by David Hunter
~ ~ ~
Reminiscing has its place but his pocket watch showed it time to toss the coin. Standing up, something he knew sent his wife and daughter into a fright, he tossed it into the air. Damn, one of the slaves for the third night in a row. He hoped for young vanilla dessert this time. "Well now," Martin mused, "time honored tradition must be followed." Maybe just this once he'd slightly break with tradition and take a few steps toward his own door. Hearing two slight cries Martin smiled, did an about-face pivot on the heel of one boot, briskly walking down the steps of the porch toward the slave shack. He'd have to keep 'em guessing more often!
Though he certainly didn't need to cloak anything he did under the cover of darkness he appreciated the cooler time of nightfall which allowed him greater energy to satiate his unbridled passions.
In no less than the shake of a lamb's tail from the time Martin entered the run-down wooden shack he ripped the rags-for-a-dress of one of the cowering slave girls. Her pleas for him to spare her daughter tonight covered the slight sound of the door, wide leather straps for hinges, opening quickly again. Another white man stepped into the tiny living area that served as kitchen, living, and sleeping quarters. Modern-day jail cells for the worst murderers were more luxurious, Jeff thought, than what served as a home for this family.
Before Martin's brain fully registered not fright but the presence of surprise in the eyes of his plaything, his neck was cleanly broken.
As his body slumped to the dirt floor Jeff threw the note he wrote on Martin's still exhaling chest yelling "Rot in hell 'ya dang thief" in the direction of the main house.
Jeff made a hasty, well-planned exit back into the woods after first looking to make sure that the women in the main house, as well as all of the people in other slave huts, came out to get a good look at him. In this darkness, with nothing but a few candles and what little lantern light spilled out the open door of one of the shacks, they would be able to see that he was a white man in the uniform of the Confederacy, nothing more. This description, supported with the note left with the body, would be enough to exonerate both family and slaves of the murder.
Jeff hoped that when he returned to his own time that there would be something noted in the annals of written history on this family so he could know for himself how they faired. Though he really had no logical responsibility for Martin's family or the slaves at all, nonetheless he felt responsible much in the same vein that an old proverb held that if one saved a life one was responsible for the welfare of that life. He remembered a teaching in the Talmud, "When you save a soul, you save the entire world."
Maybe it was the terrors he witnessed in their lives these last couple of days that made Jeff feel a kind of closeness to these people. As difficult as taking a life was, even one as reprehensible as the late Martin McGlothlin, he felt a certain peace about it knowing that this devil incarnate would never again hurt another person.
Jeff wondered what Martin's wife and daughters would do once they realized he was permanently out of their lives and they were beyond his grasp. He hoped that things were in order so that his wife would keep the house where her daughters could grow up in relative safety. Perhaps they would have to flee as the Union Army encroached, then again perhaps not. A comfortable house it nonetheless wasn't large enough to quarter more than five or six soldiers, certainly not large enough to confiscate for any other military purpose.
Then there was the matter of nature versus nurture, a hotly debated topic in his time. With father and husband gone would the daughters' lives be improved sufficiently for them to grow up happy and strong or had the damage already been done? Would his wife have to remarry so she could have the money to keep her house and food on the table? In this time, especially in the South, it was almost certain she would. Jeff hoped that in such a case a good man would be in her future.
Such musings helped to pass the time as Jeff quickly, but not so much so as to arouse the suspicions of any observer, made his way back to the landing area. The scientists didn't believe it necessary to return to the physical place where he landed in order to initiate the return sequence but having come so far why take a needless risk now? Besides, he buried the small device at the base of a large tree rather than risk carrying it on his person. It proved a decision that served him well. Without a doubt it spared his life when captured by the Confederate soldiers.
Checking his surroundings carefully, confirming himself to be alone, Jeff retrieved the device from where he buried it. Activating it, he once again stepped through space-time.
Table of Contents
10. Stick in a River
"I must govern the clock, not be governed by it." - Golda Meir
Near Rishon L'Tzion, State Of Israel
Dr. No'am Abrams was deep in thought about the history that was about to be made, and re-made. For how long have humans postulated the possibility of travel through time, either as strict observers or as now as those who would intentionally tamper with past events?
He recalled heated arguments among his peers and professors in the world of academia, those happy days of theory construction and inevitable scholarly deconstruction. Endless postulating. While each theory was discussed and morphed into new theories, it all came down to, "Can it be done, and if so, how? Additionally what are the consequences to current and future events and peoples?"
He remembered one teacher lecturing on time as a river. No, not the old theory of Dr. Einstein about a man standing at a river as a metaphor for the passage of time – seeing past, present and future depending on how the river was situated, rather the 'Stick in the River' argument. This argument, really any theory being little more than an argument until proven or refuted, stated that minor changes in time would be like a stick floating down a river. Odds are that the stick would float merrily on its way until it settled on a bank. It is possible that the stick might lodge onto something else, then other items accumulate one-by-one until a dam was created to truly distort the path of the river. This was unlikely because, theoretically anyway, time is a strong and fast moving river, therefore throwing a stick into it shouldn't have any substantially negative outcome.
No'am and his team, Lt. General Ashkelon, the Prime Minister, and a few guests from the other two Project facilities would witness the first stick in the river and whatever effects, if any, said stick had in the downstream waters of their own time and circumstances.
A round-the-clock team monitored surveillance cameras in the area, awaiting Jeff's return. Not knowing exactly where he would land but believing it should be at the very departure point if the GPS on both ends functioned as they should, with the GPS on Jeff's device activating once it entered the current time stream and connected to the requisite satellites. Nervous anticipation grew as this mission was expected to require just a few days, maybe a week at most. More than two weeks had passed.
As they awaited his return, records outside the temporal shielding were also constantly monitored and compared to those within the facility.
No change in any of the McGlothlin family records. Nothing. Was the science flawed? Perhaps something happened to Stauffenberg in the past, or perhaps he never reached that time, his body scattered in atoms among the stars due to some miscalculation.
Video feeds and McGlothlin family genealogical records were continually monitored while scientists in each of the three facilities poured over their notes, checking then rechecking their calculations and calibrations.
