Screwed Mind – An Espionage Thriller: The International Mystery of the Mossad and Other Intelligence Agencies

by Yossi Porat

  Ned was pleased. An anonymous tip this morning had already pointed in the direction of Gujarat, and this confirmed it. “Who could the anonymous informer be, though?’ he wondered to himself.

  He called Sir Joseph. “You people were right about the Israelis. They’re fully cooperating, and they’ll be passing on all the details of the company’s employees in India. In addition, we had an anonymous tip from an Indian

  source this morning, confirming what we now know through the Israelis. “

  Sir Joseph turned to Rob and Brian. “Well, good for you! The Israelis are passing over to us all the information they’ve succeeded in gathering. Please keep Morris and the special task force informed and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Riyadh, capital of Saudi Arabia, looked very modern and Westernized from the air. Huge skyscrapers, wide highways filled with cars – in contrast, his beloved Damascus looked ancient and poor. Abu-Razik turned to Omar. “This is all from oil, isn’t it? Tell me what I’m seeing.”

  “You’re right, it is all from oil. Well, let’s see: there’s the King Fahd International Stadium, and there’s the al-Faisaliah Tower, 267 meters high. Next to it is the al-Mamlaka Tower, and there are the universities – King Saud University, al-Faisal University. Tomorrow, we can take a tour before our meeting with Azmi. You know, he’s very high up in al-Qaeda, as well as being our principal backer.”

  “One of the principal backers,” Abu-Razik corrected him, his Syrian pride showing. “We also have many heavy backers in Syria!”

  Abu-Razik continued to enjoy Riyadh when on the ground: the international airport, the luxurious hotel. He went out onto the balcony of his hotel room and sat down on a lounge chair made of metal and rattan. He looked out at the view of rolling sands, and felt lonely. “How lovely it would be to have Laurie here with me!” he thought longingly. He decided to have a long shower and to go to sleep immediately. The next day, and its important meeting, would then be that much closer.

  He was woken by an angry Omar. “Do you know what time it is?! Get up and meet me in the lobby restaurant.” Omar left his room, slamming the door after him.

  When they were seated, eating their breakfast, Omar began, “I’m suspicious of your Laurie. I think she’s playing with you – she hasn’t even slept with you yet! She seems like a tease to me, and I think you should be very careful what you say to her. Now, as to the meeting today, you must realize that Azmi is very important to us in the organization. Try not to antagonize him. By the way, he can make you forget Laurie…” Omar leered.

  The two men entered Azmi’s residence and were reminded of fairy-tale palaces. But Azmi himself was not the shining Arabian knight on a dashing white steed, but instead a short, rotund little fellow with a huge mustache under his prominent nose. He greeted them warmly.

  “Come in, my friends,” he said, kissing Omar on both cheeks, and then enclosing Abu-Razik in a warm hug. “Would you like a turn in my Jacuzzi? Come. We’ll get you some bathing suits.”

  A tall blonde appeared, dressed in a tiny green bikini. She led them to a dressing room, where they each changed into more appropriate clothing. Azmi was waiting for them, cigar in one hand, and a glass of whiskey in the other. “Come in, come in,” he invited them. “Tell me all the latest news.”

  When Abu-Razik told Azmi of Laurie, the receptionist who had led them to Control, the fat Saudi laughed excitedly. “Let’s call her,” he suggested with a leer. “I want to hear what she sounds like.”

  He called to his servant, who was waiting in the corner, to bring them a cell-phone. When Laurie answered, her voice still full of sleep, Azmi said, “Good morning, Miss Laurie. I’m a friend of Sayeed’s, my name is Azmi. He’s told me all about you. Perhaps we could meet some time?”

  “Where are you?” she asked sleepily. “Are you here in London?”

  “Oh, no, miss,” Azmi laughed. “I’m in my palace in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.”

  “Well,” Laurie laughed seductively. “That’s pretty far for me – I work long hours and I really don’t have the time to take trips. But if you do get to London, I’m sure we can meet.” Abu-Razik took the phone. “See you soon, darling,” he murmured and blew her a kiss through the phone.

  …..

  The intelligence communities in both Tel-Aviv and Washington, DC were planning how they should continue. They now had exact information as to the whereabouts of three important figures, thanks to Azmi and Sayeed’s indiscreet phone call to Laurie in London. In the end, it was decided to have Laurie lure Azmi to London, where he could be arrested. Avram informed Menahem of the decision, who immediately called Laurie and gave her the orders. “OK,” she said doubtingly. “I’ll try, but I’m not promising anything.” She hung up and went back to Sol, who was waiting for her in bed.

  …..

  After leaving the Jacuzzi, Omar and Abu-Razik continued to fill Azmi in on the latest news. Azmi was pleased with the report of the planned bombing in Barcelona, and suggested a series of bombings in different locations in Europe. “Is there enough money” Abu-Razik asked. Azmi looked at him in derision, “Endless, my friend, endless. Anything to serve Islam.”

