Agent on a Mission

by Rose Fox

  Benny joined them when he was promoted to the rank of Second Lieutenant and went on to advance to the Number Two position in its surveillance cell. He was successful and rose in the operational ranks and became responsible for all the wiretaps. Benny developed technology that enabled the Koreans to carry out real time tapping of the discussions of the Israeli Security Council. The technology was based on the ability to connect to the existing security system and attach devices that transmitted the information. Thanks to him, the Korean organization cancelled or changed decisions after hearing the discussions held in this conference room and the decisions made in their wake.

  A month earlier, he had been appointed to a new assignment; the responsibility of tracking two agents, the judges, who were sent to Russia. Aside from the honor of the job, it also added a great deal of money to his bank account. For several days he had tried to find out the route of the judges’ itinerary. The difficulty was that they were posing as innocent tourists and had succeeded in misleading their pursuers.

  Everything had changed two days ago when Yuri Eliav, who was in charge of the content of the meetings, said out loud and clear at one of the meetings.

  “I underssand that swo of our agenss on mosorcycles are abous so receive a package of uranium in the lass kilomesers of the Naliboki Foress.”

  That was an important statement because it was the first indication of their whereabouts. A man from the ‘Black Pack’ was immediately sent after them. He took advantage of the fact that the elusive hikers stayed in one place for more than a day and one of them, Anton Stolov, was killed.

  At another meeting, once again speaking on top of his voice, Yuri said.

  “I underssand shas Advocase Abigail is going so replace Judge Ssolov.”

  The truth was that she had been marked for assassination a long while before by the ‘Black Pack’. First, little Modang was sent, armed with her cord of death, followed by another agent, who was sent to kill her on the day of her departure on her special assignment and ending with the man, who had succeeded in obtaining the key to her room at the inn, on her first day in Russia, who was killed by Abigail.

  Now a new plan was taking shape to kidnap Abigail and Justice Ayalon. In this new plan the ‘Black Pack’ was cooperating with an Iranian terrorist organization called ‘Walid-el-Allah’ (The Son of God). The Koreans were involving the Iranian Revolutionary Guards in this assignment and approved their use of both of them in any way they wished.

  The members of the committee sat round a plastic table with four small bottles of water in front of them. A light breeze blew under the branches of the Cedar tree that cast its shade on them. Albert sat down and began to speak.

  “Listen, friends, the topic for discussion today is to cancel or stop the mission of the agent who left to go there on Wednesday. She is supposed to meet up with the existing agent who is carrying the material.”

  “Why cancel if she has already left?” Ronnie asked.

  “There is a new report from the ‘Mossad’. She is being followed, attempts are being made on her life and she is likely to endanger the agent there.”

  “Who’s following her?” Ayah asked.

  “The day before she left on the assignment she had a confrontation with the Korean woman and wiped her out, and the next day, on her very first day on assignment, she was compelled to kill another assassin, who entered her room. She has been exposed to the enemy and is being pursued. That makes her the weakest link.”

  “Well, yes, it’s quite clear that she is endangering the agent with the material,” said Wesley and Mike backed him up, saying:

  “She’s serving as bait. Everywhere she goes, she’ll be followed by those black-clad assassins and murderers. In my opinion, they’ll succeed in the end.”

  There was silence and Albert said:

  “It’s important to us that they don’t discover the agent, who is carrying the material.”

  A tape-recorder lay on the table, but, of course, nothing of what was said around the table reached the ears of the ‘Black Pack’, because they were conducting their meeting in the courtyard, outside the range of the listening devices.

  Albert said: “I’m asking for any suggestions from you, even if they sound crazy. Come on folks, brain storm!”

  “Okay then, in my opinion, nothing needs to be done,” said Ronnie, “the information will get to them anyway, they’ll kill her and that will be the end of the matter.”

  Ayah’s eyes opened wide and she said angrily: “Are you crazy?! Should we abandon her just like that? So, what’s the point of this meeting?”

  Albert stretched out his arm towards her and said, “Ayah, stop, Ronnie understood me very well,” and Ayah stared at him in amazement.

  Mike added in his melodious Scottish accent:

  “Without wanting to insult anyone, we are here to solve a problem that has arisen because of the agent, who went on assignment. Whether we are to abandon the agent or not is the topic of our business. The idea here is whether we should stop the agent before she leads her assassins to the agent who is carrying the material. Period. What isn’t clear about that?”

  Ayah’s face was blood red. She said,

  “But what if she succeeds in eliminating the assassins who come after her, as she has done till now?”

  Suddenly Albert spoke without connection to the question.

  “I have to ask myself out loud: how the hell did they know who the next agent was? How did they get to her home, to her room in the inn and, what’s more, at the start of her assignment?”

  Mike continued talking:

  “I ask myself something else. How did they get to the agent who delayed his departure by one more day and kill him?”

  “Right. And they are always those people dressed in black.” Albert added.

  “I think the discussions in our committee reach the same place,” Ronnie said. “But how? If it’s not one of us, then how is the information getting there?”