Now it was known that an object moving from one point in time to another made no sound, nor was there any attendant light, gust of air, or other effect. These were Quantum Leaps on a mega level. A Quantum Leap, in short, is when a particle - such as an electron orbiting the nucleus of an atom - moves instantly from point "a" to point "c" without crossing or touching or even passing through point "b." The exact how of Quantum Leaps remained elusive, though they were successfully duplicated by his team after countless attempts and refinements.
Other crucial aspects
such as Quantum Entanglement and artificial Einstein-Rosen Bridges commonly known as "Black Holes" come into play. Another Facility devised a way to create a stable Black Hole, smaller than a molecule, for just a fraction of a second.
Jeff's return was, in nearly every way, anti-climatic. A couple of scientists working in the cavernous room when he landed didn't even notice him as he stood there, dazed and weakened from his ordeal.
Though the landing itself wasn't awe inspiring, the results were anything but.
The team had two identical books that were compiled on the descendants of Martin McGlothlin. One located in a highly secure building outside the shielded facility, the other in the facility with history books, magazines, and newspapers of various countries - but especially the United States - for specific events of historic or personal, to the team members and leaders of various countries, interest.
In addition to these printed and compiled newspapers, books, and magazines, there were thousands of reels of microfilm and tens of thousands of sheets of microfiche of newspapers and genealogies in the shielded areas. The entire facility was shielded to protect the work and research from time changes. The same was true of the other two facilities in The Project with their identical twins outside the shielded area.
Those who were shielded when time changed would remember the old timeline, as well as be able to instantly integrate into the new space-time frame once they left the protection of the shielding. The psychologists at the other facility felt that this emotional and physical adjustment would be relatively easy and smooth, provided the differences in the timelines were not too significant in terms of world, or personal history.
Moshe and the heads of the other facilities, along with the Prime Minister were in a facility conference room, planning how they could salvage and retool the apparently failed Project when news came of Jeff's return.
Surprise, then cautious excitement, charged the previously sullen atmosphere as they followed the Prime Minster and General Ashkelon to the area where Jeff awaited.
He appeared visibly different - physically at least, and considerably worse for the wear compared to when he first stepped through time to arrive in the Civil War. Smiling as he recognized faces familiar to him he nearly passed out, slowly steadied himself, then looked at those nearest him. With that impish grin of his he winked at Moshe. As if of one mind, cheers and back-slapping erupted throughout the group.
Following the cheers and brief joviality a silent stillness prevailed, as the unspoken question circulated in everybody's mind, "Was the mission in the past successful and, if so, were the desired outcomes realized?"
First and foremost he needed medical attention, and quickly. For all of the doctors assembled, only one was a bona fide surgeon. He and Dr. Siwel got Jeff on a cot, then carefully removed his shirt and pants, noting the latter were darkened with a copious amount of fresh blood. Rachael also took note of the fact that he wasn't wearing the uniform he had on when he departed.
Both were shocked to see so much physical trauma evident. It was difficult for either to wrap their heads around the fact that in just over two weeks Jeff had been in a fight, received a severe wound to his leg, and had undergone surgery. Heaven only knew what else. Physical injuries taking precedence over any other consideration the medical doctor went to work assessing the damage, cleaning and dressing the wound that showed no sign of infection, though he administered a wide-spectrum antibiotic as a clearly indicated preventative course of action. He also gave Jeff a large glass of water to drink. An IV drip placed at the ready should it be required for additional fluids and an overnight course of antibiotics. Such a measure was possibly unnecessary, but wise nonetheless.
After Stauffenberg had being treated, then cleared of being in any immediate medical danger, the conversation began to swell with nearly all speaking in excited, hurried voices. Though the room was large, larger in fact than several mid-sized American homes put side-by-side, it still seemed too small to contain the excitement and shared wonder.
Calmer, more focused minds took over, led by Ashkelon whose immediate concern was the military application of the experiment. The results of the anticipated history alteration would determine the ultimate success or failure of this initial, all-important experiment.
"Dr. Abrams, please contact your facility, ask them to compare their McGlothlin records with the unshielded records."
"No need sir, a message has already come through. The McGlothlin genealogy records outside the shielding shifted from those in my facility. They delayed contacting me because they wanted to confirm it for themselves. It appears that the records shift happened simultaneously with Jeff's landing in our own time frame."
Again cheers filled the cavernous space.
"Incredible!" The demeanor of the Prime Minister manifested the diametric opposite of the person he had been during the meeting moments earlier. "Please call your assistant in the unshielded archives. Ask him to read from page 20 of the McGlothlin Family History on video. We'll put our page up on the wall monitor for comparison."
The face of his assistant filled half of the enormous split-screen as the other half displayed a projection of the page inside the shielded archives:
"Page 20. Andrew Martin McGlothlin, born 14 December 1793 in Alexandria, Virginia, United States. Son of Doc and Sara McGlothlin. Married Inez Johnson, daughter of William Smith Johnson and Mary Jane Roth, 12 June 1815 – same town."
"Children" the assistant continued to read.
"James Steven McGlothlin – born 15 April 1816, Alexandria, Virginia, United States, died, killed in battle, 30 November 1863, Pigeon Forge, Tennessee – survived by wife Mary, son James Jr., and daughter Hannah.
Martin Joseph McGlothlin, born 25 August 1817, Alexandria, Virginia, United States, died, murdered at home 23 June 1864, Roanoke, Virginia – survived by wife, Belle, daughters Sarah and Annabelle.
Sara Jane McGlothlin – born 07 July 1818, Alexandria, Virginia, United States, died 18 June 1856, cancer, Alexandria, Virginia – survived by husband, James Olmos, and son, Frederick Olmos.
William Smith McGlothlin – born 03 January 1820, Alexandria, Virginia, United States, died, pneumonia, 10 December 1822, Roanoke, Virginia.
Baby Boy McGlothlin – stillborn, 19 March 1821, Roanoke, Virginia, United States.
Lucille Mame McGlothlin – born 23 August 1822, Roanoke, Virginia, United States – died 21 July 1877, Honaker, Virginia – survived by children, sons Bruce and David and daughters Cheryl, Denise, Lynn and Kathy."
Cheers erupted yet again, accompanied by more back slapping, hugs and hand shaking. No'am asked the assistant to confirm that there was a Martin McGlothlin recorded as murdered at home in 1864. Confirmation was made verbally as the page was scanned and e-faxed to him for secondary verification.