  “Well, we can certainly use you in London to help us plan for the long term,” Omar said to Azmi.

  The men enjoyed a pleasant massage, with the added benefit of the sexual attentions from the three beautiful masseuses. After a long lunch of lamb and rice, the three parted at the door to the palace.

  “We’ll soon meet in London,” Azmi shook hands and then hugged them both. “We’ll even meet your Laurie,” he laughed.

  In the first-class section of their plane, Abu-Razik remarked angrily to Omar, “I’m not giving him Laurie!”

  “Forget it, friend, Azmi always gets what he wants. And this time, I’m sure he will too. He told me that he had your little ‘massage’ video-taped today, and he

  won’t hesitate to use it, if he doesn’t get what he wants. Imagine, your bosses in Syria, your wife, even Laurie – if they were to see what you were up to!”

  Abu-Razik was furious, but he knew when he was beaten. In London, he called Laurie, yearning for her sweet voice. “Let’s meet tomorrow, darling. I can’t wait to see you, my sweetheart.”

  Laurie hung up the phone and immediately reported to Menahem that Abu-Razik was back in London and that Azmi was probably arriving in the city soon and wanted to meet her.

  Soon, of course, the British and the Americans knew all this as well.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Deborah and Morris were sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Henry Brown, a neurologist recommended by Brian. Deborah was still suffering from massive headaches and they were hoping that the eminent professor would be able to discover why.

  The doctor looked carefully at the CT of Deborah’s brain. “You seem to be suffering from an inordinate amount of radiation, which has caused a certain amount of damage to the neurons in your brain as well as to certain lymph glands in your neck. We will be performing a procedure to remove the damaged cells in your neck, and I’m confident that this will solve the problem. As to your brain, I strongly recommend that you do not use your cell-phone at all anymore. Morris, it’s probably best if you do the same.”

  The two agreed, thanked the doctor and each left for home. Deborah waited for Lance to return home that evening, determined once and for all to reveal everything that she had experienced the last few months. When they had finished dinner and put the boys to bed, Deborah began.

  “Lance, I must ask you some questions, and I want you to answer them as a lawyer.” Lance nodded. Suppose a person has a certain technology that allows him to transmit orders to another person’s brain. He orders him to perform actions that are in large part not in his character. Is the person guilty if he performs these actions?”

  “Legally, no,” Lance replied. “He’s considered temporarily incompetent.”

  “And what about on an emotional level – would you consider thi
s person guilty in any way?”

  “I’m not an expert on emotional issues, but I would have to say also, no.” Lance said thoughtfully. “What’s this all about?”

  “Lance, this is what’s been happening to me. It seems there’s a communications company that has invented a way to transmit to people’s

  brains, using cell-phone technology. They can make the person do anything, even actions that are completely incompatible with his ethics or morals.”

  “And this has happened to you?” Lance asked, stunned. “Tell me everything.”

  Deborah told the whole story of her involvement, leaving out nothing. In the middle of her tale, she found tears streaming down her cheeks, but she continued until the end, finishing with her visit to the neurologist that morning.

  “Tomorrow I have to undergo a procedure to remove the damaged lymph nodes in my neck. I want you to be there with me, Lance.

  “Of course, darling,” Lance murmured, holding her close. “I’ll never let anything happen to you. I love you so much.”

  …..

  Rob and Brian were meeting with Sir Joseph. Rob explained, “You see, Sir Joseph, we can wipe out the memories from the division managers by using our computers here in London, but in order to get to the programmers, we need to be in India. I think I should go there and do it myself.”

  “You know,” Sir Joseph replied. “The Israelis already have a team there. I will request that you be added to their staff. That way you will have the information and the support that you need.”

  Rob arrived in Ahmadabad, Gujarat and was met at the airport by Tami, a member of the Israeli team. “Hello, Rob,” she welcomed him. “I’ve reserved you a room at the hotel we’re staying at. We’re registered as computer experts investigating a possible expansion here in Ahmadabad, and you’re our British colleague.”

  “Sounds good to me,” grinned Rob. Later, seated in the restaurant of the hotel with Tami and Dan, another member of the Israeli team, Rob asked, “So what have you been able to find out?”

  “We know everything we need to,” Dan replied. “What we have to do now is break into their offices and plant our virus.”

  “The virus is a Trojan horse, which we call “Doomsday,” Tami explained. “It will destroy all the code of their technology. It connects both to the computers here, of course, and also to the computers in the London office. The whole process takes about half an hour, and once it starts there’s no way to stop it.”

  “But what about the backup discs that are here in their offices, and the central back-up discs in the main office in London?”

  “That’s not part of our mission, but I imagine that it’s being taken care of,” Tami answered.

  In his room at the hotel, Rob filled Brian in on his conversation with the two Israelis. “The Israelis are planting a virus to wipe out all the code, but they couldn’t tell me anything about plans to destroy the backup discs.”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Brian assured him. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day!”

