by Bryan Murray
CHAPTER 6
Back in Hollywood, the funeral was being held in an elegant Beverly Hills cemetery for the two dead movie stars. The world’s media were in attendance and, as in every sad Hollywood event, it seemed like everybody and his brother had turned out, hoping to grab a sound or video bite to impact their present or past careers and clearly a funeral was no exception. Old film stars, with multiple plastic surgeries struggling to hold their faces together, as well as young starlets, parading their boob jobs and Botox, who simply needed exposure of any kind, were also gathered in the cemetery.
By far the largest number of people in attendance, however, were the extremely strong Jewish community in Hollywood and in particular, those producers, actors and directors who were close friends of Zach Jacobs and Star of David Productions.
Both Zach and Abe Goldzung and their wives, all dressed in black, were gathered at the graveside, as the Rabbi was consoling the grieving parents of the two young stars. To one side, the young actor, Johnny, who had fired the lethal shots with the switched ammunition, was standing in the background like a lost soul. Abe Goldzung excused himself from his wife and went over to Johnny, giving him a hug of encouragement. “It’s all behind us, son,” he whispered. “We gotta keep on goin’. It wasn’t your fault, okay?” The young man nodded sadly.
For Zach Jacobs, it had been a day of loss in more ways than one. Firstly, the loss of two mega stars, young kids that he had discovered and nurtured into major box office producers. Secondly, it had been a day of financial loss in view of the fact that his movie, with over $120 million spent, was virtually in the toilet. His expectations of the final box office for the movie had been huge, he had leveraged every cent of backing he could get his hands on, and now it all looked like it was ebbing away like sand in an hour glass.
On the road leading up to the cemetery, as the fans gathered at the curb, hoping to catch a glimpse of the VIP occupants of the passing limos of the mourners, Akeem was standing there, a cruel look on his face.
CHAPTER 7
Outside Los Angeles International Airport, it was business as usual as the bustling airport was going about its regular routine. In the upper parking lot, a small grey sedan pulled up and Akeem got out. He locked the car and headed towards the check-in area, carrying a bulky newspaper in his hand.
He checked his watch as he merged with the other departing passengers as they all walked into the busy terminal. Under a sign showing ‘Air Israel’, he entered through the automatic doors, past the curbside baggage checkers and into the main terminal area where he walked down towards the check-in area.
Outside the terminal, a sleek touring coach pulled up and a group of influential-looking businessmen, clearly Jewish, of varying ages, climbed down and they were all escorted into the terminal by the airport diplomatic staff. Their baggage was whisked away and they were quickly ushered through security in the direction of the Air Israel gates.
Down the terminal, nearer the baggage area, Akeem, still carrying the bulky newspaper in his hand, walked up to a bench and sat down. He held on to the tightly folded newspaper and quickly checked his watch.
Seconds later, a door about twenty feet away from him, with the sign stating ‘Authorized Personnel Only’ painted on it, opened and the dark-haired, swarthy-looking guy, seen earlier on the day that Akeem had arrived, emerged.
He was wearing a hard hat and the ID badge and uniform of the airport maintenance personnel. He walked over to a nearby vending machine and bought a candy bar, as if he was taking a break, before sitting down next to Akeem. The two men completely ignored each other.
In the hectic operations of the airport, the security personnel would have been devastated if they had known that the original occupant of the maintenance crew uniform, that the guy next to Akeem was now wearing, a single, white Caucasian of similar looks, was now lying dead back in his bachelor apartment after being tracked there by Akeem’s intel group.
Once his gate key codes and procedures to get into the airport maintenance facility had been tortured out of him, he had then been terminated and the overworked maintenance supervisor for the late afternoon shift, had not even checked to see that the ID photo on the badge of the dark-haired guy, although similar, was not him.
Akeem sat there, head bowed as if he was asleep, and next to him the dark-haired guy opened his candy bar and took a bite, smiling at a young child walking past with his mother.
