by Uzi Eilam
They were shown into an office where he was met by the steely eyes of a young man with a cleanly shaven head.
“Yitzhak Nahari,” he said, introducing himself to Gideon, who was shocked to see a man not much older than his son. Is the world getting younger, or am I getting old?
“Thanks for coming,” Nahari said without introducing Gideon to the three serious-looking people sitting with him around the conference table. He got straight to the point. “Although we’ve read the material we were sent from the States, we should start by you telling us in your own words. What happened there?”
Only now, hearing Nahari’s quiet, authoritative voice, did Gideon realize how tense he’d been before the meeting. He studied the man’s penetrating eyes and saw understanding and support. He sat up straight, took a deep breath, and told them about everything and everyone, describing the roles they had in the drama that had become his life. Everyone, that is, but Nurit. He didn’t mention her.
“Then you understand,” Nahari said when Gideon finished his review, “that you’re caught in the Revolutionary Guards’ crosshairs?”
“Yes, I certainly do.”
“And what do you know about them?”
“Actually, very little. Only what I could learn on the internet.”
“That’s quite a bit. Still, the issue is complex and requires great care.” Nahari’s voice sounded harder, more distant. “I think that a day learning the subject in depth is required. Haim,” he turned to the young man who was taking the minutes,“please set this up.”
“That sounds interesting,” Gideon said. “But I need to learn how to behave with Ryan and the investors, whether real or fake, when I return to Stanford. I’m very concerned about this matter.”
“Don’t worry,” Nahari said calmly, “we’ll equip you with all you need to conduct yourself in a way that won’t get their guard up or cause us any damage.”
“There’s something else. Ryan’s investors have asked me to send them a summary of my research and an overview of my plans for further research in order to be eligible, they said, for a grant.”
“Yes, we know about that too,” Nahari interrupted Gideon gently. “While you’re here for a few days, we’ll give you a crash course in sophisticated deception and the basics of cyberwar. Benjamin,” he pointed to the second young man sitting next to Haim ,“will organize that part of your training.” Nahari allowed himself to smile. “You’re in good hands, and you’ll be equipped with all you require. We don’t underestimate the talent and ability of the Revolutionary Guards. By the end of the week, you’ll know as much as if you were one of them… And how to stay out of harm’s way.”
31.
The meeting room at the Ministry of Defense’s missile defense organization, IMDO, was full of army officers and civilians. Arieh from the directorate had kept the promise he’d made at the conference in San Francisco and organized the meeting for Gideon to speak.
“We’d like to welcome Dr. Gideon Ben-Ari. We’re all familiar with the original and important research he’s doing at SRI. Thank you, Gideon, for agreeing to present the central points of your research here. As we all know, your research is relevant to our own field, and we’re sure to have an interesting morning. But first, let’s begin with brief reviews of our own activities.”
One by one, the project leaders painted a picture that stunned Gideon. He was especially impressed by the developments in long-range missile tracking and intercepting, although they still had quite a way to go.
“What about communication?” Gideon asked when the reviews were over. “I understand that handling so many sensors and transmitting commands to a large number of batteries requires a high volume of data transmission. Don’t you have a problem with this? And another issue that to me seems problematic is dealing with missile salvos.”
No one said a word as all eyes turned to Arieh, who took a deep breath. “The volume of data transmission, Gideon, and its protection is being dealt with by a special project that you are aware of. We’re supervising it, as you know, in collaboration with the Pentagon.”
Aha! Gideon thought. This is where Yudke comes into the picture…
“The bottom line,” Arieh assured him, “is that we’ll have a satisfactory solution very soon.”
Gideon didn’t let it go. “The system will be required to handle huge quantities of data, and that load will be added to when handling simultaneous salvos of incoming missiles. If we don’t prepare for this, our innovations will be of no value.”
“Who does he think he is, preaching to us?” Gideon heard a venomous whisper through the murmurs around the table. Gideon suddenly felt like they saw him as an outsider, even a troublemaker. He looked with concern at Arieh, who glanced back apologetically.
“Please!” Arieh raised his voice. “Gideon Ben-Ari has put his finger on a real issue. You, Gideon,” he continued with a smile, “know the answer better than anyone else in this room.”
The tension in the room dropped noticeably, as people smiled sheepishly. Arieh continued, his eyes on Gideon. “I believe that was a good introduction to your lecture.”
Gideon spoke for over an hour and a half, all eyes transfixed on him.
“Gideon, what do you say to lunch with a few of us one day, before you go back?” Arieh suggested when they were done.
Moti nodded his head enthusiastically. “We’ll invite Bentzi from Rafael—you remember him from San Francisco, right?”
They want to know more, Gideon thought, and I can’t blame them. There’s no reason not to meet with them.
“Great idea, Arieh,” he replied. “We just have to arrange a time and place that’ll fit in with the meetings I have lined up.”
***
At noon, Messa on Ha’arba’ah Street was dead. Gideon noticed Arieh, Moti, and Bentzi waiting at a corner table as soon as he walked in. He wondered what they really wanted to know and if they were going to try to find out more confidential details of his algorithm… Details he hadn’t mentioned in the lecture.