There, between James and Sara, could be found the name of Martin McGlothlin. But the death date was therein listed as more than two decades later, of the Consumption. He was listed as being survived by his youngest daughter and two sons, including Martin McGlothlin, Jr.
Next researchers went scurrying to compare datum: names, dates, times, events, financial markets, world leaders, and etcetera, with their counterparts outside the shielded area. While they would require months to compare every detail available in the thousands of rolls of microfilm and sheets of microfiche, as well as the mega quads of digitally-stored data, there were certain key global events and persons of note that were immediately checked and cross-verified. It appeared that the experiment was a stunning success, beyond what anybody had reasonably dreamed. Pending the outcome of the comparison of facts of history they would be able to move forward.
It was always theorized that at the very instant a change in the past had been effected resulting ripple effects would be immediately apparent in the present. Knowing now that Jeff's mission was a complete success, but that there were no changes until after he landed again, a new theory would arise. It postulated that only the return of the person or pe
rsons in the present would be the catalyst for completing the change in the past and its ripple effects through history to the present. They also weren't sure why he was unable to return to the very moment from whence he left. Theories until now unchallenged, for want of any genuine Scientific Method to prove or disprove, would be rewritten or discarded. Much was still unknown but it appeared possible that time wasn't quite the meandering river it was once thought to be.
Cigars were lit and champagne, which seemed to magically appear ex nihilo, flowed freely. This directly flaunted the "written on the tablets of Sinai" rule of no drinking or smoking during the course of The Project. If anybody remembered, let alone objected, they were wise to keep it to themselves. A bottle of Jeff's favorite chocolate milk from the American chain store Safeway was already opened and poured into a fluted glass for him.
The Prime Minister, usually given to making speeches himself, asked Jeff if he felt sufficiently well to offer the toast.
Standing shakily but resolute, chin held high, Jeff considered what he should say in a toast to celebrate a victory shared by all. At such a jubilant but also somber moment only one seemed appropriate to him, "Kol hakavod yedidim sheli. L'chiam!" - Good job my friends. To Life!
"L'chiam!" the response arose in loud unison. It was important to always remember the ultimate goal, that being the sanctity of life and the often painful decisions and actions required to maintain it for the majority as well as the often defenseless minority.
Mimicking the joy shared by all the others in the gathering, one person in the room had to stop himself from shaking with frustration and personal recrimination. At the first opportunity he would make a grim report to Abd El-Monem Abou through his new "handler" in Israel while Mona was away for a couple of weeks to resettle once again.
Without question Abd would be furious that the landing proved successful. As he couldn't bring records outside the shielded area as proof, even photocopied pages would instantly change once they passed into the new timeline, perhaps he could make his report without full disclosure.
Getting away from his responsibilities with Lt. General Ashkelon was never an easy task, but given the many consecutive days he had been working he felt sure he could secure a couple of days leave.
It would be nice to see Mona again, just one of the benefits of his job. The millions of US dollars in his Swiss account was a singular benefit in and of itself, but time with her came in as a distinct tie. With the uncertainty of the Euro, thanks largely to Socialism and greed, he insisted on American dollars.
Not being a scientist or privy to the scientific details of The Project he simply couldn't find a way to postpone this first phase, this first landing. There was no viable reason to postpone it and he knew he couldn't bluff his way into an excuse with the General.
Immediately after the toast Jeff was reported to the facility's medical center for some 21st century treatment. The MD admired his 19th century counterpart. Stauffenberg would, thanks in large part due to the excellent – if slightly antiquated - care he received, make a full recovery in short order. It was amazing how some things in medicine had not changed all that much from nearly 150 years ago.
Remove a bullet, clean the wound as best as possible to try to prevent infection, stitch it up, let nature to do the rest while hoping that no infection be introduced post-op. The only difference of note was that 21st century medicine would also administer antibiotics, unavailable in the 19th. He made a mental note to ask Jeff about the circumstance of the surgery and what he remembered about the doctor who performed it.
After Jeff left the room to go to the infirmary, flanked by two men in case he required assistance, the room started again buzzed with excited conversation. Rachael had never witnessed such animation in her colleagues before. She shared their jubilation as she slowly sipped the champagne, relief and excitement replacing the concern and doubt that had hung over The Project so very recently.
She wanted to give the medical team time and space to work on Jeff. After he had time to rest and begin recovery, there were questions she needed to ask him.
Table of Contents
11. Betrayal of Love
" [...] that Schrödinger's cat is in a quantum state, where it is half alive and half dead. He feels that can't correspond to reality. [...] Quantum theory does this very successfully. It predicts that the result of an observation is either that the cat is alive or that it is dead. It is like you can't be slightly pregnant: you either are or you aren't. " -The Nature of Space and Time (1996) by Stephen Hawking and Roger Penrose, p. 121
Jerusalem, State of Israel - six years ago
Avi Ben-Levi had been out to celebrate. He was the youngest person to be promoted to work on Lt. General Dan Ashkelon's staff. Not only was he the youngest, he outranked most of the other staff members. He wasn't a vain man but he was realistic and ambitious. He already earned a good salary and loved his work in the Tzahal.
After his required time in the military serving as a paratrooper Avi reenlisted and applied for officer's training. Approved for service with a special unit, a bad landing from a helicopter jump due to a sudden wind gust just shy of landfall forced a career change.
Ever since he thanked his lucky stars for that broken ankle and three cracks in the femur of the other leg. Not only did it alter his career path, he found himself briefly in the same rehabilitation center with Shoshanna, daughter of a high-ranking officer on Lt. General Dan Ashkelon's staff.
Private Shoshanna Aharonson was recovering from her own injury sustained during an incursion in the Gaza Strip after more than three thousand rockets were fired into Israeli territory. Avi was visiting her in a room she shared with three other female soldiers when her mother walked in for a visit.
Thrilled to see her, and eager for her mom to meet her new friend, Avi was introduced to Captain Isabella Aharonson.
Captain Aharonson had a commanding presence when she entered a room. While not beautiful in the standard sense imposed by Hollywood on the television-addicted, she had a look about her – almost an aura – that captured the visual attentions of nearly every male from ten years of age upward to elderly men knocking at death's door.