On board the huge Air Israel jet, the group of Jewish businessmen were making their way to their assigned seats and the senior Airport VIP Courtesy Official was talking to the leader of the commercial delegation. “Well, Simon,” she began. “I hope you all have a safe trip back. It’s been a pleasure having you here in LAX.”
Simon, an older, distinguished-looking Israeli, with greying hair, shook hands with the Official. “Thank you. As usual the arrangements were outstanding. We are so grateful.” The Official left tactfully and the stewardesses were already bringing pre-flight cocktails to the business delegation.
In the departure area of the terminal, Akeem finally stood up to leave, but before doing so, he slid the folded newspaper with its deadly explosive device inside it, a few inches closer to the seat of the dark haired guy next to him, who was finishing his candy bar. Akeem walked casually away, down the terminal.
On board Air Israel Flight 169, the stewardesses were now closing the doors on the large jet and the passengers were settling down for the long flight into Jerusalem.
Down below, among the baggage conveyors that were delivering the final bags on pre-programmed conveyors to each gate, the dark-haired guy looked round furtively before quickly unzipping a passing pre-checked bag, removing the explosive device from the newspaper in his hand, its green light showing, and slipping it into the bag before re-zipping it. The bag continued on its way along the conveyor under a gate with ‘Air Israel’ written on a sign above it and within minutes, the checked bag was on its way into the hold of Air Israel Flight 169.
After taxying in line, behind other departing jets, the Air Israel jet finally made it to its take-off slot at the end of the main runway. The giant engines roared as it quickly accelerated up into the spectacular California sunset before it headed east over the San Bernardino Mountains.
Seconds later, a blinding explosion tore the huge aircraft apart, as it blew up in the air with burning debris scattering into the golden sky, raining down onto the unsuspecting mountains below.
Back in LAX Control Tower, there was immediate panic as the Traffic Controller escorting the flight on its way, suddenly lost contact with Flight 169 and in the clear desert sky in the distance, he could now see the massive fireball as it descended to the mountains below. He grabbed the communications microphone to his boss. “Mayday! Mayday! Aerial explosion on Flight 169!” he screamed.
From that second onwards, the whole airport descended into a state of total chaos. Airport police, TSA and the local police were all called in immediately and the FBI in LA, together with Nick Peters and the CTCIB unit, were already on the way within minutes. In the midst of the mayhem, the guy with the dark hair, his uniform and hard hat now removed, mingled with the crowds exiting the terminal.
Family members who were still in the terminal when they heard the news, were screaming in anguish. They were already on their cell phones, weeping and screaming, as the magnitude of what had just happened started to sink in to a shocked America.
CNN were already in the hunt and like in all major catastrophes, the media giants were rushing their billboard reporters to LAX, each looking for a better video bite than the competition as the world was learning the sad news.
In a quiet hotel room in LA, the CNN broadcast was running with the air disaster story and two men were watching the transmission. They were Akeem and the dark-haired guy from the terminal. They looked on and raised their glasses in a silent toast.
The dark-haired guy clicked open his phone and dialled a number. A faint voice answered. “Yes?” The
dark-haired guy whispered. “It’s done!” before he clicked the phone off.
CHAPTER 8
In Washington. DC, the President had already retired for the night when the first news of the air disaster was relayed to his chief-of-staff. A decision was made to wake the President, who was briefed immediately before placing a call to his friend, David Mischner, the Israeli Prime Minister.
By this time, the full impact of the accident, as it was still being called, was now starting to emerge. In addition to 150 of the regular passengers killed in the disaster, the entire delegation of top Israeli industrialists had also been killed and their various large companies in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem were about to receive the dreadful news.
When David Mischner, white-haired, distinguished-looking in his 60’s, had received the call from the US President, he had been devastated at what had initially seemed like an accident and he immediately called Ari Golchen, the Defense Minister with the sad news as Mischner in Jerusalem and Golchen in Tel Aviv, then video conferenced each other under tight security, to discuss their plan of attack.
