by D S Kane
“Mr. Ben-Levy, this is Carl Hernandes, President of the United States. I’ve just spoken with Mark McDougal, our Director of Cyber Operations at the NSA. He told me what you told him. I’m calling you back out of courtesy to one of America’s most important allies, nothing more.”
Ben-Levy covered his surprise by taking a deep breath before he spoke. He sensed from the President’s tone of voice that the man was doubtful, and that he’d been compelled to call for reasons Ben-Levy wasn’t able to fathom. “Mr. President, this report I spoke of to Mark McDougal, well, it is a major concern to Israel. I—”
“Yes, yes, I know, but I doubt the conclusions in your analysis. We owe both countries a boatload of cash. Why would they destroy the cash machine we’ve been using to repay them? They know Congress will eventually relent and begin the debt repayments again. Can you tell me something more?” His tone was almost mocking.
Ben-Levy felt the man slipping away. He panicked. “Please consider it as a threat to your very existence.”
“Surely, I will. I’ll have our analysts study the possibility. Thanks, but I have pressing things to attend to.” Ben-Levy heard the line disconnect.
He’d been dismissed. At first he felt anger, but as the minutes passed, he felt small. Nothing would happen.
He sat alone, fighting the return of the wall of pain while he thought.
He reconsidered his career, the men he’d killed with a gun, those he’d poisoned, the ones he’d killed with his bare hands, and those he’d deceived, all for the State of Israel and its safety. He considered his pending death. He knew he hadn’t long. He remembered his role in the murder of his niece. Her ghost was nowhere to be seen.
He remembered when Oscar Gilead had been the Director of the Mossad, six years ago, and Aviva Bushovsky had found and seduced Jon Sommers using her cover as Lisa Gabriel at the University of London. How she’d fallen in love with him, and when Sommers was threatened by MI-6, to protect him, she’d been doubled by them. In a fit of fury, Gilead had ordered her termination to set an example, and Yigdal had complied. If he’d declined the order, he knew he’d have joined Aviva in the Mount Hebron gravesite.
Oscar Gilead had been reelected prime minister earlier this year, and he’d just told Yigdal to take no further action.
Yigdal still feared the man, but he knew his life was coming to an end. He had nothing left to lose.
He was out of safe options. When he disobeyed the order Oscar Gilead had given him, he’d be hunted by Israeli kidon. Assassins. This would be his last mission.
He’d need a team. He thought of those he’d led in missions. A few were still active. They were all retired kidon, except for Shimmel and Sommers. Each had performed well in the field, even when the plans he’d given them were flawed. Each had saved Israel from disaster at least once.
Aviva Bushovsky’s ghost was right. It would take the pressure of all the world’s nations to have any chance at all of stopping the impending demise of the United States.
The ghost of his niece appeared and kissed his cheek. “Finally! Do it for me, for all the others who died saving Israel.”
To defy the prime minister and escape the assassins he would certainly send, Yigdal would need a plan. A perfect plan, one that would work under the most extreme odds.
He stroked his chin as he considered his next move.
CHAPTER 9
Yigdal Ben-Levy’s office,
top floor, Israeli Embassy,
Washington, DC
February 21, 8:21 p.m.
An hour passed as the spymaster drew and notated the Venn diagram. The darkness, the silence were his only friends.
Yigdal considered his options with great care. A mistake might cause disaster. Doing nothing would be worse than any blunder he could make.
He was too frail to attempt action without help. He made a list of people he could use and printed it on the chalkboard.
Jon Sommers had abandoned him after finding out Yigdal was responsible for the death of his fiancée, Lisa Gabriel, aka Aviva Bushovky. William Wing was a hacker, a loner. And he was not capable of competence in a kinetic operation. Cassandra Sashakovich had led two kinetic operations in the Middle East a few years ago, major battles. She now worked for Avram Shimmel, Yigdal’s contact for outsourced operations. General Shimmel, president of The Swiftshadow Group. Cassandra was a potent force and Yigdal would need to convince her to come with Avram and his small mercenary army. Could Avram’s group do anything useful? He doubted it, but what harm could result? Avram was smart. So was Sashakovich. Cassandra’s bodyguards were all former kidon, and he’d need them, too. Of course, they would come with her.