Her daughter, Isabella, on the other hand, wasn't so fortunate in any sense of physical beauty. What she lacked in allure was compensated by her vivacious personality.
Avi was surprised when Shoshannah or 'Shoshi,' the diminutive form of her name, hobbled up to him and started talking. She was in a leg cast with crutches, having spent nearly a week laid-up in bed.
She recognized him as a player on a soccer team from years ago, a team that her own team from a neighboring high school roundly trounced and sent home with a shameful 20-0 loss. He remembered that game too. He was the goalie when a gangly girl with braces and legs the length of a giraffe that made the final goal before time ran out. Small world. It seemed to him an irony that two star players of their respective teams should bump into each other in a physical rehabilitation center, each on crutches.
Avi and Shoshi became fast friends. A few days later, when her mom visited, it was natural for her – seeing their friendship – to give her daughter a knowing eye coupled with a nearly invisible grin. Shoshi slightly shook her head "no," it wasn't like that. Well, a mother can hope. Given his background and evident intelligence, he clearly had a future in any career of his choosing.
She told the "kids" when they both had healed sufficiently, Shoshannah - formal name for her daughter, he took note - should bring him by the office for a visit and she'd introduce him to some friends there.
In less than two weeks' time on the first workday morning, Sunday, Avi found himself in the office of Captain Isabella Aharonson. The building and tight security were indeed impressive; all the more so was the handsomely decorated office of Capt. Aharonson. The walls were mahogany inlaid around the ceiling, floorboards and doors with geometric, beautifully detailed patterns fashioned from native Israeli olive wood. The furnishings were ornate without being gra
ndiose. Two chairs in front of her desk were a rich dark wood frame with a comfortable red leather seat and back. The carpet was a coffee-and-cream color that, surprisingly, seemed to work well with the rest of the office. Her desk, also mahogany, displayed an organized chaos that included a single framed picture of Shoshi. He thought it possible that she was divorced or widowed, not a topic of idle chat. He made sure to steer clear of family inquiries on that first visit.
During the visit General Ashkelon knocked on the open door and let himself in for a few words with the Captain. Concluding, he smiled at Shoshi and warmly told her how glad he was to see her up and around. Shoshi and Avi both immediately stood up and saluted as he entered, remaining standing at attention. Before leaving he gave Shoshi a warm hug as he left the office without so much as acknowledging Avi, save it be for a brief nod in his direction. At his departure they sat in the plush leather chairs again and continued the visit.
A few months later, during his officer's training, Shoshi would visit regularly. Once her mother sent him homemade cookies. The latter came as a surprise, he did not peg her as someone who would be comfortable in the kitchen. Tasting the cookies, he was glad to be wrong.
Years came and passed. While their relationship never blossomed into anything resembling a romance, their friendship remained solid. A confirmed bachelor, he liked to "play the field" where women were concerned. Though he didn't have the looks that made most women to do a double-take, he did maintain enough of an exercise regimen that he could have found a job modeling for fitness magazines. Women seemed to go out of their way to appreciate this quality in him. Avi was never in want of lady friends.
Shoshi, on the other hand, preferred stability in her life and accepted the third proposal of marriage that came her way much to her mother's relief. Her mom let it be known several times that it was about time she had grandchildren of her own. The first couple years of marriage it appeared that Shoshi might not be able to conceive. A few trips by her mom to pray at Rachel's Well and expensive, in-vitro procedures brought about the desired results and then some – triplets!
Avi was regarded by both peers and superiors as someone who would make his way to the "top" in the military bureaucracy. Smart, ambitious, able to utilize an incredible memory regarding everything he saw and heard, he was a man on a mission. His goal was to retire young enough to enjoy a lifestyle that he wanted to eventually be his.
He thought often of his parents, finally able to retire but with advancing years catching up, they found themselves unable to travel as they had hoped upon retirement. Becoming a member of the senior staff had been one of his short-term steps to achieve this ultimate goal. He loved his parents and respected their lives of sacrifice and hard work, he just didn't want to end-up like them.
Perhaps he'd make a name for himself in the military hierarchy and then go into politics. An affable, easy-going style and strong communication skills were qualifications going in his favor. Not only that but when he talked with you he spoke with you, as if you were the only person in the world. One never felt like he was thinking about anything or anybody else while conversing with him. During conversation, his dark brown, nearly black eyes held your own as if he were peering deeply into your soul, assessing your character. Yet he did this without causing any discomfort or crossing personal boundaries. One almost felt this psychic drilling into your very being was an integral and important part of the conversation and that, without, it there could be no true two-way conversation.
After five years of officer and command experience he again came to the attention of Lt. General Ashkelon. When asked about a replacement for a staff member about to serve in a foreign embassy, Shoshi's mother didn't hesitate for a second to recommend Avi.
By the end of the day his dossier was on Ashkelon's desk. Given his impressive résumé, excellent reviews by all of his commanders, recommendations by several people – not least of whom was Captain Isabella Aharonson - he was the obvious choice. Ashkelon valued Isabella's opinion above all others in professional matters. Once Avi's background check came back nearly flawless (he had some fighting problems back in high school but never a problem since) Ashkelon felt no hesitation inviting him to serve on the General Staff of the Tzahal.
Two days later, in the General's office, he accepted the formal invitation. Avi didn't seem at all surprised by the offer. The General wondered if Shoshanna had given him advanced notice or if he was simply that sure of himself. Either way it was clear he would make a valuable contribution as a member of the General's Senior Staff.
Yes, he had reason to celebrate with his buddies. Careful to not self-inebriate, due to an alcohol-related brawl that turned ugly in his youth, Avi slowly sipped a beer while watching his friends continue celebrating for him at a more accelerated pace. Out of the corner of an eye, garnering his full attention, he saw the most perfect vision of beauty enter the room. To say that she took his breath away would be an understatement. It was obvious from the simultaneous and decidedly unabashed look of the men's eyes in the bar, his wasn't a singular experience.
Avoiding his glance, which was little less than an all-out stare, Mona went up to the bar and ordered her drink. Either she was unaware of the singular attention she was attracting, or she was so accustomed to it that not acknowledging them was second nature for her. After about thirty minutes of deftly avoiding the overtures of two would-be suitors, she put her near-empty glass down on the bar counter while almost imperceptibly sighed. He saw a chance and jumped on it.