Mischner was very sceptical about the disaster being an accident. “What do you think, Ari?’ he asked his colleague. “Could this really be an accident?”
Golchen was already in the war room inside the defense ministry as the two senior politicians continued their discussion. “It’s very early days, Prime Minister,” he replied. “But we should know very quickly.”
Even as he spoke, one of his senior agents came into the war room and handed a piece of paper to Golchen. The minister read it and looked at the video screen, where Mischner was in conversation with his aide in Jerusalem. He interrupted them. “I’m afraid we have a problem, Prime Minister.”
Mischner looked up. “We do?”
“Yes, sir. We just received a claim of responsibility for the disaster!” Ari replied.
Mischner looked suddenly devastated. “Who was it?”
Ari explained. “Apparently ‘Hands of Allah’ have taken responsibility, sir!”
Mischner was in shock. “And this is confirmed, Ari?”
Golchen nodded. “E-mailed to us direct, Prime Minister!” he looked at the beleaguered Prime Minister in Jerusalem, as another Senior Aide came into the Prime Minister’s office and gave him a message. “Our Ambassador from LA is on the line, Prime Minister, he said it was very urgent.”
Mischner nodded that he would take the call and picked up the phone nearby. “Yes, Ambassador?” he inquired.
In the LA embassy, the Ambassador, a small, balding man with glasses, spoke to the Prime Minister. He cleared his throat. “Good morning, Mr. Prime Minister, I’m deeply sorry to have to report that your brother took the earlier flight back to Tel Aviv!”
Mischner looked confused. “Which flight was that, ambassador?”
There was a pause before the Ambassador answered. “Flight 169, Prime Minister, he wanted to travel with the President of the Bank of Israel!” The Ambassador was sweating profusely as he continued. “That was the flight that exploded, Prime Minister. The entire senior trade delegation, including Simon were on board! I’m so desperately sorry, sir!”
Back in Jerusalem, as Ari Golchen watched the video link from Tel Aviv, Mischner was suddenly rooted to the spot, a man suddenly lost, speechless, standing there like a statue with the phone still in his hand.
“Oh, my goodness!” was all he could say.
Looking at the screen in Tel Aviv, Ari could sense that something was terribly wrong. “Is everything all right, Prime Minister?” he asked
Mischner looked at him. “It’s Simon, Ari, he got an earlier flight! He was travelling with the entire business delegation. I don’t believe it!”
Golchen was devastated. “I’m so dreadfully sorry, David, our hearts go out to you and your family. What do you want to do?”
Mischner thought for a moment, still trying to play the elder statesman while his heart was torn apart. His younger brother Simon, the man saying farewell to the airport official in LAX, was his closest friend and confidant. Together, they had forged what was a new exciting outlook for Israel, and the thought of not having his brother by his side, was drowning him in mind-numbing sorrow. He thought for a moment before replying.
“We have to be dynamic, statesmanlike and positive, Ari. We need to get our top counter-terrorism operative on a plane to the US immediately, to liaise with the FBI and the CIA and you need to give him a support team.”
Golchen was thinking out loud. “I know just the operative, Prime Minister and I also have two specialists, one ex-FBI and one ex-CIA, currently over here, training our operatives. I would like to use them as independent consultants, in view of their US background, until we get to the bottom of this affair.”
Mischner nodded in agreement on the screen. “Good idea, Ari. Let’s move fast on this and can you make sure they are well received in LA?”
Golchen nodded. “Of course, sir. I’ll have them on a flight by noon. And again, Prime Minister, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all the people on the flight and especially Simon, he was an inspiration to us all.”
Mischner nodded sadly. “Thank you, stay in touch.” he clicked off the video link and Ari looked at the black screen, a venomous look in his eye. “Hands of Allah!” he hissed.
CHAPTER 9
Daniel was watching early morning TV as he ate his breakfast in his apartment and details of the air disaster in California were all over the news. His telephone rang and he answered. “This is Daniel?”
