The security team examined the buildings and prepared them for the Prime Minister and other attendees. They also called for the paratrooper company and the drone control truck to move into the compound.
The last step was for one of the security team members to visit the conference venue. The Soviets insisted that the conference be held at their sprawling compound. Churchill wasn’t happy with this and the Israeli Prime Minster flatly refused. It took a week to negotiate an alternative venue.
The venue agreed upon was the former French embassy. It was smaller than the other embassies but adequate for the purpose. After the conference the Free French government was supposed to take possession of the building.
It was guarded by British and Soviet soldiers who now were joined by Israeli paratroopers. An Israeli security man walked through the building. He was followed none too politely by a Soviet NKVD agent and a curious MI6 one. The Israeli pretended not to understand Russian. The NKVD man spoke English fluently but with a strange accent and the Israeli pretended to have difficulty understanding him. The Israeli admired the furniture, the drapes and the general décor of the former French embassy. He managed to leave behind bugs without alerting the Soviet secret police officer. The NKVD as well as MI6 and Israeli security each swept the building for such invasive plants several times a day but only their own equipment showed the Israeli bugs.
***
Jacob Hirshson tried to relax with a book on the couch in his living room. His house in Refidim was well lived in, the furniture used but in very good shape. It wasn’t easy to find furniture in a country whose population had more than doubled in just over a year.
Jacob found himself spending less time in Beer Sheva at the university and more in Refidim. His uncle Chaim was running the surveying company, leaving Jacob free to study civil engineering, but he was distracted and restless. The idea of setting up a computer business looked more and more appealing.
After half an hour of trying to read the book, Jacob started, again, checking numbers in the latest version of his business plan. It looked good to him. There really was no need to procrastinate. It was time to take action.
The doorbell chimed and Jacob heard his mother greeting his friend and would-be partner Zalman Gurevich. Jacob had known Zalman for many years, since they were youngsters in Vilna before the war. Jacob trusted Zalman and told him about his idea to build and sell computer. Zalman was excited. His only experience in sales was at his small grocery store in Vilna, inherited from his father. Zalman believed he could sell anything. Computers seemed modern, exotic and exciting.
He came into the living room and threw himself onto one of the armchairs. “Jacob, I found just the guy we need. He’s from Vilna, used to be an electrical technician repairing radios there. He graduated from the Refidim College in computer engineering here and has a repair shop in a strip mall on Ben Gurion Avenue. He knows how to build computers and has the space for it. We can start with him running the building operation and opening a shop to sell them.”
“Wait a minute! Before we start building and selling we need money to finance the operation.”
“That should be easy,” Zalman responded. “I see no reason why Ze’ev won’t give you a loan. I will pitch in as well.”
“Yes, Ze’ev already offered but I don’t feel comfortable taking money from him. He helped me with my surveying business and I want to start this one on my own.
“Don’t worry, Zalman. I went to the bank yesterday and they will give me a loan that should be enough to start, if we don’t have to pay for a storefront. Let’s meet with your friend and discuss this with him. I want to set up a mail-order business. Do you know how those work?”
Zalman smiled a big smile. “How do you think I’m making such a nice living now? Not by competing against the big grocery chains. I buy specialty cheese all over the country and also import items and then sell them by mail. Haven’t you seen the weekly newspaper ads for the goodies at Z&G Stores?”
“Sure I have. I didn’t know that was your business. I thought that your little specialty food store in the strip mall was what kept you busy.
“Is the stuff you are importing kosher?”
“Some is and some isn’t. There is a significant market here for non-kosher foods. The truth is that both my mother and mother-in-law gave me a hard time about selling treif. My father was unhappy too. That’s one reason I’m looking to hook up with you on the computer business. Not dealing with food will be a relief.”
“Let’s go meet your friend now. There’s no point in wasting time.”
***
Ze’ev Hirshson was both bored and bothered. Things were going too smoothly. Whatever production problems popped up, his managers solved. Even the fledgling car assembly plant was taking shape nicely. There was very little for him to do except make strategic decisions and this was the problem: There weren’t that many to be made. He was bored.
When he brought this problem up with his wife, Linda told him that he has to either become lazy and just enjoy life, which she knew wasn’t in his nature, or do his normal thing and make trouble for everybody. He was now looking into making trouble and thought he found the perfect venue.
Ze’ev went to visit with Consolidated’s Vice President for Research and Development on the floor below. “Omer, I want to look into more vertical integration of our activities.
“I think that we need to expand into mills. If we could make our own rolled steel stock and plate, it would hugely reduce our dependence on the Italians and Americans for our cars’ material. We could also start making vehicles from high strength steel alloys, which is seventy years in the future. What do you think?”
Omer Toledano knew his boss and had figured that something like this was coming. “I would need to estimate the investment necessary and the income it would generate. Steel mills are not cheap. On the face of it our car operation doesn’t justify an independent mill. If we also setup a forge next to it we could make ball bearings and other standard machine parts too.”
