by Arno Joubert
Alexa frowned. “So how did you get to meet Callahan?” she asked doubtfully.
“Well, I told Frydman how frustrating it was not to have someone inside the Dalerians to gain information firsthand. All that we had to go on were Perreira and Callahan’s locations and some other trite details.” Neil leaned back in his chair. “So he gave me Callahan’s cell number and I rang him up. Told him that I’m available to act as a double agent at the right price,” he said.
“I knew it, you asshole. Everyone has a price, right?” she said with an exaggerated wave.
Neil jumped up. “C’mon, Alexa. I needed to get into the organization. Do you know how much intel I gathered from Callahan? And I fed him garbage to keep him off our tracks.”
Alexa thought for a moment. “OK, and what is this stuff about my dad’s profile?”
“Well, the moment that Frydman ran virus removal software to get rid of Becky22, it seems as if Becky22 realized it and came, I don’t know, kind of alive. The next thing he knows, Frydman starts receiving messages from your dad in his mailbox.”
“Like we do on our phones?”
Neil nodded. “Precisely. So he hooks up a speaker and mike to the mainframe as the program requested, and your dad starts talking to him.”
Alexa snorted. “C’mon Neil, that’s damn preposterous. You’re saying my dad is alive.”
Neil grabbed Alexa’s shoulders. “He knew about everything. He said that he had always looked out for you, and he is able to track Perreira and Callahan and others across the globe by intercepting cell phone conversation, using digital face recognition on cameras at airports and bars and restaurants, and by tracing their credit card transactions.”
Alexa shook her head uncertainly.
“Alexa, your dad must be alive.” Neil smiled tenderly.
“Where is he?”
Neil shrugged. “He doesn’t want to say.” He pursed his lips then removed his cell phone from his pocket. “Phone Zachary Cohen yourself, he has his own dedicated line at Mossad HQ.” Neil grinned. “He’s a nice guy. ”
The world seemed to spin around her. Déjà vu. She put her hands over her face and steadied herself, then she lifted her eyes and flicked a loose strand of hair from her eyelashes. “Um, OK.”
Neil dialed a number and handed the phone to Alexa. A metallic voice answered.
“Hello, Becky. I’ve missed you, my baby.”
Alexa swallowed hard and her fingers started twitching. She lifted her hand to her mouth, dropped the phone, and fainted
Mossad Headquarters
Tel Aviv, Israel
Alexa saw Major Sal Frydman look up at the security camera and nod a silent greeting. He inserted his security key into the reader and then opened the door to the OPS Room, Alexa following him inside. He pulled out a chair at a console and gestured for her to have a seat. She sat down, looking around uncertainly.
Frydman switched on a computer console in front of her. She stared in awe as thousands of characters flew in from the side of the screen and melded to form a face made of an assortment of alphanumeric characters.
The face smiled, and it resembled her dad. "Hello, Becky, or should I call you Alexa?"
The voice was familiar, and the metallic quality had gone. It was her dad's voice. She recoiled in shock and stood up, the chair scraping back and falling behind her.
Frydman picked it up and nodded with a smile. “It was a shock to me as well.”
Alexa gathered her thoughts and steadied herself. “Um, hi, yes, Alexa is better.”
“All right then, Alexa. It seems unfamiliar, but I’ll get used to it.” The face smiled. “You are exceptionally beautiful; you look so much like your mom.”
Alexa held her hand over her mouth. “Dad, is that really you? I can't believe it,” she whispered. “I—I have so many things that I want to ask you.”
The face nodded. “Ask me anything, day or night, I'm always here. I’ve added a speed-dial code to your cell. Dial 111 on your phone to get hold of me. It's a toll-free number, it won't cost you a cent.”
Alexa nodded. “OK, so how did you manage to become alive again?”
“Well, technically, I never died. At the moment I’m on life support, but I’m able to communicate with you.”
“How?”