  “It’s clear that Yuri passed it on to them,” Ayah said and noticed that Ronnie was looking towards the building they had left earlier. Albert also looked in the same direction. Ayah saw Major Benny Kenner kneeling on the lawn and was surprised to see him pulling out weeds.

  “Now that’s a charming sight. Perhaps someone would like to explain what it’s all about?” Albert inquired and looked back at Ronnie.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Ronnie asked and Albert nodded and said:

  “Perhaps we’ve found the answer to all our recent questions.”

  Albert pulled a radio transmitter out of his pocket and whispered a few words into it.

  “Let’s carry on as if we haven’t seen a thing,” he said. “I want to hear some more crazy suggestions and ideas. I want to get possession of the material he’s carrying within the next two days, if possible, as well as extricate both our agents, alive.”

  “Is there a way of getting a message through to them?” Ronnie asked.

  “Yes, she’s equipped with a small radio transmitter and has already tried to contact her dispatcher.”

  “What shall we transmit to her?” Ayah asked. “Shall we tell her to come back and not try to meet up with him?”

  “No, I think we should instruct her to go in the opposite direction and not meet the agent.”

  “And I suggest that…” Ronnie tapped his fingers on his mouth, hesitating to speak.

  “Yes, so what do you suggest?” Albert urged him.

  “If we’re not too late, perhaps it makes more sense to stop the agent and not her. Have him go in the opposite direction and avoid the meeting.”

  A green military van drew up parallel to the lawn beside them. Two soldiers got out and approached the officer who was kneeling on the small lawn. They escorted him into the building and two minutes later came out carrying two large bags. Major Benny walked among them as each soldier held one of his elbows. He climbed through the open doors into the waiting van, which disappeared within a minute.
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  In spite of the capture of the two important moles belonging to the ‘Black Pack’ the abduction plan based on the work of the two traitors was already gearing into action.

  The members of this important committee didn’t realize that they were asking for the moon and the stars because the organization that was pursuing the two agents in Russia was no longer in need of additional ideas.

  On that very day assassins were sent to the two ‘Mossad’ agents, to Abigail and Adam. Two vehicles were sent to the place with updated information that one agent was riding a motorcycle and the other, a bicycle.

  * * *

  The trial of Major Benny Kanner and Yuri Eliav got wide press coverage and a headline appeared in, Latest News:

  THE MOLES FROM THE ‘SECRET SERVICE’ WILL SOON BE

  BURROWING TUNNELS FOR THE ‘PRISON SERVICE’’

  The details of the trial were classified top secret and it was held behind closed doors. Channel 10 laconically reported that the court had convened to try the case.

  At the same time, Barak and San sat in front of the TV, watching the news when, suddenly, the image of Hamdallah, the leader of the murderous organization, appeared on the screen. Hezi Ben-Artzi, the correspondent for Arab affairs, was broadcasting his message.

  In fact Hamdallah was getting at Israeli public consciousness, knowing that his words were likely to damage its morale, which, of course, was his intention.

  “I want to say,” he said cheerfully, “ that if I am sorry about anything that has happened, it is that you found out about two people that you call ‘moles’. They were people after my own heart. I have to tell you that Yuri is a man’s man and the other one, Major Benny Kanner, also served us as in excellent informer. I admit that the loss is all ours and I honor and credit these two heroes.”

  He chuckled and adjusted the black turban on his head, looked amused, and continued to lash out with his sharp tongue.

  “I would like to point out that many of our organization’s successes resulted from the effort of your two moles. Would you like an example? Okay. What about the Israeli agent, Anton Stolov, who was killed in Russia?”

  “Oh, listen to what he said,” Barak said as he straightened up in his chair and San stared at the screen and said, angrily.

  “Since when do we pay attention to what he says and credit it with being the truth?”

  At that very same moment they heard Hamdallah mocking,

  “People listened in to your cabinet meetings and acted on the basis of decisions taken at them. I’m referring to the pair of agents you sent, who you’re looking for right now. That was a slip of the lip. I’m sorry I revealed that. I turn to the Chairman of your Committee, Albert Einstein,” he sifted through his papers and added,

  “Also the excellent Sir Wesley, who has such a fine mind,” and then his image disappeared from the screen.

  The trial of Yuri and Benny came to a close after marathon sessions. There had never been such a fast trial.

  In his judgment, the judge, Yom-Tov Moshe, pointed out that had a suitable team of judges been appointed, it would have been possible to pass the death sentence on them.

  He sentenced them, “I sentence Benny Kanner and Yuri Eliav, together and separately, to terms of imprisonment to be calculated at one year for every month of treason, which means if they were members of the committee for sixty months, they will be imprisoned for sixty years. The sentences cannot be commuted and are not defined as ‘life imprisonment’.”

  In his remarks the judge recommended that after thirty-five years in prison each of them would have the right to request and apply for clemency from the President, the supreme authority of the state.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Adam decided to leave the cursed place where he had lost his friend, Judge Anton. He operated like a robot now. He gathered Anton’s meager possessions and added them to his own and tried to assuage his sense of guilt as he spoke to himself.

  “Why didn’t I insist on leaving after just one day?”

