The Prophet Conspiracy

by Bowen Greenwood

  Obviously, though, Ms. McLane was no professional.

  The hardest part was believing the Director about Siobhan McLane working with Cameron Dorn.

  Dorn! A double agent? It wasn’t possible. They were friends. They had been partners. They had trusted their lives to each other.

  And yet… the man had motive. He’d been so angry over being fired, Segal himself had recommended he get counseling.

  Dorn’s career was completely over. He’d gone from being a rising agent in one of the world’s top counter-intelligence agencies to being a lowly tour guide. Was that enough motive to turn him against his adopted country?

  Segal had to know for sure before he turned Dorn in. He just had to.

  And unlike the rest of the Shin Bet, he had the means to find out.

  Back when they’d been working together, Dorn used to take him to all his favorite places. The man loved his coffee, and there was only one place in Tel Aviv Dorn considered worthwhile.

  The pudgy supervisor of wiretappers walked over to his desk and took out his service weapon. Unlike Godwin, he carried an American Glock. He holstered the weapon, strapped it under his shoulder, and then put on his extra-large blazer to conceal it. With that, he walked toward the motor pool to check out a car for the drive to Tel Aviv.

  CHAPTER 15

  Cam stopped speaking in mid-sentence as the TV switched to a breaking news story.

  The entire screen was filled with their faces.

  “Cameron Dorn, a former agent of the Shin Bet, is being sought as a suspect in the terrorist incident at Ben Gurion International Airport earlier today,” the newscaster said. She spoke in Hebrew; English subtitles scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

  “Dorn is believed to be acting in concert with an American Hamas sympathizer named Siobhan McLane. McLane came to Israel calling herself a tourist but did not leave on her scheduled flight. A Shin Bet investigation so far has revealed evidence she has been in contact with known Hamas operatives.”

  The anchor went on to describe the bomb planted in the airport, the press release claiming responsibility sent by a Hamas operative with whom Siobhan had supposedly been in contact, the casualty count, and more.

  Siobhan looked at Cameron in horror. He simply stared at the screen, taking it all in. Only when the breaking news update ended did he finally speak in a low whisper.

  “It’s the smart play,” he said. “They need to keep us from getting Shin Bet involved in this. Now, we can’t.”

  “But if we just go to them and explain…”

  Cameron shook his head. “It’s not going to be that easy. Look at this: it’s on TV already and fully developed. This is a professional frame up. Anyone skilled enough to get this done is not going to have been sloppy enough that we can undo it with a quick interview.”

  She clenched her teeth together and felt her fear turning into anger and determination.

  He squeezed her hand and made eye contact. She could feel the strength in his hands. Then he said,

  “Give me some time. I don’t have the full solution yet. But I will get you out of this, Siobhan. I don’t know what else goes along with that, but I know that much. I will get you out.”

  The strength… the confidence… seven thousand miles, she reminded herself.

  She held her eye contact with him and said, “Cameron, I’m sick of this. I don’t know who’s doing this to my life, but I want to hurt them back.”

  He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side.

  She continued, “These people tried to kidnap me, tried to kill me, they may have succeeded in stranding me in Israel, and now they’re trying to frame me for mass murder? Why? I’m not the kind of person who finds it easy to just ignore something like this. I want to know what’s going on.”

  Still holding her hand, Cam said, “I don’t know what kind of Hamas plot you stumbled on, but I do know this: we’re up against professionals. If they think you can tell the Israeli government about their tunnels…”

  Siobhan interrupted him. “I’m not sure this is about tunnels, Cam.”

  “Why not?”

  She said, “I think this is about my find: the ancient inscription in those ruins. I think that’s why all this happened.”

  “But Siobhan, it’s probably fifteen hundred years old…”

  “I know, but Umar started shooting people right after we showed him the ruin. Literally, it was within moments of seeing it.”

  Cam countered, “If there was some evidence of Hamas tunnels near the ruin that might explain it, too.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t know any evidence like that is even there. I can’t imagine killing someone over something more than a thousand years old either, but the moment he saw it he started trying to kill me.”

  After a few moments quietly sipping coffee, Cameron said, “OK, let’s look into it further. I still don’t believe anyone is committing murder and terrorism over archaeology but maybe there’s something.

  “If there’s a clue here, I don’t know what it is. But I’ve got an idea. My old teacher at the tour guide school is much better at this kind of thing than I am. I want to go see him.”

  “Tour guide school?” Siobhan asked.

  “Technically known as the School of Tourism. His name is Ibrahim al Aziz. We go way back.”

  “Why him?” she asked.

  “We’re really close. He’s an old friend. He suggested the idea of becoming a tour guide to me when I got fired from Shin Bet. He’s not going to believe the accusations against me so at least we know he’ll talk to us.”

  Cam continued, “Also, Ibrahim knows languages. He taught me how to read Latin when I was becoming a tour guide, and that’s only one of the languages he knows.

  “Hopefully, he’ll do better than we did at spotting anything that stands out in the picture. There’s even a chance he’ll know what the inscription in your picture says. If we can translate that, we’ll have a real leg up in figuring out why anyone would kill over it.”