"Well, the short answer is nondestructive whole-brain monitoring using nanorobotic technology. The long answer is a whole lot more complex than that,” the face said and smiled.
Alexa nodded. “Nanorobots. But that hasn't even been invented yet."
The face chuckled. “Oh, but it has. I've been experimenting with it for more than thirty years. The technology was never available to build computers small enough to be injected into a person's bloodstream. Effectively, I'm connected to machines keeping me alive, supplying my body with oxygen and nutrients. The computers allow me to access a CPU that I use for communication, almost like Hawkings does by typing on a small pad with his lips.”
"And where is your body?"
“That's a secret. Suffice to say that you would probably never guess. But I will tell you when the time is right. I am still too vulnerable."
Alexa leant toward the console. “You said I could call you anytime? You don't sleep?” she asked.
The alphanumeric characters on the console seemed to dance around, then they contorted into a smile. “Anytime, baby. Day or night.”
Gordon’s Bay, Cape Town
Alexa snuggled into Neil's chest. He was lying on his back, his arm around her shoulder.
“So tell me, how did you managed to get a dishonorable discharge from the Marine Corps, Sergeant?” Alexa asked Neil, propping herself up on one elbow.
He thought for a moment, rolled onto his side, and looked at Alexa. “Well, the day that Weinstein blew his brains out, when Bruce went to save your dad, I realized something was wrong.”
Alexa nodded.
“I went upstairs and saw Bruce kicking the crap out of Perreira, so I used the distraction to go through the files in Weinstein’s office.” He took Alexa’s hand from her thigh, playing with her fingers.
“I found a safe in his office and broke in. It contained some, let’s say, unflattering photos of Weinstein in a compromising position with one of his troops.” Neil traced his finger up Alexa’s arm. “Things started to make sense; Weinstein was being blackmailed by Callahan.”
“Blackmailed?” Alexa asked with a frown.
“He was set up. They caught him in the act with a junior officer, a guy. Took photos, probably paid the troop. I found a note from Callahan threatening to circulate the photos to the entire Israeli Defense Force if he didn't do what they asked of him.”
Alexa sat up and folded her legs. “OK, so what? It's a free country. Two consenting adults and all that?”
Neil looked at her for a moment then shook his head. “Weinstein was coming up for a promotion, a one star general. And the Israeli Defense Force used to be extremely conservative when it comes to homosexual relationships.”
"OK, so what did they ask him to do?” she asked.
“Two things, really. Weinstein had to ensure Callahan’s safety. That’s how my division became involved,” he said. Then he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “We were Callahan’s personal bodyguards. Secondly, Weinstein had to authorize weapon shipments from the Tel Aviv Air Force base. They were sourced directly from the Israeli Army’s armory.” He glanced at Alexa. “He was pilfering weapons from the Defense Force and shipping them all over the world to Callahan’s henchmen.”
"And you know this how?" Alexa asked.
"Weinstein kept immaculate records of everything. Shipping manifestos, dates, times, packing slips, and delivery notes. All filed neatly in cabinets in his office,” Neil said.
She frowned. “Do you think that’s why he committed suicide that night?”
Neil nodded slowly. “Yes, I think it all became too much for him. He knew that the deal was up when Bruce arrived.”
Alexa
turned around and fell onto her back next to him. “But how could that get you dismissed? You should have been awarded a medal.”
Neil snorted. “I decided to present the evidence to Major Daniel Roebuck, my commanding officer in the corps. Unfortunately, he was also on Callahan’s payroll. Roebuck came down on me hard, threatened my family. He forced me to abandon my investigation.”
“OK, but why did he discharge you then?” Alexa asked.
“Well, a couple of years ago I mailed everything to Julian Assange,” he said with a mischievous smile.
Alexa gaped at Neil. “The WikiLeaks guy?” she asked.