Ze’ev nodded. “There are all kinds of ways to execute this idea. You’ll be the lead on this. Get marketing and finance to help you. I would like to meet in a month or so to discuss this. If it’s feasible we can go ahead almost immediately. We’re sitting on a pile of cash and it needs to be put to work. If not this, we’ll have to think of something else.
“How about widening our technology base? I was looking into electronics and such. The field is crowded except for flat screen displays. Israel has only one company that makes them and they are expensive. The high price is in part because these guys are used to making specialized military and scientific hardware and in part because they’re slow in expanding production. What do you think of entering the field of consumer grade displays?”
Omer looked surprised. “I thought you were going to suggest a computer chip fabrication facility. At least there we have some foothold through our ceramics operation.”
Ze’ev smiled. “Don’t be shy then. Look into both. I may be wrong but it seems to me that both Intel and AMD have an advantage over us since they design the processors and already make them. If we get into this we will be only a contract manufacturer.”
“There’s a place for contract manufacturers in the current market, but what about our car operation? We might yet become one of the largest in the world and a car has a number of specialized processors that are different from what Intel would want to make. We’re using a small company in Rehovot to make ours. Maybe we can buy it?”
“That’s an idea. Ask the Finance VP to check it out. Tell him that I really like the idea if the price is reasonable.”
***
The Boeing 737 carried the Prime Minister, Foreign Minister, Chief of General Staff, other Israeli officials and staff. The jet landed and taxied next to the parked Hercules and Arava.
By now the Israelis had a little enclave not far from the control tower. The Soviets also had a couple of aircraft parked nearby, including a Lis
unov Li-2 transport (a licensed copy of a DC-3) and several Lavochkin La-5 fighters. The British contingent was the largest, with a number of Spitfires. Prime Minister Churchill’s Liberator was already parked among them.
The Israelis got into the waiting Sabra cars and, with a couple of armored military escorts, drove off to their embassy.
It didn’t take them very long to settle in. Less than an hour later the ministers and generals were briefed by a security agent. “Gentlemen, the building is swept for bugs twice a day. We found a lot of listening devices. They were mostly of NKVD origin but we found several made in the USA, a standard FBI model that is powered by telephone lines, and one of British origin. They look quite old and might have been planted when the building served as the German embassy. According to instructions we left one room untouched and still bugged. It’s clearly marked, so be careful what you say in that room and in the ones next to it.”
***
After the briefing a clerk settled behind a desk in the “dirty room”. There was a knock on the door. “Ah, Oded, just in time. Do you have anything to report on the bugging of the Soviet Embassy?”
“No, but you can tell the boss that our agent there checked in. He will see that there are bugs in all the right places.”
“I thought that he’s too senior to plant bugs,” said the first clerk.
“He is indeed very close to the top but he also knows how to do the little things. Don’t worry - you’ll have your information soon.”
***
The meeting with Churchill was held in a room clean of bugs.
“Prime Minister, I’m glad to finally meet you in person,” Churchill began.
“Please call me Amos. I’m honored to meet you,” Amos Nir responded. “I studied your career in school. In our time you are much admired for both your political skill and principled treatment of Nazi Germany.”
“Call me Winston. It’s a bit strange to be told you studied me in school, but I guess I’ll get used to the concept.
“I wanted to further refine our approach to Stalin. We seem to agree on most things, but I’m sure that Stalin will do his best to surprise and divide us.”
“I think that we must take the initiative, surprise him and keep pressing relentlessly. This is what I propose we do…”
***
Stalin didn’t like leaving Moscow and hated flying. He came to Teheran by plane and was angry – just a general anger to be released at the first opportunity.
Poskrebyshev stuck his head around a slightly open door. “They’re here.”
“Let them in then.”
Molotov was the first to enter, followed by Voroshilov, Beria, Zhukov, Poskrebyshev and Nikolai Vlasik, head of Stalin’s bodyguard detail.
After everyone was seated General Vlasic surprised them by being the first to speak. “I have a piece of information that has to be dealt with immediately. Yesterday one of our bugs at the Israeli embassy picked up a conversation of great interest. It seems that they have an agent very high in our government and this agent is present here in Teheran.”
Stalin looked at Beria. “Lavrentiy, you have anything to add?”
Beria was rigid in his seat. “The intercept is correct. It took us a couple of hours to translate it – Hebrew speakers are not very common among us. We have no idea who the agent might be but we will find him.”
Stalin put his empty pipe on the desk in front of him. His moustache was bristling with anger. He was silent for a long time. Finally he said very quietly, “Beria, you are an inept idiot. You didn’t bother to have a staff of Hebrew translators at a conference where Israel is a major party? Idiot! You also have no clue who the traitor might be! I’m of a mind to order Vlasic to shoot you right here and now.”
All present were looking at Beria. His lower lip was trembling slightly. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone was dragged from such a meeting and shot.
Molotov spoke up. “I just received a packet from our new ambassador in Jerusalem. The most important information it contains is that Israel is not what we were led to believe it was.” He looked pointedly at Beria.
“Go on,” Stalin said picking up his pipe. Beria relaxed visibly – If the boss played with his pipe he was not likely to order an immediate execution.