The voice on the other end was his superior, Agent Kofar. “Daniel, did you see the news in LA?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.” Daniel replied.
His boss continued. “Good, you’re wanted at the Ministry of Defense immediately. Minister Golchen wants to see you and you need to pick up the two American consultants and take them with you.”
Daniel was already quickly slurping the last of his coffee. “Yes, sir, I’ll be right there.” he grabbed his jacket and brief case and hurried out.
Jake and Sarah were finishing breakfast in their hotel dining room as Daniel came rushing in. Jake saw him approaching with a concerned look on his face. “Morning, Daniel, is everything all right?” he asked.
Daniel was brief and courteous. “Morning Jake, Sarah, I take it you’ve seen the news of the plane disaster in LA?”
They both nodded. “We’re so, sorry, Daniel,” Sarah replied. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
Daniel nodded. “As a matter of fact there is. We’ve all been summoned to meet with Minister Golchen in his office immediately!”
Both Jake and Sarah rose from the table and Sarah was already thinking things through. “Do you have any idea what the meeting is about, Daniel?”
The young agent nodded negatively. “Not at the moment. If you’re both ready, we need to go!” They both nodded in agreement and quickly followed him out of the restaurant as Jake hurriedly signed the tab.
Rushing across town in Daniel’s car, Jake was trying to get a grasp of what was going on. He re-capped as much as he and Sarah had heard to see if Daniel had heard anymore. “Obviously the press don’t have the full story, Daniel, but it certainly sounds like this was some kind of terrorist attack?”
Daniel was in agreement. “Exactly, the ‘Hands of Allah’ group have already claimed responsibility!”
Sarah was deep in thought. “How did they submit the claim?”
Daniel replied quickly. “By e-mail!”
Sarah looked quickly at Jake. “Isn’t that unusual, Daniel? I would have thought it would have been released by Al Jazeera or some other network?”
Daniel nodded in agreement. “That sounds more logical, I agree!”
They pulled up at the security gate of the Ministry of Defense and after a detailed security scan, they drove quickly into the complex and parked.
Once inside, they were rushed to the office of Ari Golchen, where he was already in conversation with his senior advisors. When he sa
w the trio arrive, he ended his conversation with his colleagues and ushered all three of them to a seat.
He looked like he had been up all night. “Good morning, lady and gentlemen,” he began. “You have no doubt seen the news of the airline bombing in Los Angeles?”
Daniel replied. “Yes, Minister.”
Sarah could see the stress her uncle was under. “We are so sorry, Minister.”
Golchen nodded. “Thank you,” before adding. “The reason I’ve asked you in this morning is to tell you what we intend to do,” he paused. “That’s if you and Sarah are in agreement, Jake?”
Jake and Sarah quickly exchanged glances as Ari continued. He turned to Daniel. “Agent Weismann, the Prime Minister and I would like you to handle our response to this disaster as point man and Mr. Harrigan and Ms. Schaumberg, we would like you to postpone your current training assignment and ask you to act as back-up support for Agent Weismann, in view of your US ties and background knowledge.”
Jake and Sarah looked quickly at each other. A contract of this magnitude, was an unbelievable opportunity for their fledgling company and incredible exposure for the two of them. They both gave an imperceptible nod of agreement. Jake turned to Ari. “We’d be delighted to try and help Agent Weismann, Minister. Is there any more information you can give us?”
Ari suddenly looked sad. “Well, as I’m sure you already know, there was a delegation of senior Israeli industrialists killed on the flight, which is a devastating loss to a number of vital, large Israeli organisations, but in addition, we also received the devastating news late last night, that the Prime Minister’s brother Simon, was also on the flight!”
Daniel, Jake and Sarah were in shock, Daniel was the first to respond. “We are so sorry to hear that, Minister. Now this is really personal!”
Ari nodded. “Exactly, your flight leaves at noon and you will be met by the FBI, CIA and the Los Angeles Counter-Terrorism and Criminal Intelligence Bureau.”
