by Yossi Porat
He picked up the phone and spoke to his lawyers. “Hello, Ben. Could you
please fax me the stock option agreement for my secretary Laurie? We’ve decided to give her 10,000 shares, remember? Can you get it to us immediately?”
After they both signed the agreement, Andrew turned to Laurie with a smile, “Satisfied?” “Very. Thank you, Andrew.”
…..
Adam was the first to arrive that afternoon. He perused the documents he was to sign and felt satisfied. The Arabs entered after a few minutes, and shook hands with Adam and Andrew. Andrew opened the discussion.
“Adam and I have agreed that Adam will keep a two percent interest in the company and will also sit on the Board of Directors.”
The Arabs looked at each, surprised. “Really?” Omar began. “We don’t agree to this. We want Adam out completely.”
“Don’t worry,” Andrew said calmly. “This is a condition of the deal, and we can live with it. We’ll arrange an office for the two of you, and Adam will continue to sit here with me.”
Laurie entered and gathered the signed documents for filing. She took the checks the Arabs had brought with them, for immediate deposit in the company’s bank. She showed them to Sol in the elevator. “Strange,” Sol wondered. “The checks are drawn from two different banks.”
…..
Adam reported to Sir Joseph. “The deal is signed. I insisted on keeping two percent and a seat on the Board. This way I’ll still be able to report any developments to you.”
“How did they pay?” Sir Joseph questioned Adam. “Two separate checks – one drawn on the Saudi Commercial National Bank and the other on the General Bank of Arabia,” Adam answered, perplexed. “Why do you want to know?”
“The General Bank of Arabia is a bank that we’ve been watching for quite a while,” Sir Joseph answered. “Many Arab organizations use it to transfer funds to Iran, Syria, and Lebanon for terrorist activities.”
“In that case, these two aren’t being very careful, are they?” Adam asked. “Maybe they’re feeling over-confident.”
“Don’t worry – I’ll be informing everyone of these latest developments,” Sir Joseph ended the call, and did indeed talk to the Prime Minister, the Security Minister, the Police Commissioner, and the head of the special task force.
..…
When Laurie returned to her office from the bank, she found a pretty young girl waiting for her in the reception area. “Hello,” the girl smiled, “I’m Francine, your new cleaner.” “Let me show you around the offices,” Laurie offered, and as they made their way down the hall, Francine whispered to Laurie, “Regards from Menahem.”
“So, tell me, Francine,” Laurie asked loudly, “What brings you to us?”
“Oh, I’ve just finished my architecture studies in Paris, and now I’m here in
London, doing a specialized course in Victorian architecture. Students always need extra money, so here I am.”
“Very interesting,” Laurie commented. “Andrew, the director, is still in his office here, so you should probably do that last.” Laurie left Francine to her work. After Francine had finished the conference room, the Arabs’ new office, and the rest rooms, she approached the main office. She could tell that Andrew was still working inside, but this would only help her gain what she needed. She opened the door and entered.
Andrew looked up from his Sudoku and stared at the pretty girl with her short crown of bouncy curls, her equally bouncy breasts, unfettered by a bra, her long legs in tight jeans. “And who might you be?” he asked with a seductive smile.
“I’m Francine, your new cleaner,” she told him, looking him boldly in the eye. “I see you do the hard Sudoku puzzles. I have fun with them myself.”
“So why don’t you come over here and help me?” he invited. As she neared him, he looked into her alluring eyes, and decided that she would not mind his advances. He reached over and put his arm around her waist. “Why, sir, are you trying to start something here?” Francine trilled.
“You know I am, and you know you want it,” he whispered as he pulled her close. She melted into his arms, but then she stopped. “Wait, what if someone walks in?” “Well, I’ll just lock the main office door, then,” he laughed. “No, no – don’t get up,” she purred, “Give me the keys.” As she took the large set of keys from him, she asked him innocently, “But which is to the main door?” He rattled off, “Let’s see. This is to the car, this is to my office, this is to the safe, and this is to the main door.” She took the keys and disappeared to the main door, leaving the keys in the lock. When she returned she ran to his arms and kissed him hungrily on his face and neck. Moaning with pleasure, he allowed her to bend down on her knees and remove his trousers. When she had taken him in her mouth, he knew he was about to explode in ecstasy. He could not
remember the last time he had taken such pleasure in a woman – certainly not with his wife, who had been rejecting his advances for quite a long while. He must have this young girl again, and again, and again…
“Andrew,” she got up from her knees, “I must go clean myself off. Was I able to please you?”
“You have no idea,” Andrew moaned. “Next time I’ll give you pleasure,” he promised. She left his office and went to the main door, where she saw Sol. “I managed to make copies,” he whispered. “Excellent,” she smiled. “Then it was all worth it.” Sol looked after her quizzically as she entered Andrew’s office, keys in hand.
…..
