Baksheesh (Bribes)

by D S Kane

  “You won’t even trust me with that?”

  “Help me. Prove you’re trustworthy and I’ll fix this.”

  “All right! You win.” He turned away from her, his fingers flexing in anger. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  She smiled. “Did you bring the photographs of my face from before your first procedure? The last time you worked on me, we didn’t have the time for you to finish. I want my original face back.”

  CHAPTER 34

  April 25, 1:53 p.m.

  The Swiftshadow Group headquarters,

  2099 K Street NW, Washington, DC

  Shimmel staggered off the elevator and into the office entryway. As he passed through the entryway, he smiled at Judy Hernandez. She looked up and smiled back as he turned into the hallway. Jet lag dogged him as he walked into his office and sank into the chair behind his desk. He opened the satchel he’d carried and removed the photos he’d taken of the suitcase nuke just before he’d handed it to Geller in Jerusalem.

  He dropped them on his desk and examined them. Where’d it come from? He had his suspicions, but wondered if its design and the Cyrillic printing that included its serial number could confirm them. He’d need to do some research before reporting back to Ben-Levy.

  Without looking up, a change in the light from the hallway entrance let Shimmel know someone was standing in the doorway. He raised his head. The visitor was a man almost as large as Shimmel but several decades older. His face seemed somehow familiar. Shimmel searched his memory but came up blank.

  Slowly, the man walked to his desk and held out his hand. “Dobriy den. I’m Misha Kovich, Cassandra’s uncle.”

  The question in Avram’s mind dissolved. “Aha! I received Judy’s email. Welcome to The Swiftshadow Group.” He took the man’s offered hand and shook it. He saw Misha’s eyes descend to the photos.

  Kovich pointed to the photo showing the serial number. “I know that weapon.”

  Shimmel’s eyes shifted back to Misha at light speed. “What?”

  “I memorized the serial number of this suitcase nuke. That weapon was part of my last delivery from the old Soviet arsenal for my client, Nikita Tobelov. The man who I tried to buy the submarines from for Cassandra, a few months ago. Do you know him?”

  “Yes. I commanded the operation that stole the subs when he refused to acknowledge he’d received the funds for purchase.” Avram’s brows furrowed with thought. “And I rendered him for Mossad. He’s awaiting trial in Tel Aviv right now. As for this weapon, I just ran an operation that recovered it from the Al Aqsa Mosque in East Jerusalem. The bomb was set on a timer with less than an hour left before detonation. Mossad defused it and has it now.” Avram motioned for Misha to sit in one of his office chairs.

  Kovich sat and picked up the three photos. “What does Russian mafiya have to do with blowing up mosque?”

  Shimmel nodded, thinking the same thought. When Kovich left his office, he sat there stunned. For hours the same question cycled through his mind: why would the Russian mafiya want to blow up a mosque in Jerusalem?

  He could imagine no logical reason. His coffee had gone cold and the sky was dark now. He looked at his wristwatch. Over three hours had passed. He shook his head to clear it and picked up the phone. “Judy, please get me Yigdal Ben-Levy on the phone. No, I don’t know where he is. Call the embassy. If he isn’t there, tell them it’s me and they’ll tell you where he’s now. Yes, I’ll wait.”

  Seconds later his phone buzzed. “Avram? I only have a few minutes. Walking to a meeting with one of your former colleagues. Why’d you call?” He could hear footsteps in the background.

  Avram stared at the photos. “I completed the mission for you, but Geller probably told you that already.”

  “Yes, yes. The suitcase nuke appears to be an old Russian design, a leftover from the Cold War days.”

  Shimmel steeled himself. “I found out who sold the bomb to whoever left it in the mosque.”

  The footsteps stopped. “You what?”

  Shimmel’s hands tapped a rhythm on his desk. “Russian mafiya. It came from their eastern district office in Vladivostok. From their kingpin there. Nikita Tobelov.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. Earlier today I spoke with the former independent arms merchant who delivered it from the Soviet depot in Moscow to Tobelov’s Vladivostok warehouse for transshipment. I confirmed our finding with the Shabak liaison in charge of interrogating Tobelov,” said Shimmel, referring to the Israeli internal security service.

