and know the consequences of delaying her.
She drives into the underground car park, not stopping long enough to smile at the men who open the gate for her. The car park has the feel of a multi story, only darker.
She parks in a large spot on the second floor, just outside a set of double doors marked for deliveries. Two men, dressed like private security, are waiting with a gurney and restraints. They’re a welcome sight. If they weren’t there she would need to take him inside herself. She doesn’t like doing that.
She stays in the driver's seat as the rear doors of the van open. Normally they take her employer’s prize and leave. Today one of them approaches her door. She sighs and curses her luck. She should know better than to think she would have an easy night.
She winds down the window and waits for him to speak.
“He want’s to see you,” the man says. He doesn’t look her in the eye and he says nothing more. He simply walks away as though expecting her to follow. She doesn’t disappoint. No one turns down her employer unless they have a death wish.
She sighs again and steps out of the van.
The tower is just as dark on the inside as the outside, just as evil. The hallways are large and black, made of the same stone as the exterior. Like the outside, they’re polished to such a shine that she can see her reflection. There are few doors in the corridor which makes her wonder yet again how big the rooms are deeper into the building.
It isn’t long until they come to a small reception
area. Her employer is sitting on one of the chairs, playing with his phone with one hand and keeping his crippled hand tucked out of sight.
He looks worse today than when she first met him. Not only is he skeletally thin and still bald, but his skin is looking frail. He has dark rings around his eyes and is covered in shadows and bruising. It must be a trick of the light, but he looks sinister and dark.
He is still arrogant, which is evident in the cocky smile he flashes as she comes closer.
“You keep bringing me these wonderful toys,” he jokes. “Anyone would think you like me?”
“You wanted to see me?” she asks, trying to cut through his usual nonsense. He sighs like he’s being put upon and shakes his head.
“Never any time for pleasantries with you, is there Dinah? Ah well. Strait to business then. Where’s the girl?”
“Girl?”
“The one my ghosts have seen you following for the past few days.”
His ghosts. Of course they were following her. She should know better. He leaves nothing outside of his control, not even her.
“I haven’t had chance to get her yet. She is…” she lets her words trail off and decides he doesn’t need to know her reasons for not taking the girl. He doesn’t care. He only wants his prize.
“I will get her soon, I promise.”
His smile never waivers and he nods again. “Good. The sooner the better. I’m close to finishing all this now. Soon there’ll be no more jobs. Isn’t that sad?”
Sad? She has to stop herself jumping for joy. She’s never been able to imagine an end date. Now he’s telling her the nightmare might soon be over.
“How many more?” she dares to ask.
“Not many. Maybe just one. I’m not sure. Bring me the girl and I’ll let you know. Do it quickly. I have one other bit of business I need you to complete for me once it’s done. It might be your last job.”
“What is it?”
“As you know I keep a close eye on the families of those who work for me. There is one boy in one of those families that has caught my attention. The trouble is, he’s disappeared. I need you to find him and bring him here. He should be easier for you than normal. He’s not a Proxy. He’s just… talented.”