“Shall we plan the ‘experiment’ in Barcelona?” Andrew asked Omar from his car on the way home. “Let’s meet tomorrow at nine in the morning.”
…..
Menahem received the coded message from Francine. She had copies of Andrew’s keys to the safe, he saw with satisfaction. “Wonder what she had to do to get them,” he thought to himself.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Leora entered the company’s offices at exactly nine o’clock the next morning. She found Andrew and the Arabs already there, deep in discussion. “Don’t tell me you all slept here last night!” she joked.
“Until now we’ve only been playing around,” Andrew replied grimly. “Now we’re really getting down to business.” Leora left them to their planning.
“OK,” Andrew continued. “We know this will be in Barcelona. Any thoughts as to where?’
“The Plaza Cataluña is the most heavily used area in the city – locals and tourists alike are there in the hundreds every hour of the day,” Sayeed replied. “That’s probably the best place. I suggest that the bomber should be Basque, rather than Arab. It’s another way of keeping suspicion away from us. We, of course, will also supply the bomb.”
“Right,” Andrew agreed. “Now you must find the perpetrator, and I will transmit a harmless order to him, just to check out the system.”
“We have connections in Barcelona,” Omar boasted. “We’ll let you know who will be our ‘chosen one’ and we’ll of course get his cell-phone number.”
Satisfied with their plans, the new partners left Andrew’s office. On the way out, Sayeed stopped at Laurie’s desk. Remembering her reaction to him the day before, he was respectful of her personal space and also of her dignity. “Would you please join me for dinner this evening, Laurie?”
“Yes, I would like to very much,” Laurie smiled. “I have the perfect place: Marco Pierre White’s Oak Room at the Meridian Hotel. It’s one of the finest restaurants in London. I’ll make a reservation for us for this evening.”
……
They met that evening at seven. The crystal chandeliers, the wall-to-wall plush carpeting, the oak-paneled walls, were evidence of a fine dining experience awaiting them. And they were not disappointed: the terrine of goose liver, shrimp and asparagus salad, medium-rare sirloin were all perfect.
“Laurie, you know I want you so badly. Please come with me to my hotel tonight,” Sayeed was practically pleading. But Laurie shook her head, “I’d love to, darling, but I’m afraid my mo
ther needs me. She’s not feeling too well these days.” As if in compensation, she took his hand and squeezed it warmly, gazing with desire into his eyes. “Yes, she really does want me,” thought Sayeed, satisfied at the thought.
She tried to change the subject. “So how have you decided to progress with the technology?” she asked innocently.
Sayeed told her without hesitation of the plans to bomb the Plaza Cataluña in Barcelona. As they finished their dessert, a strawberry soufflé and a superb Armagnac, Laurie smiled to herself. “Got it!’ she exulted.
In her taxi on the way home, she texted to Menahem the latest information. He was already in bed, but he sat up to read the message. His reaction was, “We must inform both the Spaniards and the British. I’ll talk to the Prime Minister in the morning.” He turned over and fell asleep.
…..
Menahem entered Na’ama’s office first thing the next morning. She smiled at him, “Menahem, I’m happy to report that we’ve got the addresses of all one-hundred and eleven programmers, as well as of the three division heads. We’ve also got a good connection to Andrew’s computer and the bug in his office is working well. We know that whoever broke into Andrew’s computer the other night emailed all the material to someone named Rob, who I suspect is from MI5. We also know that Andrew is virtually out of the company, left with
a two-percent stake and a seat on the Board, both of which are meaningless, but possibly enough to allow him to continue giving information to the British government. At any rate, because of the break-in to Andrew’s computer the other night, the British know as much as we do.”
“Yes, but we still need the code to Andrew’s safe. I guess Francine will have to get creative.” Menahem added.
“Hmmmm…. creative,” Na’ama smiled. “But seriously, we also have to find the source of Andrew’s transmissions, his GMLC. I think it’s probably on the roof of the office building, you know. He’s just arrogant enough to think that he can broadcast in plain sight and no one will suspect.”
“You are brilliant!” Menahem exclaimed. “I’m sure you’re right.”
Menahem returned to his office and called his Indian friend in Gujarat, the head of the State Security Office. “Hello, Vikram,” he began and exchanged pleasantries with his Indian counterpart. “I think we should meet, either here in India, or even in Europe somewhere. What do you suggest?”
“I’ll be in Brussels, landing tomorrow night at ten. Can you meet me at the airport?’
“Of course, my friend,” Menahem replied. “See you then.”
When he ended this call, he made another to the Prime Minister’s office, and was told that the Prime Minister would be free to see him in ten minutes. When he did enter the Prime Minister’s office, he was greeted rather coldly, he thought. “Why are you here on your own?” the Prime Minister asked. “I want Avram here as well.” He picked up his phone and called Menahem’s superior.
Avram entered the office, obviously angry, and both men listened to Menahem’s update. “Our main problem now is Barcelona,” he summed up. “Do we let them carry out their plans to bomb the most central area in the city,
or do we warn the Spaniards now? I suggest we warn Spain and the British now.”
