Hatchet

by Israel Levy

  They left the city and made their way on a winding road beneath the trees (“My god, these guys don’t waste a second. How am I going to remember everything? Please, just don’t let me screw up”). There were grey clouds hanging above them (“This grey weather is exactly like my mood right now”). After half an hour the driver turned onto a side road which descended deep into the woods. It was paved with stones and extremely bumpy. The trees blocked what little sunlight seeped through the clouds, rendering the atmosphere even gloomier. She heard the sound of the wheels on gravel as the car stopped in front of an iron gate with an intercom panel.

  “Bonsoir, ici Hatchet.” He said the word ‘Hatchet’ in Hebrew but it sounded so funny with his thick French accent she had to force herself not to laugh. The whole scene was completely surreal, as if taken straight from some fiction thriller. She pictured the montage in black and white and added some background music in her thoughts.

  The gate opened and they glided onto a manicured pebbled driveway, with trimmed bushes and interspersed with white marble animal sculptures leading to a house that looked like a classic European palace.

  The car passed an elegant, grass covered square with a sundial formed entirely from greenery at its center, before coming to a halt opposite the enormous entrance door of the house. . The driver stepped out, taking the briefcase with him, with Albert by his side and Naomi following suit. The heavy door was adorned with a lion’s head knocker. They knocked and as the door opened with a creak (“Of course this door is going to creak, what else…”) she saw a familiar face and recognized Ziv from the team.

  “Hi, everyone. Our ‘guest’ is already here. Let’s go straight in.”

  The entrance hall was huge, with two heavy, closed doors on either side, bright marble floors, an elegant staircase with white marble banisters adorned with engraved vine branches and a red and gold threaded carpet at the bottom of the stairs (“What’s with all this luxury? Seems so out of place with the whole situation”). They climbed the wide stairs and entered through a massive, ornate wooden door into an expansive hall that had once been used as a ballroom. It was almost empty except for two high-backed, antique chairs that had been placed right in the center of the grand hall, beneath the enormous chandelier, facing each other.

  “Naomi, just before you take a seat. If you could, please remove your clothes. You can keep your underwear on.”

  “What? What do you mean?” she asked nervously.

  “As I’ve explained, our informant requires total secrecy and fears any bugging equipment.”

  “Is there a bathroom here?”

  “Yes, but it isn’t private. Go ahead and use the adjoining room.”

  She went through another heavy door into the ‘room’ which was actually a huge, smaller than the first, but still a very large room. She looked to the left, then to her right, undressed and placed her clothes on a chair by the door. She felt uncomfortable as she returned to the grand hall and noticed that the men were trying not to look directly at her (“Not that I have anything to be ashamed of, but still, meeting someone I don’t know like this…”).

  She heard the door close behind them as they left and took her seat on one of the chairs (“At least it’s padded and comfortable”).

  She looked around the ballroom, taking in the high vaulted ceilings decorated with an enormous fresco of a hunting expedition. The men were portrayed in hunting dress and hats while the women were painted in the nude, plump and pink (“I wonder if they had to undress in front of men they didn’t know?”). The high windows were made of exquisite stained glass and large marble slabs covered the floor. Along the walls stood four marble fireplaces protected by statues of women in hunting attire, carrying bows, standing with one leg on the corpse of a deer at their feet, pierced by an arrow. In front of each fireplace, two armchairs were placed, made of carved wood, painted in gold, with burgundy upholstering.

  The entire scene, sitting amid this opulence, half naked, felt extremely bizarre, even eerie, but Naomi’s reveries were broken by the opening of the heavy door on the other side of the room.

  A short, fat, bald man entered in quick steps, holding two large radio-tape recorders, precursors to boomboxes, not to mention wireless bluetooth speakers The door closed behind him and he approached the chair facing Naomi.

  She was surprised to see such an unimpressive man. He looked like a low level accountant, with round glasses, a jacket several sizes too small and revealing the sleeves of his shirt, black trousers, and what appeared to be food stains on the front of his shirt. He did not wear a tie and used a crumpled handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his brow before sticking it back in his pocket and taking his seat.

  Naomi smiled, attempting to appear empathetic, and held out her hand but the man ignored the gesture. He moved his chair so close to hers she could feel his breath on her face. He smelled of beer and fatty sausages. Removing his glasses, he reached back into his pocket and pulled out the same dirty handkerchief to try and wipe them clean. Naomi began to feel revulsion. He placed a briefcase on one side of the chair and a tape recorder on the other. She was surprised to see it was the same briefcase she had brought with her from Israel.

  All of a sudden he rose and gestured for her to do the same. She wanted to speak but he pressed a finger to his lips, indicating to stay quite. He instructed her silently to raise her arms and to her horror began moving his hands over her body (“Searching for wires!”). He had to stand on tiptoe to run his hands through her hair and down her neck. She felt a rush of disgust as his hands pressed against her breast (“A little bit too slowly for my liking”) and down between her hips. He did not miss a single inch of her body. It took all her restraint not to slap him across the face.