  Chapter Thirty

  Angela Roker, senior political reporter for CNN, began her special broadcast.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I am shocked to report that there has been a large terrorist attack half an hour ago in the center of Barcelona, the Plaza Cataluña. The bomb was timed to explode at three-thirty this afternoon, when many Barcelonans take their afternoon break. In addition, many tourists were caught in the attack, and altogether, we know of six deaths and forty wounded who were brought in to local hospitals here in the city, as well as over one hundred victims suffering from shock. Al-Qaeda has taken responsibility for this attack, in a conversation with the CNN representative in Barcelona. The actual suicide bomber was a young woman from the Basque area, sent by al-Qaeda, and the police are doing everything possible to track down those who sent her to her death.”

  “The public is requested to stay away from the area, at least for the next few hours, but the police assure us that by tomorrow all will be back to normal. They urge tourists to remain in the beautiful city, and as a sign of their wish to help the tourists, all hotel fees will be paid by the city this evening. The best answer to these terrorists is to continue your daily lives.”

  …..

  Andrew and the two Arabs were celebrating in Andrew’s office. “We did it!” Andrew exulted. “Our next step should be four simultaneous blasts here in London, and then we can sell the technology off to the highest bidder, for billions, I should think. But first,” he paused, “I have a suggestion. In addition to the bombs, we should get into the vault of the Bank of Tokyo-Mitsubishi branch, where that policeman put the drug money. All the police and security forces will be busy with the bombs, and it should be no problem to pull this off!”

  “What about the technology of transmitting the bombing orders to four separate instruments?” Sayeed asked.

  “Technically feasible. We just have to make sure that each bomber is

  geographically separate from the other. We don’t want the transmissions to get scrambled.”

  …..

  The conference call between Jorge Luis in Barcelona, Menahem in Israel, and their counterpart at MI5 in London would have surprised the whole world. “So, how did you pull it off?” Menahem asked admiringly.

  Jorge explained, “One of our beat cops noticed a suspicious young girl with muddy shoes and a nervous look in her eyes walking up and down the street near the Plaza. He approached her and asked her name, and she panicked and started to run. When he grabbed her, he lifted up her big jacket, and there it was – a detonator belt around her waist, loaded with explosives. When he questioned her, she was completely disoriented. She had no idea where she was, or what she was doing. She’s not a member of the Basque underground, and has no political affiliations at all.”

  “So how did you stage the bombing?” the British officer asked.

  “My brother Juan is a movie director. We closed off the area, and called in all the media representatives and explained our idea. They immediately agreed to cooperate. Nobody can go to the hospitals or the morgues, either. Tomorrow we’ll report on the funerals of the victims, which of course will also be staged by us.”

  All agreed that this was a significant success – and each reported back to their superiors.

  …..

  “No one knows you’re here, Vikram, not my boss, not even the Prime Minister.” Menahem and Vikram were riding to a small restaurant in Jaffa,

  where he was sure no one would notice them. “The main thing is that we destroy this damned technology – nobody should have that kind of power, and that includes my own countrymen!”

  Vikram nodded in agreement. “So what’s your plan?’ he asked patiently.

  “We’ve got to destroy the backups in India of all the programmers. Because they’re all separated one from the other, they probably don’t have any idea of the larger picture. While we’re destroying the backups in London, you should send in a team to the main office in Ahmadabad. You should also send teams of two to every single programmer. They should explain to each programmer how it is a matter of national security for them to gather all the codes on the programmer’s computer, as well as any backups.”

  “I think we could manage that,” Vikram nodded. “But how do you intend to destroy the backups in London? Aren’t they in a safe under lock and key, as well as password –protected?”

  “The new office cleaner is one of ours,” Menahem winked.

  The two men sat down to enjoy their meal and talked of everything besides computers, codes, and bombs.

  …..

  “So, my darling, I’ve missed you,” Sayeed kissed Leora on the lips, his mustache tickling her lightly.

  “Did the experiment work out well?” she asked sweetly.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Perfectly. We’re going to continue here in London, the day after tomorrow. My friend Azmi will be coming in as well.”

  “Really?” she opened her eyes. “We ca
n spend some time with him, and then go on, just the two of us, to Paris. What do you think of that, darling?”

  “I can’t wait,” he breathed. “You know, Azmi really wants to meet you. I hope he has no trouble getting into the country. He’ll have to be travelling under a different name, of course. Nobody would want to have someone called Azmi Bin-Laden from Saudi Arabia here in London!” he laughed.

  They left the club, locked in an embrace, and walked toward the taxi stand across the street. Suddenly a taxi streaked down the road, at high speed. Leora was not able to pull herself out of the way, and she fell down on the road. The taxi screeched to a halt, and the driver came running toward her. “Are you all right?” he beseeched her.