“Hi, Gideon!” Arieh exclaimed happily as Gideon walked toward them.
“What do you think of this place? It’s one of the newer restaurants in the city. And being so close to the Kirya army base makes it very popular with the Ministry of Defense.”
A sweet, young waitress took their orders after Gideon allowed Arieh to choose for him, enjoying the element of surprise.
He was feeling the strain of the marathon of meetings, and only two days remained before he’d be flying back to California. He was also feeling the distance between SRI and the local Israeli scene. He didn’t want to be arrogant, but he did feel like he was on another level. The petty criticism he’d received at the meeting a few days earlier had infuriated him. What did they think, that they knew better than the rest of the world? He thought.
“So, Arieh,” Gideon said, eager to get to the point, “what did you want to discuss today?”
“Missile defense, but not directly related to the developments you’re working on…”
“I’m listening,” Gideon said.
“We’ve received intelligence from good sources that the Iranians are developing long-range missiles, according to which the Revolutionary Guards have hired the services of the artillery expert, the late Dr. Gerald Bull. Now we all know that Bull was working closely with Saddam Hussein and that he contributed greatly to building up the Al-Hussein missile system. Now, our sources tell us, that his corporation—SRC—is working for the Iranians. And we know that they’ve already helped them with the transition to solid fuel for their new missiles.”
“That’s very bad news,” Gideon responded. “Are you sure of its credibility?”
“Yes. We’re concerned mainly about Iran developing missiles that can evade the defense systems we and you are working on.” Arieh stressed every word. “We have no problem intercepting ‘dumb’ mi
ssiles. Our concern is the introduction of more sophisticated technology in missiles that are already able to reach our territory. And that’s why we decided to form a team to assess the risk.”
“Who’s on the team?”
“The three leading members are sitting right here,” Arieh said with a smile.
“And where do I fit in?” Gideon tried to keep his tone light.
“Gideon, you’re very familiar with Gerald Bull’s company,” Moti said. “What in particular should we be careful of?”
“We have to find out how advanced Bull’s company’s developments are and what capabilities they provide the Revolutionary Guards with,” Arieh added.
“SRC, with or without Bull,” Gideon thought out loud, “can provide the Iranians with the experience they’ve gained in developing and manufacturing weapon systems in South Africa and Iraq. Bull was an aeronautical engineering genius, and we remember that he convinced Saddam Hussein to invest in developing a ‘supergun’ for firing hundreds of kilos into space or thousands of kilometers away. Bull left behind a legacy that includes the knowledge base behind the supergun’s technology and SRC’s impressive success in developing the Al-Hussein. That legacy is the dowry that Bull’s students bring to Iran. In my opinion, their creativity and Bull’s corporation’s ability to improvise could jeopardize the latest developments we’ve been working on. And that would be a real danger!”
“Thanks, Gideon,” Arieh said. “You’ve been a big help. We value the information you’ve shared with us.” Moti and Bentzi nodded their heads in agreement. “Your help will be noted in our report. Someone up above will have to work toward eliminating the inherent danger posed by the work that Bull’s corporation is doing for the Iranians.”
Whereas I, Gideon thought, would rely more on our partners in the United States…
32.
Ryan walked briskly down Grant Avenue, glancing left and right and behind him to make sure no one was following him. He didn’t feel any pleasure like he usually did from the exotic smells, colors, and sights that bustling Chinatown had to offer. He was troubled, wondering why he’d been summoned to an urgent meeting. He walked past the Grant Plaza Hotel and arrived at number 469. The street-level family shops were humming. He heard mostly Chinese and thought how well the Revolutionary Guards had chosen their hideaway. Ryan gave the secret knock and waited impatiently, knowing full well he was being inspected.
“Good morning, Rustam,” Farid Madhani welcomed him, giving Ryan a sweaty handshake.
There’s something serious on his mind, Ryan thought as he turned to shake Arash Jafari’s hand.
“Welcome,” Jafari said. “I’m glad that you could make it on such short notice.”
He also looks tense, Ryan noticed. Am I the reason? I haven’t made as much progress as I promised General Jamsheedi when he visited. But what more could I have done? I can’t get everything they want…
“What’s up, Farid?” Ryan asked, almost whispering.
“General Jamsheedi isn’t pleased with our progress,” Madhani replied, “and that’s putting it mildly…”
“The general’s R&D assistant spoke with us at length,” Jafari said. “We received a long encrypted message from him claiming that there are problems developing the long-range missiles themselves, and that’s in addition to the concern about the advanced defense system that the Americans and Israelis are developing.”
“I was sure that the developments on our side were going smoothly,” Ryan said. “Are they experiencing difficulties with evasion and autopilot systems? Could they fail because of the defensive means that the Israelis and Americans are developing?”
“That’s right. We sent a detailed message to Tehran that included your optimistic progress reports, but also the difficulties we’re experiencing in gathering more intelligence on the Callnet card.”
“And then the general got involved?” Ryan guessed as a chill ran down his spine.