  “Let me think,” responded Ben-Levy. Over a minute passed. “Avram, I’m now holding the file on Tobelov. A thick one. Mostly from debriefing him after you rendered him for us. He’s wired directly into Moscow Center at the very top. Long ago he was KGB, operating out of Lubyanka. When the empire fell, he was offered a key spot in the FSB, but he declined to run a spy network. The best post in the Russian mafiya is Vlad, with its port into the Sea of Japan.”

  “Yigdal, I already know all this. I had dealings with him a few months ago. Stole two subs from him to save Sashakovich when she was besieged at the hotel in Maui.”

  “Right. So now I have to find out the answer to one important question.”

  Shimmel smiled. “And that question is, why would the Russian mafiya want to blow up a mosque?”

  “Uh, no. That question is, who wants Israel and the Arab world to destroy each other enough to work with the Russian mafiya, given the blackmail they’d most certainly expose themselves to? There would be a great deal of baksheesh necessary to keep things secret.”

  Shimmel’s mouth dropped open. Baksheesh, the Farsi word for bribes.

  * * *

  The next morning, still hung over with jet lag, Shimmel arrived later than he normally did. The secure landline was ringing when he entered his office. He picked up the receiver and listened to the voice coming at him. He sighed. “Shalom, Yigdal. What can I do for you now?”

  “Not for me. But there is still one thing unresolved. From the semi-repetitive bank line codes from the Bank of Trade that were used to fund terrorist operations, I can see the funds were sourced in the Middle East. There’s still money out there, and with the exception of ourselves, no one knows its provenance. Mastoff will use it if he gets the chance.”

  Shimmel sat, shocked by his assumption. “So you want me to render Mastoff? But—”

  “No, of course not. We can’t assassinate a sitting United States President.”

  “Then you want me to have the funds hacked from the Bank of Trade?”

  “Yes.” Steal the cash ASAP. You can keep the money. But the funds must not be available to start a Third World War.”

  Shimmel breathed a sigh. “Ach. I’ll take care of it.” He shook his head as the call terminated. He didn’t have the energy to think about this, still recovering from the trip to the Middle East.

  * * *

  Lee set tablecloths on the tables at the restaurant in Devil’s Slide as Cassie finished the set-ups. The bandages on both sides of her face itched. She could hear the clatter of dishes and cutlery as she placed spice bottles and dry ingredients on the counter. As she walked toward the fridge, she heard the front door open. Then Ann’s voice.

  “Hi, Dad.” Cassie could see them hugging. “Been too long. Wow, I’m so happy to be home. Where’s Mom?”

  Cassie ran across the wooden floor from the kitchen. “Here, sweetie.” She held her arms open and the teen flew into them.

  The girl and her mother hugged. Lee also joined in, holding them tight and squeezing hard. From a chair at one of the restaurant’s windows, Gizmo watched, purring at the return of her owner.

  Later, after the last guest departed the dinner service, Ann climbed the stairs to take a shower. As Cassie cleaned up the dishes, her cell buzzed with the ringtone extract of “Gamblers Blues.” She looked at its screen and accepted the call. “Hello, Avram. Thanks for sending Ann back to me in one piece. By the way, your mercs left early this morning. They sh
ould arrive by lunch, your time.”

  “Cassandra, thanks for the status update. But, so sorry, we aren’t finished yet. There is still one more thing you must do for me. And in return, I promise to do something for you.”

  Her brows furrowed. “Avram, I did everything you asked. I’m done. No more. Please.”

  “This is something you will enjoy.”

  She shook her head, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “I’ve already done too much. For far too long.”

  “At least take a minute to listen.”

  Her breath blew from her lungs in frustration. “What?” She found her hand about to scratch her face and barely stopped herself in time from rubbing under the bandages.

  “I need you to hack the Bank of Trade and steal the funds the United States sent them for covert operations. You know their semi-repetitive line numbers, and their source and destination accounts, from when Wing’s team, including you, hacked Project SafePay. My guess is that there is somewhere around a half billion dollars in the assorted accounts. Oh, and, it’s yours to keep.”