Molotov continued, “Our ambassador, Aralov, reports that Israel is an extremely advanced country. He estimates their population is many more than the six or seven million we were told they have.” He looked at Beria again.
“Devices unknown to us are common there. Aralov couldn’t even name most of what he has seen, but advanced automobiles and glass skyscrapers are plentiful. I prepared an executive summary.” He put several pages in front of Stalin and gave copies to everyone.
It took Stalin ten minutes to read the summary and then read it again. Finally, he nodded to Molotov. “You have had the most time to think about the implications. What is your opinion?”
Molotov was prepared – Here was a double opportunity. “Despite what comrade Beria led us to believe, I think Israel can be a valuable ally but a very, very dangerous adversary. We need to be careful not to alienate them and, above all, not to make them into an enemy. Some careful diplomacy will be necessary.”
Beria saw the danger to himself. “I suggest calm for the moment. We shouldn’t decide anything based on a report from a person who has been in the country for only a couple of days. We will have more information from Aralov and his team within a week and then have a much better understanding of what we are facing.” This wasn’t a solution to his problem but the proposition, if accepted, would give him at least a week’s grace.
Voroshilov stirred in his seat. “It may sound strange, but I agree with both of you. We should be careful but there’s no need to rush.”
Stalin said nothing, smoking his pipe and thinking. Finally after a long silence he said, “We know exactly what we want from this conference. I want to achieve our goals no matter what. Molotov, devise a diplomatic approach. In tomorrow’s meetings I will introduce our demands and you will keep up the diplomatic pressure to achieve them.
“Beria, your highest priority is to find the traitor. It shouldn’t be very difficult. There are a limited number of top level people you need to check, so be quick about it.”
***
Alexander Comstock Kirk, the U.S. Ambassador to Israel, got off the Egyptian steamer Talodi at the port of Ashdod. A Foreign Ministry limousine took him, his secretary, and his chief of staff to Jerusalem.
Kirk settled at the King David hotel and started organizing the embassy. He explored the U.S. consulate building at 18 Agron Street, which the U.S. had owned since 1912, but decided it was too cramped and old to serve as an embassy. The building next to it, a Lazarist monastery, was also a U.S. holding, as was a modern building on 14 David Flusser Street . Kirk judged it too small for an embassy.
There was another problem: the consulate building on Agron Street served as the consul’s residence and the former/future consul was still there.
Kirk was only slightly surprised by the Israel he found. He had been briefed on the possibility of time travel so was at least somewhat prepared.
Finally, after a long consultation with his assistant and chief of staff, as well as the former/future consul, he decided to seek advice from the Israeli Foreign Ministry.
The Foreign Minister was polite. “Ambassador Kirk, please take a seat. How can we help you?”
Kirk settled in the proffered armchair. “I examined the U.S. consular buildings here and frankly they are, in my opinion, inadequate for an embassy of the U.S.”
The Foreign Minister nodded. “There’s actually only one building. The other two were leased by a future U.S. government in the 21st century. The leases are not valid and can’t be transferred to the current U.S. government.”
Kirk shrugged, “That’s arguable, but that’s not my point. Can I count on your office to assist us in finding a suitable location?”
“Certainly, Ambassador.
My office will put you in touch with a reputable real estate agent and assist you with the legalities.
“May I suggest that you consider getting help from the staff of the embassy and consulate of the future we came from?”
“Thank you for the suggestion, Minister. I would appreciate very much a list of these people.”
The Foreign Minister pressed the intercom button and asked his secretary to bring the lists.
Kirk looked through the names on the way back to his hotel. He was surprised by how many of the senior staff were women. That would never do. He couldn’t employ a woman as a second secretary of the embassy or head of the consular department. This was most inconvenient.
Kirk set his secretary to call the senior employees, starting with the Ambassador, to invite them to a meeting with him one on one.
***
Wolf Frumin spent the weekend at his parent’s home in Carmiel. His sister Esther joined them, although she was restless and planned on leaving at midday on Saturday. She had a date with Jacob in Beer Sheva.
At breakfast Wolf brought up the decision he was trying to make: to go to NCO school or become an instructor, and whether to go on to officers school, assuming he graduated from the NCO school. After explaining to his parents and sister the options, he wanted their opinion.
Tzila Frumin had a question: “How safe is NCO school and how safe is it to be a First Sergeant compared to an instructor?”
Wolf smiled. “There isn’t much of a difference. Armor units are small and everyone is protected equally well.”
“Or not,” Nachman Frumin interjected. “You were seriously injured in a tank, so it’s not perfectly safe. Combat is combat.”
Esther smiled at her brother. “I understand that the instructor’s job is only temporary so there’s not much point in discussing it.”
“No, it has to be weighed,” her mother disagreed. “By the time Wolf would be done with that job the war might be over and he will be safe.”
Esther nodded agreement. “True, but it’s also important what Wolf wants in the long run. The NCO and officers schools will take a while, longer than six months, so the war may be over by the time he graduates.” She looked at her brother. “The question is whether you want to stay in the professional army?”
Beyond the Shield Page 27