He punched in the number for Swiftshadow and waited while it rang and then call-forwarded to Avram’s cell.
He could hear background noise. Then, Shimmel’s voice. “Avram here.”
“It’s Ben-Levy. I need some of your time.”
“Now isn’t good. I’m at a club with a lady.”
“Please.” His voice was sounded more like a hiss than a plea. It reeked of desperation.
Silence for almost a minute. “I don’t work for you anymore.” Avram had hung up.
Yigdal felt rage surging through him. He punched the redial button. “Just one minute will be enough. Listen!”
“You have 57 seconds remaining.”
“I have evidence indicating Russia and China will attack the United States. It is imminent. I need to warn the world. I am in Washington and need your help to get safely to the United Nations General Assembly in Manhattan. They are in session for the next week.”
He wondered if he even had a week left before the cancer took him. He felt a lonely desperation. He feared that if he called a press conference, he’d be defined as a crazy old man and laughed at.
He waited. He could hear the hum of waiters at the club where Avram and his female friend were.
“Let me think about this. I’ll call you later.” Avram hung up, but this time Yigdal took a deep breath.
He breathed deeply, this time without any pain. Maybe there was still hope.
CHAPTER 10
4 Railroad Street, Woodbine, Iowa
February 21, 9:16 p.m.
The only landmark in the minuscule town was the railroad track. The place was as remote as anywhere in the United States could be. Three streets, eleven houses, all very old and most needing new paint. The Butterfly— Elizabeth Rochelle Brown—owned the white Victorian house on the corner, surrounded by a white picket fence. The only white house on any of the four corners.
William Wing heard the doorbell ring from the porch. Betsy was coupled on top of him. She bounced her tiny body against his, screaming her third orgasm.
When the bell rang the fourth time, William was busy tugging on her nipples. He paused and stopped her in mid-bounce. “Uh, Betsy, we have company.”
She stopped, breathing hard. “Whazzat?”
“The doorbell.”
She frowned. “I don’t care. Focus. I want more.”
He lifted his head. “Yeah. I know. But give it a break. Lemme answer the door.”
“Crap. Willy, it’s some salesman or crazy religious people.” She frowned as she lifted herself off him.
He left the bed. “Where’s my bathrobe?”
He found it crumpled on the floor, and took the stairs down to the hallway on the first level. Nearing the door, he slowed, suspicious of the man whose shadowed silhouette he saw through the white curtained door. “Who is it?”
“Sommers. William, please let me in.”
William opened the door and hugged his friend. He turned on the light. He almost grinned. Sommers was dressed in his Burberry trench coat and fedora, so much in character from the old days. But so out of place in Woodbine. His face looked haggard. “Jon, you look like shit.”
“William, you stink of sex.” Jon smiled. “How is life in the sticks?”
“We’re both okay. Why are you here?”
“I’m playing mes
senger. You mind if I crash here tonight? Too late to go back to New York after we talk.”
William nodded. “Yeah, sure. Drop your bag. I’ll get you set up in the guest room.” He walked to the staircase. “Betsy, we have a guest. Jon Sommers.”
William heard her scamper to the staircase and pound down to where he stood. Wearing a robe that matched William’s, she grabbed him around the waist. “Ohmigod! Jon. Why are you here? Did those guys in Beijing find out who and where we are?”
Jon smiled. “No, we’re all safe, far as I know. How are you, Butterfly?”
She glowered at William. “I was doing really well until you rang that doorbell. How the fuck are you? Ah, and what brings you here?”