“And what exactly do we tell them?” the Prime Minister asked. “We don’t want to expose our surveillance activities in London, remember.”
“I can tell the Spaniards that we have information about a possible al-Qaeda attack in Barcelona. They will most probably then inform the Americans and the British. There’s no reason to think that anyone will tie this in with London.”
After receiving both the Prime Minister’s and Avram’s agreement to this plan, Menahem left the office. He put in a call to his intelligence counterpart in Spain and informed him of a planned al-Qaeda attack on the Plaza Cataluña. “Just do me a favor,” Menahem added. “Please don’t reveal that Israel was the source of the tip.” “Of course,” Jorge agreed. “Thank you, Menahem.”
Jorge was as good as his word, and the Spaniards informed the CIA, MI5, and the Mossad. Avram called Menahem. “Very clever,” Avram said sarcastically. “You got the Spaniards to inform us about the tip we gave them!”
“Of course, Avram,” Menahem replied. “Jorge knows better than to reveal his source!’ Menahem hung up.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It took only two days for Rob and Brian’s new office in the Ministry to look like a university dorm room and exactly like Rob’s apartment. Again pizza boxes, beer bottles, newspapers, even clothes – strewn all over carelessly.
“MI5 got notice this morning of a possible al-Qaeda attack in Barcelona. The Spaniards told us, and then the Americans also told us. The Spaniards surely won’t accept any outside aid in this – they’ll want to handle it by themselves. They mentioned that the information they have is that the bomber is Basque, not Arab.” Brian thought for a minute. “We have to get into Andrew’s safe in his office. I’m sure that’s where he keeps his back-up discs for the entire project. “
“Tell me,” Rob inquired. “Don’t the Israelis usually have the latest information about planned bomb attacks? Did they also come forward with the information?”
“No, they haven’t been heard from,” Brian replied. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that maybe the Israelis were the ones to plant bugs in Andrew’s office, that maybe now they’re not willing to admit that they’ve got undercover activity going on here in London. I’ve got an idea how we can find out, but we need Sir Joseph’s help.”
Sir Joseph listened attentively to Rob and asked, “How do we find out if it is the Israelis?”
“We can use the files of the National Insurance. Control must have their employees on record, and the NI can do some very deep digging in employees’ records that no one else can do. Maybe we’ll find an Israeli connection.”
Sir Joseph immediately called the Home Minister, and explained his request. In less than half an hour there was a call from the National Insurance headquarters. Sir Joseph listened with amazement, and when he hung up, he
looked at Rob admiringly. “You were absolutely right. Their receptionist,
Laurie, is an Israeli, as is their elevator boy.”
“But how did the partners not check them out when they hired them?” Brian was mystified.
Rob answered, “I’m sure it all goes back to Andrew’s arrogance, just like so much of what goes on in this company. He just felt that he had excellent judgment and didn’t need any outside verification. Then as they grew accustomed to the two employees, they felt no need to investigate them. Now, I suggest that we play a small trick on the Israelis. We’ll let them know that we’re on to them and give them a chance to confess. What do you think, Sir Joseph?”
“Brilliant,” Sir Joseph beamed at him. “I think you should start with Morris, and let him pass it on to MI5.”
Rob called Morris and told him of the plan. Morris sounded worried, and when Rob asked him, he replied, “Deborah has been having severe headaches lately. I hope it has nothing to do with the transmissions.”
…..
When Avram received the call from the head of MI5, he was surprised. “What’s new, Ned?”
“I want to be frank with you, Avram,” Ned began. “We have evidence that you’ve been involved in undercover work here in London at Control Communications. What do you have to say about it?”
“Yes, well,” Avram replied. “We’ve been meaning to inform you. We’ve only just begun the operation, you understand. I’ll have my second-in-command, Menahem, call you with the details. I’m sorry – let’s not blow this out of proportion.”
Somewhat mollified, the head of MI5 agreed to wait for Menahem’s call.
Avram hurried to the Prime Minister’s office, and Menahem soon joined them. After Avram reported his conversation with the head of MI5, Menahem growled, “I told you this would blow up in our faces!’
“Yes, Menahem, you were right, as usual
,” the Prime Minister admitted wearily. “The question is, what do we do now?”
“Menahem will call him and sell him some story,” Avram suggested.
“Absolutely not. I won’t be a party to this!” Menahem exploded.
“OK,” the Prime Minister interjected. “Avram this is up to you. You’ll have to call Ned and give him information – not all of it, but enough to make us sound credible.”
Ned Sullivan waited in his London office for the call from Israel. “So I understand that you have surveillance on Control in London. What else do you have?”
Avram felt that he had no choice. “We also have the addresses of all the programmers and the division heads in Gujarat. We’ll pass it on to you immediately.” Feeling beaten, he hung up.