  **********

  The two of them sat in the dark back corner of the coffee shop until the sun set outside and they could leave in the darkness. With their faces all over the news, night seemed to offer the best hope of not being spotted and turned in to the police.

  Cam led the way, and Siobhan followed him out of the coffee shop. It seemed strange that her friend placed so much faith in his old instructor at tour guide school; on the other hand, it felt good to be going to see someone with at least a little archaeological knowledge.

  As they walked into the parking lot, Cameron stopped dead in his tracks. Siobhan almost ran into him. She stepped to the side to see around him.

  Standing in front of Cameron, holding a pistol aimed straight at his face, was a short man in a navy blue blazer. He was balding and what was left of his hair was half-gray and half-brown.

  “Eli?” Cam asked.

  “Why, Cameron? You can’t have been so mad about getting fired you’d turn into a terrorist. I thought I knew you better than that.”

  “I didn’t, Eli. We’re being framed. We’re innocent.”

  “I want to believe it,” the shorter man replied. “But I need more. You’ve got motive. Your DNA was all over that bomb. Your friend there has been calling Hamas people since she got to our country.”

  “I have not!” said Siobhan.

  “Eli, she doesn’t know anything about Hamas. She was just in one of my groups earlier this week. She’s just a tourist.”

  “That’s not what the phone records say.”

  “Eli, you know me. We worked together for years. I taught you everything…” Cam’s voice trailed off, and then he said, “That’s how you found us, isn’t it? I showed you all the good places in this town to get coffee.”

  Segal nodded his head and said, “You’ve been out too long, Cameron. You’ve gone soft. You forget how to do this job.”

  He paused, and then went on.

  “Cameron, I’ve got orders to bring yo
u in if it can be done without risk, but I have also been given the order to shoot you on the spot if it can’t. Godwin wants your head on a platter.”

  “Of course she does, man! You know about Godwin and me. She hasn’t liked me since she was disarming bombs in the marketplace.”

  “No, Cameron,” Segal replied. “This is different. She’s far different now. She seriously wants you dead. I came here myself because I’m the only guy in the Shin Bet who’s likely to bring you in alive. It’s bad enough your bomb killed a dozen people today, but you’re supposed to be one of us. Everyone else is talking about following the shoot on sight part of the order.

  “I need you to surrender and come in with me.”

  “Eli, listen to me. Siobhan discovered something. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t know why, but people have been trying to kill her ever since. That’s why we’re being framed.”

  “Discovered what?” Segal asked.

  “We’re not sure; some inscription at an archaeological dig.”

  Cam’s old partner narrowed his eyes, opened his mouth, and shook his head.

  “What? Kill her over something at an archaeological dig? Cam that’s crazy. That’s dumb tourist junk. Let’s just go back to Headquarters. You can sort this out with the Division for Interrogation.”

  “I can’t do that, Eli. I can’t let you put Siobhan in the interrogation facility. You and I both know what goes on in there.”

  Siobhan remembered Cameron pointing out the facility when they had toured Jerusalem. It was a very old building, from the time of the Turks.

  “Cam, please don’t make me do this.”

  “Eli, I’m sorry old friend, but she’s not going there. Not while I can do anything about it.”

  Cameron moved so fast Siobhan could barely follow it. He slapped the other man hard on the underside of the wrist holding the gun. At the same time, with his other hand, he grabbed the gun barrel and shoved it to his right, clenching the slide tightly in his closed fist.

  The gun went off once, pointed away from Cam and Siobhan. She screamed and so did a few passers-by. Then Cameron had it in his hand, somehow. He kicked the other agent in the groin, and then drove his knee into the man’s gut. Segal fell down to all fours, vomiting on the pavement.

  “I truly am sorry, Eli. I never wanted to do that.”

  Siobhan stood still, staring at the gun in Cam’s hand. Cam snapped the fingers of his free hand to get her attention.

  “Run as fast as you humanly can for as long as possible,” he said. “Take any series of turns you want. We need to clear the area before he calls in backup. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Siobhan ran off. Cam waited a second so he could pull Eli’s phone out of his pocket while his friend was still recovering from the fight. He discharged the weapon a second time, destroying the phone.

  Then Cameron ran after Siobhan.

  CHAPTER 16

  Ibrahim’s apartment wasn’t exactly close, but it was within walking distance. Even if it was a bit of a hike, Cameron wouldn’t let them take any kind of public transportation or his motorcycle. After a long dash that had Siobhan’s lungs feeling raw, Cam finally let them slow down to a walking pace.

  “If we weren’t on the top of the wanted list before, we will be as soon as Eli gets a report in,” he said. “I’d be shocked if they’re not waiting for us at my bike and getting on a bus increases our risk of being recognized. The walk to Ibrahim’s place isn’t any worse than what I made you walk on your first day in Jerusalem.”

  Siobhan smiled at the memory. That had been a fun, if exhausting, day. Then she remembered the scene in the coffee shop parking lot. Her smile faded at once.

  “Who was that man?” she asked.

  “Eli Segal was my partner when I was an agent. He helped me run down the evidence about Hamas starting a tunneling program in Jerusalem. He’s a good guy and a friend. I hated doing that to him.”