“Yep, I really pissed off a bunch of people in Israeli Intelligence,” Neil said with a chuckle. “Which meant I pissed off a bunch of people in the British government. Having too many people in high positions pissed off at you doesn’t help your military career much.”
“But why didn't you send the evidence to someone else? You could have given it to Bruce.”
Neil turned his head to look at Alexa. “Have you tried to get hold of Bruce? You don't find him; he finds you.”
Alexa chewed her lip. “I guess. Wasn’t there anybody else that you could trust?”
“No one. I wasn’t sure. I was a sergeant, I wasn't involved in the daily strategizing sessions. I didn't know who to turn to.”
Alexa sat up then straddled Neil. “You bad, bad boy. You got yourself into some big trouble,” she said, laughing a naughty giggle.
Neil chuckled. “Oh, please, Captain, punish me.” He rolled her onto her back then kissed her neck, trailing his tongue down to her breasts.
"Ooh, Sergeant,” she moaned, throwing her legs around Neil's waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck, not taking her eyes off his face, groaning as he entered her.
They rocked gently together, staring into each other’s eyes, their breathing becoming ragged.
Alexa cupped Neil’s chin then whispered into his ear. “You’re everything I ever wanted in a man.”
Neil stopped moving then grinned, catching his breath. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Alexa nodded, her eyes wide and expectant, then pulled him closer. “I think so,” she said with a trembling voice.
Neil smelled something burning, then the fire alarm started to wail. He jumped up and yanked on his jeans, bolted toward the source of the alarm, and stumbled into the kitchen.
Alexa was bent over the oven, holding onto a fire extinguisher, trying to make it work. White smoked billowed out of the opening, making him gag. He ran to open the windows. When she saw him, she stood up and tried to wave the smoke out of the windows with a dishcloth.
"Why are you burning the house down?" he asked gruffly.
She smiled at him with a sheepish grin, blew a wisp of hair from her forehead, looking stunning. She was wearing a faded grey T-shirt, no pants.
“I was trying to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but it went horribly wrong. I don't have a toaster, so I decided to toast the bread in the oven, but it started burning.”
She gestured and pointed animatedly as she spoke. “And when I pulled the plate out that it was on, I burned my hand.” She pointed at a singed cloth on the floor. “And then I tried a napkin, but it touched the element and started burning as well.”
Neil looked around at the mess in the kitchen. Smoldering toast was scattered on the floor, and a burnt rag was tossed into a pan filled with oil. It caught alight.
“Shit, the eggs!” Alexa shrieked, ran to the faucet, then filled a cup with water.
“Wait!” Neil roared. “It will explode.”
He ran to the bathroom and ripped a towel off the rail, tossed it in the tub, and dunked it in the water. He scrambled to the kitchen and dumped the towel on top of the burning pan. The towel hissed and extinguished the flames.
“What a mess,” Alexa said looking around dejectedly, wiping her hands on the front of her T-shirt. “I’ll order us breakfast.”
Neil sauntered up to the fridge and opened it. It was well stocked. “No wait, I'll make us something.”
Alexa disconnected the call and frowned at Neil. “Can you cook?”
"Very well. I was a bit of a mama’s boy.” He opened and closed cupboard doors, familiarizing himself with the kitchen. “Your kitchen is fully stocked, how come you don’t ever cook?”
Alexa shrugged and plonked down onto a chair. “Well, I always did the shopping and my mom did the cooking. I never had to cook for myself in the Legion.” She sat with one leg up on the chair and the other bouncing up and down. “I guess it makes me feel good to do a bit of domestic work, like I’m more normal,” she said, twisting her hair around a finger.
Neil tore his eyes away from her and removed eggs, flour, and bacon from the fridge. He placed it on a table in the center of the kitchen. “Would you be OK making coffee?” he asked uncertainly. You never knew.
Alexa slid off the chair then sauntered seductively toward him. “I’ll try.”
Neil removed cutlery and plates from drawers and shelves. He proceeded to crack some eggs into a mixing bowl and added flour and milk. “Do you like crepes?”