  The people, who came at his behest the evening before, picked up Anton’s body and his motorcycle. Before they left, he was approached by one of them, who had a beard and red hair. He hugged Adam and patted him on the shoulder. Adam recalled now that he had completely forgotten the man had slipped a note into his pocket and, even now, did not take it out.

  Anton’s death saddened him and he felt lonelier than he ever had. He just couldn’t continue. His bag fell out of his hand and he sat on the floor at the foot of the sofa behind him. That was how the maid, who came to clean the room, found him after a while.

  She opened the door with her key and went inside. When she noticed him she turned round and ran out screaming in Russian. Adam got a fright, awoke from his daydream, grabbed his bag and ran to his motorcycle. He didn’t know why he was in such a hurry to get away, but his instincts told him to get out of there as quickly as possible.

  The day before, it had rained the whole night and rain collected in puddles everywhere on the road. He rode round them and continued, without any particular direction or destination, riding without purpose or plan. The wind dried his face and he covered it with his coat sleeve. A strong gust drove the dark clouds in the sky above him.

  His hands were shaking on the handle bars. Adam slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road. His nose was running and his eyes welled up with tears that distorted his eyesight.

  The rain grew heavier and the puddles sprayed mud on his motorcycle and on his clothes. Adam drew up at the side of the road. He hesitated, wondering whether to pull out his cape, but the rain whipped at him strongly so, he rummaged in his backpack, caught hold of the tail of the black cape that stuck out of it and pulled it out of the closed bag. He heard it tear as he pulled and his wallet flew out of the bag together with it and landed in the mud. Adam picked it up and stuffed it into his wet pocket.

  Adam was on the verge of breaking. He thought how much he would give now to be together with someone and for the moment he felt miserable and lonely. He sat down hard in the mud, spraying the murky water around him. When he put his hand in his pocket his fingers touched the note that the bearded redhead had stuffed into his pocket. He took it out and smoothed out the creases. The note was written in Hebrew.

  CATCH THE TRAIN GOING EAST, TAKE THE MOTORCYCLE WITH YOU

  AND GET OFF AT THE LAST STATION.

  A few more words appeared under the instruction in very small letters and looked like

  the writer’s signature. Adam had to make an effort to decipher them.

  DON’T GIVE UP! YOU ARE OUR HERO.

  Adam crumpled the note up into a tiny ball, as he remembered Abigail doing with her notes, and put it back in his pocket. The motorcycle slipped on the wet sand and got smeared with mud. Adam felt too weak to pick it up. He sat on the motorbike and put his hand in his trouser pocket, touched the little ball of crumpled paper. It inspired him with renewed strength.

  His memories brought a smile to his lips and spoke out loud. “Abigail, my Abby, where are you, darling? I miss you.”

  He began to sing out loud as he swayed back and forth with the rain beating down and making a ticking sound on his cape. Adam knew that if anyone saw him, they would be sure that he had lost his mind.

  After a long time he turned away from the wind, which whipped into him in waves. The rain seeped down his neck through the torn cape and he pressed his chin to his chest to protect both from the intense rain. He sat like that and fell asleep or, perhaps, even fainted and when the rain stopped the pale soothing sun came out and Adam opened his eyes.

  He shook himself, got up and picked up the dirty, wet motorcycle. The wind was still strong and he thanked God for the protection of the transparent windshield on the front of the motorcycle. He started the motor and set off on his way.

  Road signs with symbols of railway tracks appeared that marked the ever shortening distance to the station. The next road sign bore the mark ‘700 meters’ below the track sym
bol. Adam slowed down and stopped when he reached the station. He waited for a few minutes and then heard the rattling and groans of the braking train in the distance.

  The train that pulled in to the station was simple and pretty old and consisted of only three coaches behind the engine. Adam loaded his motorcycle on the coach in which he sat. There was also a bicycle that didn’t obstruct passage and it was clear that no one had a problem with the vehicle he had loaded on it either.

  The train continued to travel slowly and the monotonous clatter of the wheels was soporific. He yawned noisily and fell asleep within a minute. He awakened in panic when his elbow was touched. The conductor was rousing him to explain in Russian and with gestures that he had to change trains.

  Adam took his motorcycle off the train and onto the platform and went in the direction the conductor indicated, to wait for the next train.

  As the train had not yet arrived, he leaned the motorcycle on its leg and sat on a rickety bench. The surrounding area was rather neglected and it was evident that not much traffic passed through it. The station consisted of three old benches, signposts in Russian and two car chassis without wheels. The raised hoods of the cars looked like wide-open yawning mouths. He was very hungry but he didn’t see anywhere to get food when he looked around.

  Adam sat like that for about a half an hour till he heard the whistle of the approaching train. It slowed down with a grating screech of its whistle, and the wheels’ braking on the rails sent off sparks like firecrackers.

  As Adam rose and took hold of the motorcycle, a young, shabbily dressed young man appeared and offered Adam pretzels and pita bread. He displayed his wares and walked ahead, chattering away in Russian. When the train stopped and its doors opened, the man bent down suddenly under the bench on which Adam had sat earlier, grabbed Adam’s backpack and made off with it at great speed.