by Uzi Eilam
“Okay, sir.” Jeff cleared his throat before he began. “After working thirty-six hours around the clock, we found very sophisticated software, a worm that at this point was still dormant but could have been activated in an instant. The damage it could have caused to your systems,” he looked at Dr. Deutsch, “may have possibly neutralized the operational system entirely. In addition,” he continued calmly, in contrast to the severity of the issue, “we found that the fingerprint of the worm in your files is a more sophisticated version of the worm on Mrs. Avni’s computer.”
“And what’s the situation now, Jeff?” O’Connor asked. “Please, tell these good people where we stand.”
“Yes, sir,” Jeff continued. “We’ll complete the development of tools to clean up your entire system by the end of the day. By that time, we’ll also have new security software that we believe will protect it from future threats. We should be able to begin cleaning up the system and installing the defense tonight.” He looked at O’Connor for confirmation.
“Thanks, Jeff,” O’Connor said. “I think the situation is clear and requires action and vigilance from us all. We must focus on finding the source of this attack, and we have one clue, which is the partial similarity between the two attacks. We’ll take care of it.”
There were no questions. O’Connor thanked everyone and parted with a handshake. He gave Gideon’s a stronger handshake than usual and added a few words of thanks. “I take my hat off to you, Gideon. We owe you! See you at the institute.”
“This war isn’t over,” Yoni told Gideon as they drove back to the consulate.
Yes, we’re still fighting, Gideon said to himself, but he felt a little more reassured.
37.
John O’Connor’s spacious corner office had a view of Golden Gate Avenue on one side and Polk Street on the other. The city noise didn’t reach the FBI’s West Coast offices on the thirteenth floor. What a spectacular view, Yoni thought when he compared it to the view he had from his own office. These bastards know how to pick their spot…
“I’m sorry for calling you over on such short notice,” O’Connor said to Deutsch and Yoni when they arrived.
“Don’t worry about it,” Deutsch said as he looked from O’Connor to Yoni and the other man at the table. “I’m sure there’s a good reason.”
“We took care of the cyber threats at SRI, but the developments at New Horizons are as important.”
If that’s the case, Yoni wondered, why isn’t Yudke here?
“Allow me to introduce George Lyall, the security officer at New Horizons. I believe that Yonatan Feldman from the Israeli consulate and Dr. Gerald Deutsch require no introduction.”
Yoni waited impatiently for the customary handshaking to be over and then said, “What’s up, John? We’re listening.”
Deutsch didn’t say a word, and his face revealed nothing as he waited for O’Connor to begin.
“The Iranians are moving,” O’Connor began. “We intercepted a signal indicating that they’ve started moving forces very quickly. You’ll see and hear what I’m talking about very soon.” He pulled a tiny recorder out of his pocket. “I thought, in light of this,” he continued in a sharp staccato, “we should update each other and coordinate the moves each of us makes, each in their own fields.”
There’s movement… They’re moving forces… Yoni thought doubtfully. Trust the Revolutionary Guards to deceive the Americans and us.
O’Connor, as if reading Yoni’s thoughts, said, “We intercepted a few phone calls between Ryan Davis and Farid Madhani, his contact. They are greatly distressed by the slow progress they’re making in getting ahold of information. The call you’re about to hear is between General Mohammad Ali Jamsheedi and his man on the West Coast, Arash Jafari.”
Tense silence filled the room as O’Connor turned on the recorder. “Look at the screen,” he told them. “The conversation was transcribed, and I’ll project it on the screen as you listen.”
Deutsch, Yoni, and even George Lyall sat up straight in their chairs.
“Peace be upon you, Arash Jafari,” they heard General Jamsheedi say.
“And upon you be peace, General, and Allah’s blessing on you,” Jafari replied weakly.
“We have not heard a word of progress from you!” the general stated in a threatening tone. “It’s time to fulfill your promises. Don’t force me to replace you at this point. You know what that would mean…”
“Sir, General,” Jafari said, his voice quivering, “we have good news. Dr. Ben-Ari has handed over the summary of his research at SRI to Rustam Davidian.”
Dr. Deutsch shifted uneasily in his chair when the institute’s name was mentioned. He knew about the changes that had been made to the version the Iranians had received and remembered that Gideon had given it to him to check beforehand. Yet he felt no relief from the strain.
“I’ve known that since yesterday,” the general whispered threateningly. “I want to hear about the card!” He spat the last word out loudly.
“Rustam is still working…on getting the card… And he says there’s a chance it’ll work out,” Jafari stuttered, barely audible.
“You tell Rustam right now that I’m asking for information on the card within a week at the most,” Jamsheedi ordered, “and you, Arash Jafari, will implement the second plan immediately.”
“General Jamsheedi,” Jafari said, “do you mean the Berkeley Plan?”
“Exactly. We discussed it during my visit, and you will make sure that it is put into action immediately!”
The call ended, and the screen went blank. O’Connor waited as he examined his guests digesting the information. “You’ll agree that we have a new situation here,” he said. “Ryan’s success in dodging the surveillance we have on him, both physical and by tapping, indicates that he is sophisticated and probably very experienced. It all looks more dangerous than we thought. Dr. Deutsch,” he said without warning, “I’d like to hear your opinion. What do you think we should do in light of what we just heard?”