“I’ll eat anything, I'm absolutely starving,” she said then slapped him on the bottom.
Neil prepared a breakfast of eggs Benedict on ham, and crêpe suzettes to finish off with. Alexa wolfed it down and chased it with a couple cups of coffee. Neil watched her eat with an astonished smile. He thought that she might turn on him next. Which wouldn’t be such a bad idea, he thought.
Alexa leaned back and stretched contentedly. Her T-shirt crept up, revealing her legs and flat tummy. “Thanks, that was delicious. I could get used to this.”
Neil stood up and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go burn some of those calories,” he said, playfully.
Alexa smiled and grabbed the two loops on the front of Neil's jeans. She pulled him closer and kissed him, throwing her arms around his neck, then took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. “Let’s.”
Alexa was jogging on the beach, heading toward the Strand, when her phone rang in her in-ear headphones and automatically dimmed the music. She answered by pressing a button on the microphone. “Alexa Guerra.”
“Hello, Captain, General Laiveaux here.”
Alexa slowed down and stopped. “General, how are you?”
The general seemed excited. “I’m excellent, thank you for asking. Your hidden camera has given us some more valuable intel. Another shipment is headed for the United States.”
“Will you intercept it, General?” Alexa asked, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.
“I don’t think so, Captain. This would be the ideal opportunity to arrest the men involved.”
“OK . . .”
Laiveaux continued. “It is arriving in Mozambique today. From there it is destined for Newark, in the States.”
“All right, General. What are my orders?” she asked.
“I will have the container tagged with a tracking device in Mozambique. I need you to follow it from its arrival in Newark to its final destination,” he said.
Alexa nodded. “All right, General. I will book our flights today. When should I leave?”
“Send Voelkner and Latorre to establish base. The shipment won’t arrive for another week or so. I need you to follow up on the information that you received from Callahan. We need to find out what Metcalfe’s involvement is,” Laiveaux said.
“What would be the preferred interrogation method, General? Covert?”
“Direct interrogation. Under duress,” Laiveaux answered. “We need to establish the link quickly. If he’s funding the operation, the sooner we remove him from the equation, the sooner this whole house of cards comes tumbling down.”
“You do realize that kidnapping a member of the House is a federal crime, General?” Alexa asked.
Laiveaux chuckled. “When has that ever stopped us, Captain?”
Alexa nodded. “All right, General.” She started marching toward the road
. “Latorre and Voelkner could scope out Metcalfe until the shipment arrives. He lives in Manhattan.”
“Good. Alexa, the consignments are increasing. They are expecting four more containers this month. We need to nail these guys ASAP.”
Alexa turned around and started jogging back to her apartment. “I understand, General.”
Neil gazed out of the window. The sky looked grey and ominous; fat drops of water clung to the glass before inevitably succumbing to gravity and meandering in small rivulets to the bottom of the pane. People on the beach who had been caught in the storm were jogging for cover, clinging to hats, and being buffeted by the wind. The sudden gale belted the crests of the waves, spraying water into the air.
Neil cupped his chin in his hand and studied the scribbled note that Frydman had popped into his hand a couple of days ago.
I think we have a problem. Meet me at the Yukon Park at 7:00 p.m.
Alexa strolled out of the bathroom. She wore a large white bathrobe and patted her hair with a towel. Neil put the note back in his pocket.
“You hungry?” she asked, squeezing his shoulder.
Neil nodded.
“You want an egg on toast?” she asked.
He linked his fingers into hers and pulled her closer. “Scrambled or boiled?”
Alexa pushed him away and punched him on the shoulder. “Boiled, obviously. You make the toast.”
Alexa led him into the kitchen. They busied themselves preparing the meal, but Alexa seemed preoccupied. They sat at the kitchen table and dished up the simple meal.
“What are we going to do about Metcalfe?” she asked, biting into a slice of toast.