Jon frowned. “I’m fine. I’ve been doing what my cover identity trained me for. Banking.” His face scrunched. “So listen, I have a message from your father, William. He was afraid that any form of contact besides a physical visit would be backtraced so he sent Lily to visit me in New York. She told me your father needs to see you. But not in China. She told me you are being hunted again by the CSIS. He wanted me to tell you personally to meet him in Singapore, at the Mandarin Oriental. In three days, Thursday, after eleven in the morning at room 416. He said it was urgent.”
William’s mouth crooked. “Hunted? Not again. Crap, Jon, I thought it was finally over. So now he wants to see me? That’s more danger. It’s been years. Did he tell you what he wants?”
Jon shook his head. “Dunno. Just what I told you. Don’t try to reach him. He’s being monitored. Phones aren’t secure. Just visit. Or not. It’s up to you.”
Betsy shook her head. “Crap. Willy, I smell danger. Way too much danger.”
Jon nodded. “Um, well, you’re right. But he said he needs to see you, William. Listen, I can come too, to offer some protection.”
William nodded. He was already thinking about the travel logistics. “We’d best pack now and leave as soon as we can.”
* * *
Yigdal Ben-Levy sat and tapped his fingers on the desktop. The plan on his chalkboard was complete. It was a flawed but workable series of battle tactics, all exclusively defensive. Now he needed to complete staffing it.
He’d thought for hours about this next move, seeing the problem as a chess match. If he pushed too hard, his enemies would notice, discern his plan, and try to stop him. If he didn’t push hard enough, a brewing disaster would commence and overwhelm them all before he could stop it.
The ghost of Aviva Bushovsky stopped dancing. “Uncle, if all you do is sit and think, your choices won’t matter. You must make a move. The clock is ticking.”
He nodded to himself and picked up the phone. The next move was less likely to yield a good result. He grimaced as he punched in the number and waited.
“Sommers.”
“It’s Ben-Levy. Please listen.”
Silence. Then, “Okay. What do you want, Mother?”
“I’m no longer ‘Mother.’ I’m not with the Mossad any longer.” He paused, organizing his next move. “Jon, I need your help. I’m begging you to assist me. The fate of both Israel and the United States hangs in the balance.”
“Really? So you think I’m supposed to believe anything you say?”
Ben-Levy sighed. He’d expected exactly this response. “I understand. Just listen. Then make your own decision.”
“You ruined my life. You murdered my fiancée. Now you want my help?”
The pain in his gut plowed through him in waves. When Ben-Levy could speak again, his voice was almost a whisper. “I have intelligence that indicates the Russians and the Chinese are acting as allies, planning an invasion. A war against the United States. If America falls, it is likely Israel will fall too.”
There was silence from Jon’s end of the conversation. Ben-Levy believed Jon was considering what he’d heard and his response. Finally, “You’re referring to the diagrams of the Chinese and American electric grids? And what am I supposed to do about this?”
Ben-Levy almost dropped the phone. “You know about the plans for the cyber portion of the invasion?” He thought for a few seconds, knowing what he said next would either seal the deal or end the call. “All that needs to happen for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing. If you watch in silence while evil happens, you are as guilty as those who work to achieve evil. We have to do something. I’ve asked Avram Shimmel to help. Will you?”
He heard Jon sigh. “I’m on my way to the airport now. William Wing and Elizabeth Brown are with me. We’ll be out of the country for a few days, but I’ll think about this. No promises. Can I reach you at the number you’re at right now?”
“No. Call my cell.” He recited the number. “And thanks.” He could hear Jon hang up. Yigdal thought of praying, but he hadn’t said a prayer since the day Aviva died. The only prayer he knew was the Mourner’s Kaddish.
A prayer for the dead.
CHAPTER 11
Room 416, Mandarin Hotel, Singapore
February 22, 1:14 p.m.
The flight carrying William, Betsy, and Jon had landed twenty-three minutes earlier. They took a taxi to the hotel near the beach. Even in February, it was steamy hot.