  Her face relaxed. It was an easy task, and not one that would take long. “Why me? Why not Wing or Brown or Tyler?”

  “Because, I uh, I want to, I—”

  She was suddenly filled with suspicion. Shimmel had never choked on words with her before. Her speech was slow, every word deliberate. “Calm down, Avram. What’s troubling you?”

  She heard him take a deep breath. “The money is for you. Payment, so I can buy The Swiftshadow Group from you.”

  The breath left her lungs in a solid whoosh. She staggered to a chair while Lee watched.

  The concern spread on Lee’s face. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  She sat. Seconds passed while she worked out what was happening. When she understood, she nodded although Shimmel couldn’t see. “No need. I’ll give it to you. No need to buy it.”

  “Wrong. I never gave you a wedding present. And I’m getting married too. So this is an exchange. I’m giving Lee and you money—lots of it—and you’re giving me something I can use to amuse myself and my bride.”

  She grinned, a warm feeling spreading through her. “Congratulations, Avram. Who’s the lucky lady?”

  She could feel his smile, three thousand miles away. “Someone I met decades ago. We served together in the Israeli military, and then in Mossad. Her name used to be Shula Ries. Now she’s Sandra Rubin. You know her. She works for a bank in New York. So, then, will you do it? For me? For my bride?”

  She smiled again. “Yes, Avram. But of course I will.”

  “Take all the money from the current accounts we identified. Put it somewhere, anywhere safe, and cover your tracks. Let me know as soon as it’s done, Cassandra. There’s someone I must tell.”

  CHAPTER 35

  April 26, 2:28 p.m.

  Abdul’s Revenge, A Middle Eastern Eatery,

  just off Highway 1, Devil’s Slide, California

  Cassie handed the shopping list to Lee. “Be sure to pick up at least sixty lamb shanks at the restaurant supply store. That new recipe was a big hit last night. Oh, and we’re low on carrots and out of artichokes, so stop at the farmer’s market.”

  He nodded and kissed her cheek on the side with the smaller of the two bandages. “Happy hacking.” Seconds after he closed the door to the restaurant, she bounced up the stairs to their living quarters. She heard the van’s engine start and watched through the hallway window as he drove toward Highway 1. Hours ago, Ann left for the City Hall to get paper copies of documents she needed for a social studies report. Cassie was alone now, except for the looming black cat.

  As she settled into the desk seat in Ann’s bedroom, Gizmo popped onto her lap and folded into a ball. The cat raised its head and she stroked its chin. She took a deep breath and pulled up a Microsoft Word document on her screen, called “hacking intel.” She continued petting the cat as she read through her notes on the Bank of Trade’s firewall, LAN management, and recovered passwords. She flexed her fingers and keyed the bank’s Internet address. In minutes she was at the firewall. She tried the first password, “mohammad.” No love. Her fingers stopped as she stared at the “access denied” message. Okay, so maybe this would be more difficult than she’d thought. Back to the Word document, she scanned the other passwords. She tried the next one. No. And the next. But there’d been changes since her last visit and none of them worked. Time for the heavy artillery. She opened a folder on the hard disk that containing hacking utilities and selected one. Then she copied the bank’s Internet firewall URL into the program and started the program. She left to get herself a cup of coffee.

  About an hour later, the front door downstairs opened. “Mom, Dad? I’m home.”

  Cassie was deep in thought and remained seated, her fingers punching keys. She smirked, not hearing her daughter. “Gotcha.” Ann entered her bedroom and watched. Cassie didn’t even notice. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, screens changing faster than every second.

  Ann moved closer and watched silently over her mom’s shoulder. She remained motionless nodding at the keys Cassie punched and the resulting screens. “You’re hacking into a bank, mom?”

  Cassie froze. “Huh?” She looked into the full-length mirror on Ann’s closet and saw her daughter’s reflection. “When did you get home?”

  Ann shook her head. “Sheesh, Mom, I’ve been here watching you for at least ten minutes. What’s this all about?”