“Exactly,” Madhani confirmed weakly. “I won’t repeat the harsh words he fired at us, and at you. We must make progress and show results soon! It’s for our sacred cause but also for the personal safety of each of us.”
Ryan didn’t respond. He was trying to think of some way to appease the general.
“Maybe you can get your computer whiz involved again?” Madhani said. “I remember that he did a great job on the woman’s computer.”
Madhani could be right, Ryan thought, and it may be the only way to increase the pressure on Nurit. It’s probably the only way I can help right now.
He straightened up and looked at his two contacts. They looked despondent.
“I’ll take care of it,” he told Madhani and Jafari. “I’ll make sure more pressure is put on Mrs. Avni. I’ll also see how we can access their computers. At the same time, we should look for ways to get to her husband, Dr. Yehuda Avni. You can pass this information on to the general, and I’m convinced that one way or another, we’ll succeed.”
“You have our support,” Madhani said enthusiastically. “If you need any financial aid or further information, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Ryan shook their hands and noted to himself that Madhani no longer seemed as troubled as he’d seemed at the beginning of the meeting. They’re relying on me, he thought, but can I really guarantee success?
***
It was late, and even Arlene and Phyllis had packed up for the evening. Nurit collected her things and headed for the parking lot. An unexpected cloudburst caught her unprepared, and she made a dash for the car, hoping to get there before she was wet to the bone. She quickly opened the door, got in, and started the engine. The back door swung open, and a man in a dripping-wet raincoat and a ski mask got in and closed the door, startling Nurit.
“Don’t do a thing,” the man warned her in Hebrew, but with a blatantly American accent, “and listen carefully.”
“Who are you? How dare you burst into my..” Nurit blurted out, trying not to lose her composure.
“Who I am is not your business,” the stranger interrupted her. “What really matters is what you have to do.”
“I don’t understand. What do you want?” Nurit said stubbornly.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get your hands on the Callnet electronic card.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“I’ll be in touch, and I’ll let you know where to take it.”
“You’re mistaken. I don’t know a thing about electronics. I’m a student here, at the university.”
“I suggest you check with the men in your life.” The stranger slipped out of the car and disappeared into the rainy night.
Petrified, Nurit sat in the car for a long time. Something about that man was familiar. The smell of his aftershave? His voice? Eventually, she pulled herself together and drove off. Her mind was blank. She wanted only one thing: to get to the safety of her home.
***
Gideon! she thought as soon as she opened the door and fell into an armchair with a glass of wine in her hand. Only he can help. Francois was far from her thoughts at the time, irrelevant. She looked at the antique clock on the wall and noticed that it was only seven in the evening. Gideon would still be at work. She felt her hand shake as she dialed his number, and she tightened her grip on the receiver.
“Hi, Nuri,” he said slowly and calmly.
“Gideon…someone jumped into my car… It was pouring rain…he demanded details about some card…” Nurit couldn’t calm down. “Can you come over now? I don’t know what to do…” She couldn’t get the image of the dripping-wet stranger out of her mind.
“Are you at your apartment? In Berkeley?”
“Yes, I’m here…”
“I’m on my way, Nuri. Make yourself a cup of sweet hot tea. I’ll be there in no time,” Gideon reassured her.
“Drive carefull
y, Gidi, I’m waiting…”
There wasn’t much traffic on the highway, and Gideon sped the whole way, ignoring Nurit’s request to drive carefully. Within forty minutes, he was standing in her doorway, holding her tightly. She was still trembling.
“Let’s sit down, Nuri, and tell me what happened…” He summoned all his strength to sound calm and level-headed.
Gideon said nothing as Nurit told him all the details, stressing how the man had told her to ask the men in her life.
“I’m so afraid, Gidi.”
“You’re home now, Nuri, and no one will hurt you,” Gideon said, despite the heavy feeling of foreboding in his heart. “I’m right here beside you.”
Gideon kissed her tenderly on the forehead as he cradled her in his arms like a baby. “Let’s have a drink, and I’ll make us something to eat.”
Gideon went to the kitchen and soon returned with two glasses of white wine and a small tray of sandwiches. “First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll discuss this incident with the security officials. They’ll know what to do, and remember—I’m always here.”
Only after Nurit relaxed did he allow himself to worry.
33.
Yoni Feldman sat in his office at the consulate and asked his secretary not to disturb him. He was reading a confidential report that he’d just received from their code room, meant for his eyes only.
They’ve done a thorough job, he thought as he read the investigation summaries and the briefings they’d given to Gideon during his time in Israel. At the end of the document, there were a few lines regarding the short meeting they held with Dr. Yehuda Avni. The last sentence included an explicit recommendation intended for Yoni: to free himself of all other obligations and to focus on thwarting the efforts of the Revolutionary Guards. Their goals, the report emphasized, include Dr. Gideon Ben-Ari and his algorithm, Dr. Yehuda Avni, his smart card, and his wife, Nurit Avni. “You must continue to coordinate all your activities with the American team led by the FBI” was the final instruction. Well, the instructions are as clear as daylight. They leave no room for misunderstanding, Yoni thought.