  “I’m sorry,” she replied. “You didn’t have to do it for me.”

  “Yes I did. Siobhan, I’ve been in the Shin Bet’s interrogation facility. I won’t let them do that to you.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” she said.

  Cam replied, “Look, the Hamas propaganda operation tries to convince the world Israel is some kind of semi-tyrannical state. They make a bunch of wild claims about people being tortured by the Shin Bet. It’s not like that. It might have been in the past, but today there’s an independent prosecutor working out of the Justice Ministry whose job is to prevent that kind of excess. The worst stories are just a bunch of lies from people who want to see Israel destroyed.

  “But it is a hard situation. We endure almost constant violence from terrorists. Every day, there’s a chance getting information out of a Hamas operative might save someone in Sederot from a rocket blast. There are schools there with chips in their walls from rocket attacks, Siobhan. Schools. We have to protect our children.

  “Under those circumstances, the division for interrogation doesn’t use torture. But they do use moderate physical pressure. Things like sleep deprivation and isolation. It’s not fun. I’m not letting you go through that.”

  “But I don’t like being the cause of you having to hurt your friend.”

  “Let’s not talk about Eli any more. Someday we’ll get things even between the two of us, but today’s not someday. Today it still feels rotten.”

  After that, they walked in silence.

  Jerusalem at night was a completely different experience from what she’d seen while touring with Cam. The character placing it unmistakably in the Middle East faded into the background. The low buildings of tan stone or white walls no longer looked so distinctive. Instead, it became more like most other cities — a constellation of winking lights made up of families in their homes.

  Admiring the beauty, Siobhan had trouble imagining the violence lurking just beneath the surface. Despite everything that had happened to her, at night, it seemed less real. Jerusalem at night looked peaceful.

  ********

  Haaris Toma cruised in a black sedan, watching a cell phone mounted on his dash. Around him, pedestrians laughed and walked on the sidewalk, enjoying a Saturday night.

  He watched as a young man and woman walked by hand in hand, too busy staring at each other to notice the passing motorist. Her head was barely covered by a scarf that was probably blue or turquoise in the light.

  He angrily whipped his head away from them and back to the road in front of him. He accelerated to leave them behind. They were like his father — perfectly content under Israeli control, not interested in the struggle.

  The memories from his school days bubbled up uninvited: the other boys mocking him and hitting him because his father was on television saying the Jewish government wasn’t so bad. The names they had called him and his family burned like touching a hot stove.

  His adult life traced a serpentine pathway of payback for all those old hurts: the others who had teased him, his father, and most of all the Jews for creating the whole situation. His work in Hamas was perfected his vengeance.

  Alone, he had been merely one more angry young man in a community full of them. Now, he was a warrior fighting for a people and a religion.

  Toma pulled his attention away from the past and returned it to the tiny glowing screen. He waited for information about his target.

  ********

  At last, they stood at the foot of a ten-story building. They waited as inconspicuously as they could for other tenants to enter and leave until at last there was a moment when the doorway was free of observers. Cam led the way forward and pushed the call button. After a second push, he finally got a reply.

  “Who is it?” asked a voice from the speaker.

  Cam replied, “It’s me, Ibrahim.”

  There followed a chuckle, and then the words, “I thought I might be seeing you tonight. The television tells me you probably don’t have many friends left. Come on up.”

  Siobhan followed Cam th
rough the door and to the elevator. As they rode up, she asked,

  “You’re absolutely certain you trust this person?”

  Cameron smiled at her and nodded. “Relax. He’s almost like an uncle to me. I met him when I was just getting started in Shin Bet.”

  They exited the elevator when it reached the tenth floor and walked down the hall to an open door. A gray-haired and gray-bearded man in sweat pants and a t-shirt greeted them with a smile. He embraced Cameron warmly.

  When Cam introduced her, the old man said, “Ah, the radical American I’ve been hearing so much about. Welcome. My home is yours.”

  He led them inside, went to the kitchen, and brought out a glass of apple juice for each of them. They took seats around his living room. Siobhan tried to be patient through the small talk. Ibrahim and Cam seemed to be making a great show of avoiding the actual reason for their visit. Eventually she gave up on paying attention to the conversation.

  She let her mind wander, taking in the art on Ibrahim’s walls. There was a picture of the Dome of the Rock and other landscapes. His wicker furniture with cushions seemed to fit the place well. Through his window, the night skyline drew her eye for a while.

  She snapped back to attention when she heard Cameron say, “So we wanted to show you the picture she took and see if you can read it.”

  Just as she was reaching for her smartphone, Siobhan heard the Muezzin calling people to prayer. It was a haunting melody in a language she didn’t understand. The sound was emblematic of her time in Jerusalem. She had never before heard it anywhere else except in movies. There, it was a constant device used to invoke the atmosphere of the Middle East.

  Ibrahim stood up.

  “Will you excuse me?” he asked, but he was on his way down the hall before either of them could answer. He had obviously left to heed the call to prayer.

  She turned to Cameron with her eyes wide. She asked, “This friend you trust so much is a Muslim?”

  Cam shrugged. “Sure. What’s the big deal?”