Motioning the bartender over he gave him an ample amount of money to cover any drink. He asked the bartender to pour her another round of whatever she was drinking, keeping the change as a tip. The very happy bartender, with a sizable tip noted on his account, brought a second drink over to her. He watched as the bartender pointed him out, saw her look directly at him - his heart skipped a beat - and nod a "thank you." Again she turned her attention to her drink and her own reflection in the long mirror behind the bar.
The nod seemed genuine, though no doubt many a man had paid for her drinks in the past. Avi wondered if it got them anywhere. No matter, he knew he was certainly no ordinary man. He decided it was time to show her that he was somebody she would want to get to know better.
He casually got up and sidled closer to her. As soon as a bar stool next to her became free he beat two other guys also negotiating the opportunity to get a chance to introduce themselves. Not one to be deterred, he shot a threatening alpha male glance in their direction, assuring his seat next to this raven beauty.
Winning the bar stool next to hers, the first mission had been neatly accomplished. Next step, win a place in her heart – if only for the night. This woman was so extraordinarily beautiful he might consider letting it go as long as a week, maybe two, before cutting her loose to move on to the next woman who caught his eye.
Both played their roles well at the small chit-chat one usually employs at such times and places as this. As the evening wore on the music and conversations around them grew louder while the population of patrons continued to grow. The cacophony finally reached the point where they had to shout at each other just to be heard. Avi had tested the waters long enough to know that she was ready and willing.
"Do you want to stay in this crowded dive any longer?" Avi asked her.
"No, the noise is just too much! I was thinking of going home, unless you have a better idea." Mona said this with the feeble smile of a person caught in an awkward situation, though her eyes made it clear she was serious, wanting to spend more time with him.
"I live in a small house about ten kilometers from here. A relic from a moshav that once operated there, it's where I was raised. I bought it from my parents when they decided to move to the city. Would you like to see it?"
"Mission accomplished." Mona thought. "Sounds like a plan to me. I spent some time on a moshav myself. Only briefly though, my parents had to move around quite a bit. It's a long story."
"Well why don't you come ba
ck to my place for a nightcap and tell me your long story? We have all night."
In his living room she made herself comfortable and completely at-home, as if she had always been there. Her demeanor made him equally comfortable with her. It was as if she belonged, as if her presence was as familiar to him as his furnishings. Her easy laugh, the way she casually – thoughtlessly – brushed her long, flowing hair back as she spoke, were charms in and of themselves.
She told him about her parents' flight from Iran when she was a young girl. "Ah," he thought, "this explains her slight Farsi accent." True Zionist and freedom fighters for her people and other minorities in Iran, death threats and even a firebomb thrown into a window of their flat in Tehran forced their hasty exodus.
They found a home, a safe haven, in Israel. Then there was the fatwa, a contract on the lives of her and her parents after their escape. Neither her parents, nor even Mona, could stay in one place for any appreciable length of time. They could not put down roots as this would endanger themselves and the people to whom they grew close. Sighing, she admitted it to be a lonely life but that she had no lasting regrets.
The two weeks that he decided he might invest in Mona grew into months, then a year. Avi detected a few inconsistencies in that time. Given the fact that she was always moving and had to keep reinventing herself just to stay alive and safe, he was neither surprised by them nor particularly alarmed. He always looked forward to their time together. Between their emotional and physical connections he started to think that he'd like to settle down with her.
Considering the status of his senior position in the General Staff this would be enough to give her the protection she sought, a sense of normalcy as well as the possibility of her own family that she often said she wanted.
The night he proposed to Mona was just over a year from the night he first met her. The conclusion of that night would end dramatically differently.
Avi had it all arranged and bought the most beautiful of engagement rings at an Arab shook in the Old City. The ring sparkled and glittered; he could not wait to see it on her hand. He knew that she'd realize that, being married to him, she would finally be safe and secure; more so than always moving from place to place. She was so frightened by those who wanted her family dead that he was only twice allowed to meet her at her flat late at night – even then only after careful planning to ensure he wasn't seen.
While he could not offer the same protection to her parents unless they lived with him, something he wasn't prepared to offer unless she broached the subject, he knew she would be safe with him.
The evening started out well enough, nice restaurant and Mona dazzled. He loved the way he felt with her on his arm. After the final course they would finish with another drink of white wine. The waiter, having the engagement ring in his hand in advance, effortlessly slipped it into her glass as he was pouring.
Raising their glasses she saw the ring, magnified and slightly distorted through the crystal. She looked at him, a mix of happiness and surprise, followed by a sadness that completed her expressive reaction. Avi was crestfallen.
"Dodie," she had been referring to Avi as her dodie the last several months, the ancient Biblical Hebrew word for my beloved, "nothing would make me happier, you know that. With all of my heart I want to say 'yes,' but I can't. I'm afraid I have not been completely honest with you. Seeing your feelings for me, knowing my feelings for you, I think you deserve to know everything so that you'll understand why we can't plan a life together. I am so sorry. I have wanted to tell you a million times but there never seemed to be a good moment."
The waiter, seeing the initial facial reactions and uneasy body language, understood that their guests wouldn't be getting engaged this evening after all. With impeccable professionalism and discretion he told the dining room staff to give them their space.
For the next half hour, what seemed like several hours to him, she told him that she wasn't really in Israel with her parents. It was true that her parents in Iran were outspoken critics of the regime, pro-Democracy and Zionists. The reality was that they were languishing in a jail reserved for political dissidents. Most likely they were being fed only a minimal amount needed to sustain life and, from what she knew of these prisons - one for men, one for women - frequent beatings at the hands of the guards and other prisoners were a way of life.
She went on to explain that she had been sent to Israel with fake identification papers and an Israeli passport to gain intelligence that she passed to her handlers, the people posing as her parents in Israel. They were, in reality, low-level Iranian government workers. Mona's only hope of getting her parents out of prison with their lives was to obtain information that the Iranian government required. Avi was, in fact, her main objective and their meeting in the bar that first night had been meticulously orchestrated.