  Finally, he was done. She started to sit back down but he gestured for her to stay standing, took the chairs and placed them next to one of the fireplaces in the far end of the hall. He took the two armchairs that stood there, dragging them across the floor one by one, and instructed Naomi to take a seat. Then he bent down and turned on the radios, filling the huge space with loud music. One radio blasted the voice of Pavarotti and the second blared with Queen (“What a cacophony!”). Immediately, and without a moment’s notice, he started speaking very quickly. She could barely make out what he was saying due to the loud, disorienting clamor (“I guess he must be worried about long-distance bugging”) but she was mostly surprised by the fact that he spoke French with a thick Irish accent.

  Naomi tried to brush aside how revolting she found him. He apologized for the search and explained he had to ensure there were no listening or recording devices on her person. He said he worked as an executive accountant (“Yes, at least I got that right”) at a Muslim terrorist organization, a suicide group called “Al Mushidin”. He was in charge of the funds being transferred to the organization from Arab countries. Without pause he recited the bank account numbers into which the transfers were being made in banks across the world, including Switzerland, the U.S., and Saudi Arabia. All handling of the accounts was done in a highly secured computer room at a campsite in the Libyan desert. Identification required both a password and fingerprints, his fingerprints. The password was to be inserted by the commander of the organization on site. Part of the security was the complete verification of the IP address from which the orders were being made. There was no way to enter the accounts from anywhere else in the world. The computer room was underground and located under one of the tents. The layout of tents varied randomly every now and again, so that the entrance to the computer room was continually changing.

  A large portion of the funds was allocated to the ongoing maintenance of the organization’s training camp in the Libyan desert, not far from the ancient city of Cyrene by the Mediterranean sea, close to the Gulf of Sirte. He gave her the exact coordinates of the training camp. Other portions of the funds were for the purchase of high end equipment, guns, explosives, and support fo
r the families of the suicide bombers. The training camp was divided into three sections: one to train operators; the second for intelligence training; and the third for the training of suicide bombers. All sections were manned with volunteers who were mainly from Palestine and Ireland, with a few Japanese and a few Israeli-Arabs (“Fuck! Israeli citizens? Why?”).

  The man spoke nonstop for two hours, giving Naomi detailed information as she sat before him, listening intently, trying to etch even the tiniest bit of information into her memory.

  Then, just like that, he stopped talking. He grabbed the briefcase, shut down the radios, pushed back his heavy armchair, got up, turned to the door, and was gone.

  Naomi remained in her chair, stunned. The strange man’s heavy odor still lingered in the air and she tried to make sense of what had just happened, worried that even her prodigious memory skills would not suffice and that she might miss some small but vital piece of information.

  The second door opened. “OK, Naomi, let’s go,” she heard Albert calling her. She got up, went through to the other room, quickly got dressed, trying to collected herself. They stepped into the car and made their way back towards the city. She was silent the entire ride, sitting in the backseat, leaning her head against the window, allowing the scenery to flash before her eyes like a silent film.

  She didn’t even notice when they were in the city again. They parked the car in front of an impressive office building in the center of Brussels. Albert pressed the intercom. “It’s Albert.” The carved wooden doors opened and they were standing inside an extravagant, marble covered lobby with a mirrored ceiling and statues lining the walls. The elevators were situated directly opposite the entrance (“Such an interesting look, these modern stainless doors in this sort of setting”).

  The state of the art elevators took them in a swift, smooth ride to Floor Six. “Leibowitz Law” said an engraved gold plate. The offices were empty due to the late hour. They walked across the hall, stepping on thick area rugs that covering the wooden floors. Albert opened the door to the conference room and Naomi saw two women and three men in tailored suits, sitting around a large table on a dark wood floor.

  “Meet the Brussels team,” he introduced them by name and everyone shook hands with Naomi. She had corresponded with some of them in the past, but others she did not know at all.

  “Let’s proceed to my room,” said Albert.

  They moved from the conference room to Albert’s office, which was large enough to seat the entire local team.

  “Is it OK if we do this in French?” he asked Naomi.

  “Yes, of course.”

  The discussion was lively and vigorous and she was immersed in the legal matters. After a couple of hours, when they had exhausted the topic (“This is indeed highly relevant for the case”) she turned to Albert. “I have to shower and rest a little before dinner, could you drop me off at the hotel, please?”

  “Absolutely,” Albert sympathized with her situation.

  When they got to the hotel she was happy to find that check-in had been done for her. Albert handed her the key and she walked through the handsome lobby (“A bit too ‘American’ for my taste”) and up to her room. She tossed her handbag on the bed, her clothes on the floor, and ran to the shower, letting the hot water wash away the sense of filth she still bore, and the memory of that man’s hands all over her body.

  Dinner was refined and delicious but Naomi’s head was elsewhere. The red wine made her think of a different wine she had recently shared (“It seems like it was ages ago. So much has happened since”). The city’s buildings and lights reflected on the wet road filling her with melancholy. She went up to her room and for a moment was about to write down what she had memorized but then remembered Abraham’s request not to record anything and to rely only her memory (“I certainly hope I won’t disappoint him”).