  Cassie swiveled on the desk chair and faced her daughter. “It’s a favor for Avram.” And her face changed, going from flat to a frown, and then a smile. “And he’s buying Swiftshadow in return for this.”

  Ann remained motionless. In a flat tone she said, “Oh. Okay, then. So you won’t be doing anything dangerous ever again? Cool. Uh, when can I have my computer back? Got homework.”

  Cassie nodded. “Give me fifteen more minutes.” She faced the screen. “Well, maybe twenty.”

  * * *

  As the last dinner guest left the restaurant, Cassie and Lee cleaned the dining room. When they were done, she faced Lee and told him the essence of what she’d done. “I recovered seven hundred sixty-two million dollars from the Bank of Trade. Some of the cash came from dummy accounts operated by intelligence agencies of the United States. Some came from recipient organizations. These included terrorists, organized crime, and weapons merchants. And, sheesh, it was hard work. Took over three hours.”

  Her face formed a frown and she felt pain streak across her face from stretching the flesh on her cheeks. “But, there was something else, and I can’t figure it out. Yeah. Most hackers wouldn’t have had the background to put it all together. So, I have most of it done, except for the missing piece. A big one, and I can’t do the work.”

  Lee placed the last chair atop its table. “Stop bragging.” He grabbed two large plastic bags filled with garbage. “Anything else now, or are we free for the evening?” It was a long-standing joke. They’d both be too tired to do anything but watch the news and go to sleep.

  She nodded. “Uh, just one last thing. I have to call Avram.

  She picked up the GNU Radio and punched in a number. “Avram, I finished the hack. All the cash is in Swiftshadow’s bank account at First Manhattan. I know it’s getting late for you and you must be tired. But there’s something I discovered during the hack.”

  “Thanks. What was it?”

  She frowned as she spoke, and felt another bolt of pain shoot through her face. “Ouch! I believe the Bank of Trade wasn’t just the conduit for the payments. It was also being used to set up an economic disaster.”

  Shimmel didn’t react to her pain. “I just found out. Wing and his team discovered it was scheduled for the same day as the commencement of World War Three.”

  She nodded. “Even if the war is prevented, those funds would have destroyed the free markets. There were massive put options. For almost every stock. Held in the bank’s own treasury.”

  There was silence on the oth
er end of the line. “So. We’ve inadvertently prevented yet another disaster.”

  She paced. “This one’s for free. But there’s something else. I found indications in the bank’s ledgers that trouble me. Seems there’s lots more going on pertaining to SafePay and the links seem to be to computers that aren’t connected to any network. The computers holding the target data might be air-gapped. You’ll need someone on the inside to supply you with the records. So sorry.”

  There was a long pause on the other end. “Someone must enter and work at the bank covertly?”

  She tensed. “Absolutely. Not me. Someone who already works there and has earned their trust. We need to find someone, turn them, run them. Soon. Yesterday. They can easily remount this op.”

  She could hear Shimmel breathing. He cursed in Hebrew, at least she thought it was a curse from the tone of his voice. “Thanks for doing what you did. I’ll see if there’s a way to take care of it. Wish me luck. Have a good night.”

  When he terminated the call, she wondered if luck would be enough.

  * * *

  The street outside the restaurant One if by Land, Two if by Sea was noisy, with cars, trucks, busses, and taxis all sounding horns in the evening rush-hour traffic. Sandra Rubin cautiously mounted the steps, shifting her weight as she climbed. She swept away the hair that was threatening to fall into her face. Looked into the compact mirror and decided this was as good as she could be. She walked slowly, without the canes that had accompanied her for over two years. It had taken weeks of intensive exercise and therapy, but she staggered to the table where Avram Shimmel sat waiting. She was pleased Judy Hernandez had recommended the place to Shimmel as best for a date.

  She found Avram whispering something to the wine steward. He looked up, obviously surprised as she approached, and shooed the steward away.

  He rose and moved behind her, assisting as she sat. “Thanks, Avram.” She placed her arms against the table. “So, tell me, do I suit you?”

  He grinned like a schoolboy. “Ach, yes. Yes, you do. And am I to your liking?”