Through tears and barely controlled sobs, she went on to tell him that, though her initial thoughts were only of her parents, she had grown to truly love him with all her heart and that she understood if he could not forgive her this deception, never to see her again, perhaps even report her to the authorities.
Avi, for his part, sat completely silent and still as a statue throughout the entire disclosure, remained as such for some time after she finished speaking. He simply was too stunned to say anything. Gathering his thoughts, along with his shattered feelings, was just not something he was able to instantly do. Eventually, though, he knew deep down that no matter what he loved Mona enough that they would get through this, and told her so.
They kissed, smiled, and held hands across the little round table. Their waiter, relieved to see the kiss from across the restaurant smiled, thinking that a wedding chuppa would be decorated soon enough. He approached the table, asking them if they would like more wine. Avi thanked him, complimenting both the food and service as excellent and asked for the bill.
Outside the restaurant they kissed again, then she told him that she needed to go home and rest. He understood and hailed a taxi for her. Returning to his home he downed a strong drink and retired to bed. For the first time, he felt grateful that he could not tell his parents about her. This latest turn of events, the loss of any prospect of marrying Mona and having their grandchildren, would have devastated them almost as much as it had him. To know such would never be theirs, at least as things looked now, would crush their spirits.
Things went precisely as she had expected. She played him like a fiddle. Knowing that he would soon propose, she anticipated the events of the evening and planned accordingly. Every word, every tear, she had predetermined with precision and pulled off her performance brilliantly. Reeling that promising scientist, No'am, had been her primary target. After her country learned of Avi's promotion to the military General Staff she was instructed to carefully build a relationship with him. Her handlers could not have been happier.
Both he and No'am were requiring an increasing amount of her time and attention. What was worse were the nights she had to spend with them to maintain the pretense. Such nights with Avi, unlike No'am, were not entirely revolting. While this meant that she had to work more at juggling time to accommodate these two sources, she had to admit to herself that she enjoyed a few aspects of her life undercover.
At times she had to acknowledge to herself that she grew rather fond of both of these men, much like she had been fond of a dog her family kept as a pet when she was a child. Like dogs, she had No'am and Avi eating out of her hand, eager to show their love and loyalty to her, grateful for the slightest of rewards she gave them.
Mona messaged her people working out of the Sinai Peninsula that she was on schedule with Avi. This last year had proved the psychological profile they had on him to be dead-on. He was completely sympathetic to her desperate situation and she would soon begin to tap him for information vital to the cause espoused by her group.
No'am, likewise, was exactly where she wanted him and was already divulging eye-popping details of his work to her. He was so eager to
impress he couldn't help himself, as was expected. With Avi it was love and sympathy. With No'am it was love and eagerness to prove and impress as a way to bolster his underdeveloped sense of self. No'am was already taking the first steps toward total betrayal of his country. He soon would. Second only to the blind devotion of dogs were human men! No'am and Avi didn't realize it but she already had them collared and on a short leash.
In a month, maybe two, she would make her way back to Tehran via a complex route through Europe and then Turkey using various forged passports and papers. Mona spoke fluent French, Spanish, and passable Turkish. She could barely wait to see the only man she loved and actually respected, Ghasem Suleimani.
Strong, self-assured and handsome, Ghasem remained the only man she knew that she couldn't manipulate. This latter attribute was the most important in Mona's mind. Regrettably, he was absolutely faithful to his wife. Ghasem must be aware of her feelings for him almost from the day he recruited her. She thought that he felt similarly. Even if he did she knew he would never say anything, nor would she. Above all they were both professionals. It really was a pity that there is a wife in the picture. The best traits of Avi and No'am combined could never even come close to Ghasem.
Mona would only have a few days to be briefed on her evolving assignment, debriefed on what she had thus far, then take a week or so to rest and clear her mind before returning to the dark underbelly of the Zionist entity.
She thought again about the evening and her brilliantly executed performance. Poor little hurt puppy Avi. He will be loyal and faithful to the very end. She almost felt sorry for him, almost. The Zionist swine would, in the end, get what he deserved along with the rest of his countrymen. Mona wouldn't be there to see his face when he finally realized what was happening. She wished she could to add salt to the wound by telling him of her own betrayal as he lay dying. She'd be well away when the weapons were unleashed. She'd have to be content with whatever television coverage there would be before the media inside Israel completely collapsed.
Finishing her brief, coded message she poured herself a glass of water and took an Ambien to relax and sleep. A faithful Muslim woman, the only time she consumed alcohol was in service to her people, her country, and her holy religion. The thought of touching alcohol, or even these filthy Jews, sent shivers up her spine.
As she went to sleep her last thoughts were of Israel being wiped from the map, the Jewish people being reduced to a population of just tens of thousands, not millions, scattered throughout the world. They would have no hope of coalescence as a nation ever again. The Americans, who had been such strong supporters of the Zionist regime, would be reduced from a world financial and military power to paupers living off of the mercy of other countries, especially hers.
That would be the case if a large world power such as China or Russia had neither the financial nor military capabilities, or were stupid enough to not see an opportunity and swoop in to take what plunder they could from the Americans. It made sense. The United States had borrowed extensively from China to prop up their own self-serving, hedonistic failures. With the coming collapse of the American government and economy, China would want to recoup whatever losses they could. There were few targets to be hit in China, leaving that country largely unscathed.
Shanghai had a Jewish presence of note that needed to be eradicated. The action would bring part of the city to its knees due to the secondary infections and deaths. A significant financial city and political power in China, it would be a kick in the gut to the country. They would recover fairly quickly. Fast enough to move in for the kill where a decimated United States and Europe were concerned. They would hesitate, but they would become the de-facto leading world power – with an economy, swelling population, and infrastructure that would remain heavily dependent on the Middle East for oil and ready cash that had any real value in the new economy.
Mona scanned an online news site for any articles of importance to the region before her sleeping pill took full effect. During the scan, she caught a headline that reported the Israeli Prime Minister yet again warned the international community about the near approximation of Iran to nuclear weapons capability, with the need to draw a "red line" that Tehran would understand. He continued to use the graphic of a round bomb with the fuse lit and burning. It looked like a cartoon, a joke even – not menacing at all.