Jon wiped the perspiration from his neck. “Listen, William. Betsy and I will go to the restaurant in the mezzanine of the hotel across the street. We’ll watch you. I want you to walk around and shop, but keep us within view. Complete a surveillance detection run. We’ll make sure you aren’t attracting danger.”
William’s brow wrinkled. “Seems unnecessary. All that will do is make me as sweaty as you are.”
“William, we’ll need to know more about how exposed we might be before we approach your father’s location. That single location might be dangerous, but not knowing if you’re tailed would increase the danger a lot.”
William shook his head but after a few seconds he crossed the street and walked away. Jon nodded to Betsy and they took the elevator to the mezzanine. “We’ll watch him from the restaurant’s windows for about twenty minutes. If he isn’t clean, I’ll visit Xian and tell him, then reset the meeting for another location. If he is clean, we’ll follow him in.”
William walked several surveillance detection runs before Jon called him on his cell. “Looks like you’re clean. Let’s meet in the parking garage of the Mandarin Oriental.”
He and Betsy approached the hotel’s garage.
When they reconnected with William, he scoffed at the idea that there was any danger here. “You can’t be serious, Jon. You actually think they were watching us at the airport and followed us here?”
Jon placed both his hands on William’s shoulders. “Better safe than sorry.”
William took a breath and seemed about to speak, but Betsy pushed between them. “Jon is the expert here, not you.”
William just shrugged. “I guess the practice was good for me.”
The three rode the elevator from its underground garage to the fourth floor. Betsy hadn’t said anything more. Jon was sure she was in a funk about the risk surrounding William.
In the lobby outside the door to Xian Wing’s room, there were three heavyset Chinese wearing suits, with bulges under their shoulders. They admitted William but not Betsy or Jon.
Betsy looked at the men. They were almost twice her height. “Crap. We just wait here?”
Jon nodded, silent.
* * *
William’s face fell when he saw his father. The old man was emaciated, and wrinkles knotted his face. He seemed to totter and stagger toward William.
“Father, what’s happened to you?”
The old man hugged his son. “I buried your mother a few weeks ago. Soon I will join her. I tried to reach you, but at the time no one knew where you were.”
William pulled back and examined the old man. “I had no idea.”
Xian nodded. “I didn’t ask to see you because I miss you. Although I do. But what you must now know is that my government has serious issues regarding your work. They think you hav
e been hacking into our servers again, and that you have discovered our plans. William, I am now retired and can no longer protect you.”
William shook his head. “Father, I haven’t hacked Chinese computers in over four years. It was our agreement, and I’ve honored it.”
“That may be true. But no one will believe you except me. And no one trusts me. I’ve been watching my watchers. There are few I can trust. None of my old friends care for me anymore. They know I will soon be dead and can’t repay favors they might otherwise grant me. My most intimate helper, General Benjamin Chan, is now on the side of those who count the days I have left to walk the earth. Chan has been telling our premier that you are a danger to China. So, they now believe you are, and because they believe him, now you are in real danger. There is a price on your head.”
William nodded. “Okay. I’ll take care. I have friends. They can help me.”
The old man touched William’s hand. “Good. But perhaps not good enough. And, that isn’t all. Even if you are innocent, what I am about to tell you will make you the powerful enemy to China they think you are.” He coughed. “Listen. I have information you must use. A story I must tell you while I can.” He pulled away and staggered to the room’s couch.
William seated himself alongside his father. “What?”
The old man seemed to steel himself, setting his face. “China will wage a fast war against the United States very soon. I hear that they were courted by Russia to be their ally. They may launch an invasion force in one week at most, possibly in just a few days. They are almost ready now.”
“And you want me to spread this story?”
The old man nodded. He pulled an envelope from his pocket. “They must be stopped. If their invasion occurs, our people will be cannon fodder and tens of millions will die. What you need to know is within this envelope. Proof, documents you can use. Give the documents to someone with the credibility to stop them. Choose one of your government clients.”
The door to the bathroom opened and General Benjamin Chan emerged. He wore his military uniform, complete with hat.