Deutsch looked up and around the table. He cleared his throat, unusual for him, and seemed to gather his scattered thoughts.
“They’re serious,” Deutsch began. “We mustn’t underestimate their capabilities or their determination to obtain information. Where this involves the institute, we can feel safer. The material that Gideon gave them was thoroughly cleaned up in Israel before Gideon returned, and I, too, went through it carefully. There’s no need for concern.”
“And what about other elements?” O’Connor asked. “What do you think of the efforts they’re making to get information on the card?”
“I think we should be concerned that they’ve realized just how important the card is and have their minds set on obtaining the data they need. I’m not involved enough in the efforts they’ve made to get hold of Dr. Avni’s card. As far as that’s concerned, you know better than I do.”
“And what about continuing to watch Ryan?” O’Connor didn’t let up. “Do you think, as a scientist involved in the project, that he’s already completed his technical scientific part or that there’s further data that he’ll try to get hold of?”
“I don’t know enough to answer that,” Deutsch said. “Personally, I don’t think he’s finished collecting material, and I believe he is most certainly dangerous. We must also remember that he’s the only one walking around here with a good cover story, whereas his operators have to act in secret, which holds them back.”
“Then what you’re saying, Gerald,” O’Connor said after thinking for a while, “is that the option we discussed in Quantico could be relevant?”
“Yes, John, it’s relevant,” Deutsch said without elaborating.
What do they mean? Yoni wondered. I was at those meetings in Quantico, and I heard nothing about any options. Did they meet to discuss it in another forum, without us? And what role does Deutsch
have in the options that to me seem strictly operational?
“George,” O’Connor said, “do you have any updates to share with us?”
“Well, sir,” George Lyall began deferentially, “after the break-in to Dr. Avni’s house, we tightened security procedures in general, especially those concerning the data relating to Callnet. The files copied from Avni’s computer during the break-in didn’t contain sensitive information, as you know. Dr. Avni says he’s being more careful than ever to protect the data. He also told me that his wife knows nothing about his work.”
“Yoni,” O’Connor said, “we’d like to hear what you have to say.”
“Sure, John,” Yoni replied without hesitation, putting his own questions aside for the time being. “I agree with your reasoning that Ryan is still dangerous. It’s also true that, at this stage, the security for Gideon’s research is pretty good. But…this is true for the moment. We’ve already seen the intelligence capabilities of the Revolutionary Guards, and we mustn’t underestimate them.”
Yoni stopped for a moment and looked around, gauging their expressions. “Regarding Callnet, the Iranians do have their eye on it, and we all heard the pressure General Jamsheedi put on his people. Dr. Avni will continue to be a target.” He looked at George Lyall. “And perhaps we should consider physical protection. Another intelligence target is Nurit Avni. We heard about the threatening phone calls regarding Callnet. I wouldn’t take Yehuda Avni’s statement that she knows nothing as a given. We should consider tracking her movements and connections more closely. We must find out who’s trying to get close to her. John, did you find out anything by monitoring her phone or from tracking her movements?”
“We haven’t heard any more threatening calls. There were two calls made from Cisco, but they hung up as soon as she answered. Nurit Avni meets regularly with two American doctoral students, Arlene and Phyllis, and they’re often seen together at the campus cafeteria. The friendship appears to be innocent, and we have no basis for suspicions. Nurit Avni had two long calls with a Dr. Francois Chaliand, a researcher at the university, and they discussed grants and a dinner date. She also had two phone calls with Dr. Ben-Ari.”
O’Connor looked at Yoni’s face and chose not to comment on the information. He was determined to raise a new idea he’d had. “I recommend we consider creating a fake Callnet card. In principle, we could alter the data, as we did with the material that Dr. Ben-Ari gave to the Iranians. I don’t know if it’s technically possible within the short time we have. It would be best to have the option available to us, as long as it’s credible and convincing.”
For a few moments, no one spoke. O’Connor nodded in understanding. Lyall didn’t seem to fully understand what Yoni meant.
“A brilliant idea!” O’Connor said. “We must examine the implications of this development, and soon. Lyall, how about setting up a meeting with Dr. Avni and his people? It must be kept highly classified, and in the first stage, Lyall, how about talking only to Avni himself?”
“I will,” Lyall promised.
“It seems we’ve covered everything,” O’Connor said, “and I’d like to thank you for participating. Monitoring the Revolutionary Guards intelligence-gathering network must continue, even stepped up. We’ll keep a close eye on Ryan and continue to record any discussions he has with his operators. Lyall, start working with Dr. Avni today on Mr. Feldman’s idea. All surveillance of Mrs. Avni must continue.”
“Gerald,” O’Connor said after they all stood up to shake hands and leave, “can you give me a few minutes?”
“Sure,” Deutsch said.
Yoni walked out thinking, What option were they talking about?
38.
Arlene and Phyllis were working furiously in their room at the faculty. Arlene was developing a new chapter of her dissertation while Phyllis pulled a face every now and then as she studied the material she’d printed up and jotted notes and corrections in the margins. The room was quiet until the door opened and Nurit burst in, her hair a mess and her cheeks flushed.