It was decided that she would end her charade with No'am soon but not right away. While Avi could be counted on to keep his composure, it was a near certainty that No'am was too transparent and weak to hide his emotions. They would have to carefully maneuver him in a way that he was still providing scientific data while maintaining a solid cover that would not arouse suspicions. Shortly she would drop a bomb on No'am very similar to her conversation with Avi this evening. This last happy thought lulled her into a peaceful sleep.
Table of Contents
12. Betrayal of Country
"The strongest of all warriors are these two -- Time and Patience." - Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace
Near Rishon L'Tzion, State of Israel
Avi's relationship with Mona continued. He was happy, despite the fact that they could not be married. If anything, their connection seemed to intensify now that he was fully aware of the burden she must carry. Since the failed proposal he saw her cry, learning of her nightmares regarding the situation of her parents. Twice she was sent photos of them, bruised and swollen lips, with eyes swollen completely shut. The prison authorities sympathized with her situation but their hands were tied and they had to submit to the demands of the Iranian intelligence agents who frequently interrogated her parents, employing brutal means.
At first he only had to pass innocuous information to Mona to help keep her parents alive. She was promised that they would receive better food, even medical care if she continued to provide information.
Avi was surprised that the first request was just the names and general responsibilities of the people who worked most closely with Lt. General Ashkelon. He thought they would already have this information, it would not be that difficult to acquire as there was nothing state secret about those employed in the General's staff. He was, in fact, relieved that this was all he had to hand over.
Days after giving this information to her, she received pictures, sent with a postmark out of Belgium, of her parents. They looked much better without the bruising and swelling. Her mother was even wearing cleaner clothing without rips or stains.
About every 30 days for the first few months, he was asked for different bits of information. The next three were also items that were not sensitive, so Avi felt increasingly comfortable passing this information on. It helped ease the situation for her parents, her love and gratitude for his help ever evident at such times in her face. Each time, a few days later, pictures would arrive of each parent showing them gaining weight and looking healthier. He began to feel a certain pride in the way he was helping Mona and her parents.
The fourth month he was asked to provide information that made him a little uncomfortable. He was supposed to give her the General's itinerary for the next two weeks.
By this point, he had been read into many of the details of The Project, a necessity as he was working with increasing frequency with the General and coordinating much of the work involved therein between the three facilities and the General's office. Because the General had to visit each of the facilities often for updates and to download data into a main computer, his actual travel schedule and his schedule sometimes released to the media had discrepancies that were required to maintain appearances and secrecy.
Avi reconciled his concerns by providing her with the schedule that would in a day or two be provided to the media such as, "Thank you for your time and willingness to do this televised interview with us, General Ashkelon. We are sorry to have interrupted your vacation, enjoy the beach!"
Days later she received pictures of her parents, both severely beaten. Her mother on a filthy, thin mattress on her cell flo
or with blood covering her face, three of her fingers swollen at an angle that could only happen if they were broken. Her father appeared to be in even worse condition. The note stated that they would not tolerate misinformation. If it were to happen again her parents would be killed and his government would be sent proof of him passing information to the Iranian government: photographic, video and audio proof.
Mona was in a state of panic. Avi wasn't far behind. Trembling, he poured a drink to try and calm their nerves. Two drinks later he held her and whispered gently in her ear that he'd never put her parents in that kind of danger again. He added the fact that he would not provide sensitive information without some kind of proof that her parents would be released, and released shortly, as well as given the freedom to leave Iran for the destination of their choice. If he could be guaranteed their freedom and safety, then he would provide whatever information he could acquire, for as long as necessary.
Mona didn't believe this could be accomplished but he could tell her heart jumped at the prospect.
"Avi, write a letter to this effect. I'll translate it into Farsi. To once more embrace my parents, even if it meant my own death, would be a joy worth the forfeiture of my life."
"It won't come to that, I promise you. They have your parents, I have access to information that they need. I can attain information of which they have not yet dreamed. I'll give them something that will so amaze them they will gladly release your parents just to get more."
"But Avi, your job – your oath!"
"Mona, I know the risks to myself, even to my country. We are sufficiently insulated that even the information they receive will be unusable without the scientific background required to make any use of it. I can guarantee that with their exclusive focus on nuclear, chemical and bio weapons, they have not developed the sciences necessary to utilize the information I will provide. Your parents will be freed, they will be fed just enough information to keep them wanting more, enough to guarantee your parents' ongoing safety, and enough to guarantee that they not dare reveal me as the source lest they lose their only access. I'll also demand money. Not much, mind you, but enough so that if things go awry we can leave Israel to live comfortably in a country where we will never be found."
Cairo, Egypt; Tehran, Islamic Republic Of Iran.
"We have news from Mona." Abd announced. "Avi will provide the military specifications of their so-called Project. We will gain yet another weapon of terror and domination over the entire Middle East, over the world. He wants financial guarantees as well as the release from prison of the people he believes to be her parents. We'll wire money into the account he set up. We'll then release Mona's father but keep her mother in prison for a while longer, just to keep the leash tight and let him know that we, not he, are in control. We are planning a demonstration with the mother to show him exactly how serious we are."
"For Westerners it always comes down to money, doesn't it?" Ghasem questioned aloud. "How are things going with No'am?"
Abd's face lit up with the response. "Every bit as well, if not better. At least he's providing information strictly out of foolish love. For him there is no money motive. The irony is that he's much more intelligent than Avi but he's now practically throwing data at Mona. At least Avi is also getting financial compensation, though he'll not live long enough to enjoy it. The money is to be routed through banks in Saudi Arabia, Argentina, and finally Canada before the transfer is complete. We will get it back, though with a global financial crash it won't be worth very much beyond toilet paper. Our control over the oil fields of the Middle East, however; will assure continuity of our countries and holy religion."
Abd continued, "She is going to drop her charade with No'am at the next, best opportunity. She feels that she will get more information from him more quickly through blackmail than a feigned love relationship. She also feels that he is beginning to question her background, so coming clean now will make it easy for her to blackmail him based on what he has already told her, rather than having her hand forced. He can only provide scientific data. We will continue to pressure Avi for military use details."
"Very good, Abd." Ghasem was pleased with the progress. "On my end, our sleeper cells are increasing in number and in corresponding strength. We are now firmly in place in every target city and organization."