  The following morning she requested a taxi pick to take her to the airport. She headed straight to the gate and before long the tarmac underneath the airplane’s wheels was replaced by a sheet of clouds covering the continent and the Mediterranean Sea. Her head against the window, she tried to make sense of the last couple of days’. Everything had transpired at an insane pace. Moshe, the bombing attack, Shuli, this unexpected trip, that mysterious meeting with that sweaty man, the drive to the city, the sharp transition to a discussion regarding international law, the ride to the airport (“My god, that sequence of events, absolutely crazy”).

  Gazing out the window in the back of a Tel Aviv taxi now replaced the airplane window. Naomi watched the highway outside the airport flash before her eyes as the taxi made its way through the busy freeway traffic moving toward the city. Finally, she was home.

  She paid the driver and entered the elevator, leaning against the wall, staring at the person looking at her in the mirror (“I’m a mess”). She opened the door and without even turning on the lights threw herself on the living room sofa, snoring as her body touched the cushions.

  Chapter 4

  She tried to ignore the phone ringing relentlessly and let it switch to her answering machine after a few rings.

  “Naomi,” she heard Abraham’s voice. “Yirmiyahu at one p.m..”

  She drifted back to sleep and when she finally woke she checked her watch (“My god, it’s 10:00n! I have to get to the office”). Naomi was in her car within thirty minutes. She passed the Victoria on her way, which was swarming with construction workers endeavoring to erase all traces of the murderous event. Life must go on.

  “Welcome back, you world traveler,” Yael greeted her with a huge smile.

  “I brought you a great perfume. Tell the others I want to see them in my office,” she called in the team for a meeting, drew out a legal pad (“At least THEY let me take notes”) and shared the details of the discussions she had with the Belgian team. It took her until twelve thirty (“I don’t need more than half an hour to get to Yirmiyahu”).

  “OK, let’s break for lunch. We’ll pick this up again at three.”

  This time, Leah, the woman at the entrance to the Yirmiyahu offices, was a tad nicer, but still made her go through security as if she was a stranger. Abraham was waiting for her inside.

  “Welcome. Everyone else will be here shortly. We’ll do a thorough debrief and then you’ll meet with Jacob, whom you haven’t met yet, and share with him everything you memorized. This information is crucial to the action we are planning.”

  Within two minutes everyone had taken their place in the circle of chairs. She smiled at Keren, nodded at Ziv and they returned her smiles. Abraham started the debrief.

  “I want each of you to describe your role in the action so that we can get a clear picture. We’ll start with Ziv.”

  In the half hour that followed Naomi learned that, in fact, everyone in the circle had taken part in the action. Keren who handed her the suitcase, Aaron who had been in charge of synchronizing everyone’s positions from the command room, Gila and Ziv who hired the cars and Yaniv who, with Alex’s cooperation, managed to track down the perfect site - that secluded, empty palace.

  “OK, Naomi, please retrace the conversation. Jacob will be recording what you say.”

  It took her about forty minutes to describe her part in the plan, including each step: the airport, Keren, Albert, the palace, removing her clothes (“I can tell they’re all trying to keep a straight face”). Then she began repeating what the accountant had said.

  She was surprised to see how easily she could reach inside her memory and retrieve every last detail, including bank account numbers (“OK, I knew I had particularly remarkable memory skills, but damn!”).

  “OK, we’ve heard from Naomi. In fact, the goal of this operation was to train all the team members at working together as well as retrieving the information we needed from the accountant. Now let’s turn to the screen.”

  They shifted their chairs to face a scre
en that was pulled down from the ceiling. It showed flow charts, and Abraham and Jacob each addressed particular items. They were presented with a detailed description of the many branches within the organization of which the accountant had spoken, including its international ties. The diagrams were then replaced by a description of the training camp and satellite images of the area.

  “We have close up footage from the ground provided by an Matkal unit which has been on site for the past two weeks. They’re now on their way back to Israel on a missile ship and are sending images as we speak via a secured channel.”

  Abraham fell silent and turned to look at the laptop to which the images were uploading. “OK, we’ve got it. Let’s take a look.”

  They saw a video of night and day footage, and some stills.

  “Alright, friends. We’ll analyze this information later and meet with the force commander in person for a complete understanding of the base and its surroundings.”

  Abraham turned to the team, casting a shadow on the screen. A portion of the camp’s image was projected unto his body.

  “Well, ladies and gentlemen, this is what we’re facing. I’ll define the goal and its specifics later on, but our aim is to seriously damage the organization’s sources of funding so as to hurt it irreparably, perhaps even bring about its dismantling. So far, you each operated based utilizing your innate skills. However, in order to meet the team’s main task you will each have to improve and hone your existing skills as well as acquire new ones. Pay attention to the timetables and tasks we must complete.”

  The screen now showed a Power Point presentation showcasing timetables for training, followed by each member’s specialization, model drills, and finally the mission description. A few of the team members were to join the Matkal unit and the navy Seals. Others were to perform groundwork and prepare for a joint action to physically take over the training base. The teams would eliminate the terrorists, take control of the computer center and hack into the organization’s international accounts, emptying them of all funds.