“I got it!” she exclaimed excitedly. “I got my first grant payment!”
“Already?” Phyllis shouted.
Arlene asked, “How much? Come in, sit down,” and dragged a chair from the corner of the room. “Do tell!”
“I received a message yesterday from Dr. Chaliand,” Nurit said, “informing me that the foundation had received all the paperwork. A meeting was planned for yesterday, he told me, and there was a good chance that it would be approved. He suggested I check my bank account to see if the deposit was made.”
“And it was…” Phyllis giggled excitedly.
“Yes! I checked my account online. They’ve given me fifty thousand dollars!” Nurit was still excited and flushed.
“That’s wonderful!” Phyllis said as they both jumped up and embraced her enthusiastically.
“You did it, Nurit, and you deserve it!” Arlene said. They looked lovingly at her flushed face.
“How about celebrating tonight?” Nurit continued happily. “Are we on?”
“What a question!” Arlene said as Phyllis nodded. “This calls for a celebration.”
“Seven, at my place?” Nurit suggested. “For a girls’ night?”
“Agreed,” Phyllis said.
Nurit decided to go home early to prepare. While she was still packing up, her phone rang. I don’t have time to talk now, she said to herself. Whoever’s looking for me will have to try me tomorrow. The ringing was persistent, so she gave in and answered.
“Hello, Nurit?” It was Francois. “Do you have a minute?” She couldn’t help but smile at his strong accent.
“Sure, Francois, I was just about to call you,” she said.
“I can hear that you’re in a hurry.” Francois’s keen observation didn’t surprise her. “I just wanted to ask about the grant…”
“It arrived! It’s fantastic, Francois! I owe you a huge thank-you!” she answered enthusiastically. “The truth is, I’m just on my way out. I invited Arlene and Phyllis over to celebrate.”
“That’s okay, Nurit, you deserve to celebrate.” She heard the disappointment in his voice. “When will I see you, so that we can also celebrate together? Tomorrow, perhaps?”
“Yes, that sounds great!” Nurit quickly agreed.
“At my place? Eight in the evening?”
“It’s a date. Kiss.” Nurit put the phone down and smiled happily.
The delicatessen owner was surprised by Nurit’s order. By the time Arlene and Phyllis arrived, the table was set for three with slices of eggplant, hummus, tahini and falafel, and a finely chopped tomato and cucumber salad seasoned with olive oil, salt, freshly ground black pepper, and lemon juice. A basket of halved pita bread and freshly squeezed orange juice completed the picture.
At precisely seven on the dot, there was a knock at the door. They’re right on time, Nurit thought as she rushed to welcome them with a hug.
“The table looks amazing,” Phyllis said. “You have to explain to me what each dish is.”
“Is that Israeli orange juice?” Arlene was surprised. “Bringing oranges to California is like bringing coal to Newcastle.” She cracked a smile.
“Why the Middle Eastern meal?” Phyllis asked.
“I decided to do something different,” Nurit explained, “and this food isn’t too heavy.” It wasn’t a complete answer to Phyllis’s question. What did I really want to say with this meal? She wondered. I’m not feeling nostalgic, so maybe I’m marking my independence and saying goodbye to everything I had in the past?
“It’s exotic and tastes really good!” Phyllis smacked her lips together as she tried one dish after another.
“Tell me, Nurit,” Arlene said, returning to the matter that concerned her, “have you found out any more about the foundation? Such sums aren’t given for no reason.”
�
��I know from Francois… Dr. Chaliand,” she said, quickly correcting herself, “that the foundation supports research on social processes in developing countries. They’re located in New York, and his team here in Berkeley also receives funding from them. Anyway, money is money, right?”
“You’re right,” Phyllis said, unable to stop eating. “You deserve it. Just say thank you and don’t ask too many questions.” She watched Arlene frowning.
“I can ask Dr. Chaliand for more details. He called me this afternoon to make sure the money was deposited.”
“Are you going to see him?” Arlene asked.
“Yes. Tomorrow evening.”
“At the university?” Arlene had to know everything.
“No.” Nurit hesitated a little and blushed. “At his place…”
“You’re moving on, my dear,” Phyllis noted kindly. “Good for you.”
Arlene didn’t let it go. “I know your research, honey,” she said. “And with all due respect, I don’t really understand what’s so innovative about it to justify such a generous scholarship.”
Phyllis poked her with her elbow. “Stop being such a spoilsport.”
After her friends left, Nurit started thinking. Arlene’s comment may have been insensitive, but it was justified. Is my dissertation really that important to understanding the social process that the foundation’s interested in? If not, what could possibly have made them decide to pay me, and what was Francois’s part in it?
***
It wasn’t the first time that Nurit was visiting Francois’s monkish apartment. The most impressive piece of furniture was the bookcase that covered an entire wall. The five volumes of The Atlas of Popular Protest Movements sat on the middle shelf. On Nurit’s first visit, Francois had proudly shown her the atlas that he’d worked on for ten years, the result of his travels with Jacques Vergès.