Abd continued with something of a scowl, "We have identified a few more sleepers who are starting to identify with their targets and have made friendships. This we knew would happen as they have to be in place for a few years to fully infiltrate for the attacks to be successful. In most cases, we simply transferred them to other areas as their background covers are not fully established. We did have one more couple, a family actually with two children attending a local high school, begin to question the moral validity of our objective. They had an unfortunate accident when their brakes failed."
"That is good. Replace them as quickly as possible. Sala'am."
Table of Contents
13. HaTikva
"The future is something everyone reaches at the rate of 60 minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is." - C. S. Lewis
Somewhere in the Negev Desert, State of Israel
Doctors Moshe Levin and Shmu'el Aharon were extended the honor of being present with Dr. No'am Abrams for the first return landing. They were thrilled and each wished that all members of their respective facilities could also be present. The one exception was Dr. Rachael Siwel. Given her above-and-beyond contributions to The Project, as well as a genuine need to have her there for the outcome, she stood alongside the three project managers.
Though Rachael met Avi only a few hours earlier, her assessment of Lt. General Ashkelon's attaché varied from that of everybody else in the room. Before the Experiment began, everybody was understandably on edge. Though all tried to hide it such feelings of tensions were understandable. If the Experiment failed the outcome would be difficult to accept. Should it be a success the outcome would be equally difficult, though for altogether different reasons.
When Jeff landed in the room everybody clapped and shouted for joy – heartfelt and loud. Rachael noticed that Avi also smiled and clapped his hands with a cheer but it didn't seem genuine. At least not as genuine as she felt would be reasonable. She considered possibilities of strain and exhaustion but discounted those. All were under a similar strain, all exhausted, especially Moshe who was considerably older and in poor health. Yet Moshe looked to be a teenage boy who just learned that the girl over whom he pined all year also was head-over-heels with him. No, even happier. The ever-tightening grip of age that was weakening his body seemed to have evaporated with his joy. His face had gone from a near-gray pallor to almost pink he was so flush with excitement.
Something was wrong, she knew it, yet she was unable to conceive of any reason that Avi would not be every bit as thrilled with the outcome as everyone else in the room. Even the conservative, stayed Prime Minister was as close to making a public spectacle as he would allow himself, giving a hearty bear hug to all around him; literally lifting people off of their feet.
She knew this was somehow important but did not want to jump to conclusions, nor exceed her authority without something more than observations and a gut feeling. Over the years Rachael had learned to trust her feelings, at times even giving her instincts precedence over her logical, analytical brain.
Rachael was one of the top twenty Physicists in the world. Early on her mother had advised her to pick a secondary field of study, just to maintain a balance in her life. Her mom didn't really see much of a future in Physics. So while it was true she wanted some balance in her daughter's life and education, she also wanted a practical career option. Thus was she pleased when her daughter received a second doctorate in Psychology.
Rachael's motives for a PhD in psychology went beyond balance. She had been a witness to the horrors of the Sho'ah through her grandmother. Shortly after the Second World War, especially following the birth of the Jewish state, Israe
l had more mental care facilities per capita than any other country in the world. So many survivors of the Holocaust, having lost everybody they loved as well as their homes due to countries that didn't want them to return, let loose the flimsy grip they had on their minds; their anchor to the living around them.
Some were clinically insane while still in the death camps, long before they were brought to Israel to heal. The mental health facilities in Israel were second-to-none. They helped her then young grandmother regain her footing and go on to live as normal a life as was possible. She remarried, giving birth to three more children. Through it all she never again spoke of her previous husband and children who went up in the chimneys of Nazi furnaces.
With this family background Rachael went on to post-graduate work which included counseling patients who could still be reached. Holocaust survivors were now in their advanced years. The coming two, possibly three, decades would witness the last of them pass into humankind's collective memory.
But there would always be those who needed help to excise mental demons of their own - beyond the more standard depression, clinical or otherwise - that may last a few days to a few weeks, which everybody experienced at one time or another in their lives. Countless people labored under the burden of emotional pain so far beyond any describable physical pain be it the loss of a child, a spouse through death or divorce, unresolved childhood trauma, or a myriad of other things.
Between her education, practical training and experience, as well as her most vital asset in such matters – her intuition – she was certain that Avi was battling his own demons. Would he be able to cope? Would his demons interfere with, or even compromise, his work with The Project?
She made a mental note that No'am didn't quite seem himself either. Strain and lack of sleep didn't preclude the fact that there was something off with both. Given to moodiness and lacking in social graces, she could easily be wrong about No'am, but not Avi. She would discuss her observations with Moshe at a more appropriate time and place.
For now, with Jeff bandaged-up and on his feet, Rachael wanted to congratulate him as well as to more closely observe him. The psychological effects not only of up-close assassination, but more especially the heretofore unknown realities and emotional consequences of time travel, were something to be both monitored and cataloged for study; coupled with counseling and guidance if needed.
While historians would spend months pouring through history on the "outside," comparing individual, geographical, political, and economic histories in the shielded areas; observations and study of Jeff would take much longer.
In point of fact his entire life from this point on could reasonably be made into a serious study as there was no way now to know if this experience would become an issue when he returned to the United States - knowing his direct impact on lives and events there. Going back to his family, and any stresses that were bound to come into his life may be further complicated by this experience. His deep faith in God, family, church and country could not completely insulate him from the events of today.
As Jeff made his toast in their group celebration - similar champagne flutes and toasts being raised in the other two facilities as well - she noticed Avi smiling jovially while at the same time the hand unburdened with a glass remained at his side in a clench so tight that the observable knuckles were white.
In a day or two Rachael would be home with her family. That would give her the physical and emotional distance to consider her observations and instincts concerning No'am and Avi logically, deciding what the next steps, were any even required, should be.
Her thoughts were cut short by an impromptu singing by the group of HaTikva. All but Jeff sang, he understandably wouldn't know the words. She would translate the song for him sometime later. Tears of joy, of remembrance, even a touch of sadness seemed to settle on all of the assembled during the heart-rending song. All but Avi and No'am seemed moved. Nonetheless they sang too.
Within six hours she was once again in a modified shayroot, whisked home in the circuitous route that she had come to expect. Point of fact, Rachael had grown so accustomed to her shayroot rides that she had come to enjoy them. She saw them as her personal hour or so vacation between work and home.