The End-Time Foretellers

by Ran Weber

  “Tell me,” I suddenly asked, “what is this autonomous car bomb nonsense? Are you kidding me?”

  Ehud went serious. “Not at all. You heard about the Google autonomous cars?”

  “I have. What’s that got to do with us?”

  “We hijacked one.”

  “What?!”

  “Yes,” Ehud said, “and we’ve loaded it with explosives. We made a small purchase with Schetritt through a sub-agent. It’s always a good thing to be in indirect contact with an arms dealer of his magnitude. He managed to source a very significant load within a very short time.”

  “A car bomb, Ehud? Has Rami completely lost his mind?”

  “Not at all,” Ehud said. “At some point, your contact with the Foretellers will be physical contact, not just virtual. It is our estimation that they have a server farm. You’ll infiltrate it and then you can set up the car bomb mechanism and disappear from there.”

  “Simple, eh?”

  “Completely. Just right for a hot shot like you, Yoav, who doesn’t need any help from nobody.” I didn’t respond.

  “By the way,” Ehud said, “I may have a lead for you.”

  “What?”

  “David White. He seems to be connected to the Foretellers. Find information about him. You’re a talented hacker, aren’t you?”

  “Okay,” I said. “Anything else?”

  “Shabbat dinner?”

  “Forget it, Ehud, there are normal people out there. Not everyone is busy playing war games.”

  “So? You have a guest – aren’t you going to invite him to dinner? Where’s your hospitality, Yoavi?”

  “I don’t want to involve them in the filth we’re wading in.”

  “What filth?”

  “This whole mission,” I said, and sat on the bed.

  “I thought that on Shabbat at least, I’d have peace.”

  Everything there was innocent, far from Rami and his spying. I felt dirty, sitting and talking to Ehud about guns and car bombs. I wanted him to go. I wanted to wake up in the morning and find out that it was all a dream, but it was getting worse. I was deep in the mud and everything still looked like a poster of a magnificent sunset.

  “You mean before you meet with Schetritt’s guys?”

  “How do you know?” I asked, surprised, and got up from the bed.

  “I saw you in the trade show and reported it to Rami,” he said coldly. I averted my gaze.

  “I thought you were over Super Mario Brothers. Don’t you have anything better to do? You’re tailing me now?”

  “Naïve much?” Ehud laughed. “I’m tailing you? At least three intelligence agencies are on your tail. You think Schetritt was there by accident? That the Iranians were there by accident?”

  I froze.

  “Continue playing the lone hero, Yoav. We’ll see what you’ll come to, or what bullet will come to you.”

  I put the remote control and the Beretta into the brown paper bag, I entered the code to the safety deposit box and opened it. I stuffed the brown paper bag inside and closed the deposit box.

  There was a knock at the door. Ehud looked at me questioningly.

  “Yes?”

  Binyamin opened the door. “Well, we’re waiting for you, come for Kiddush!”

  Ehud looked at him with a smile: “Look, I don’t want to impose.”

  “Don’t be Meschugener,” Binyamin said. “Come inside, the food is getting cold.”

  35

  Schetritt Industries, Downtown Los Angeles

  “We have servers that we want to secure,” Ben said. “I’m guessing you’re familiar with this work.”

  We sat in a spacious office in the Schetritt Industries company building downtown. It was a regular-looking four-story office building owned entirely by Schetritt, that housed at least four different companies, judging by the signs on the wall of the ground floor lobby. Schetritt sat off to the side, toying with a paper clip. Ben sat opposite me. The office didn’t seem to belong to any particular person, no personal belongings. An office desk, two chairs, two black leather armchairs and a small coffee table between them. Maybe it was for meetings of the kind we’re having now. Soft lighting lit the wall behind Ben and the air smelled faintly of cigarettes.

  “You a smoker?” asked Schetritt.

  “No.”

  He took out a cigarette and lit it.

  “Does it bother you?” he asked.

  “No,” I lied.

  There room was silent. Schetritt smoked and examined me carefully while Ben looked through his pile of papers, glancing at me from time to time. The smoke bothered me but I tried not to show it. I looked at the wall, it featured advertisements for religious paraphernalia and mezuzahs. I looked at the pictures questioningly – is that what they traded in? That was weird. According to the information I received, the pictures on the wall should have at least featured ballistic missiles. Besides, Schetritt was clearly no choir boy.

  Schetritt smiled. “It’s not what it looks like, but it’s a long story. We’re not looking for help with tefillin and mezuzahs, we have other problems.”

  Ben began to explain that they have various highly sensitive projects involving information servers that need to be secured. Since some of the projects pertain to fighting or defending against local or international guerilla groups, special emphasis is placed on protection against digital terrorism. Schetritt was alert and listened to the conversation with interest. Finally, he asked, “so, Ben, do you think he’s up to it?”

  “From what I could see in the hacker challenge, he seems to know what he’s doing.”

  They didn’t ask me anything.

  “It’s important to me that he is trustworthy,” Schetritt went on talking to Ben as if I were air. “Even if he’s the best in the world, I don’t need another liar in the system.”

  Schetritt stood up, stubbed out his cigarette on the mahogany desk beside which we were seated and sat next to me. “Listen, fella,” he said, “I don’t know where you’re from or where you’re going, but if you want to continue walking, you’d better listen to me.”

  At that moment Ben stood up and turned to leave the room.

  “Good,” Schetritt said in a hoarse voice, “leave us alone, Ben.”

  Ben walked out quickly.

  “Listen, baby,” said Schetritt, looking me straight in the eye, “I don’t like being lied to.”

  “Lied?”

  He took out another cigarette and lit it. “I’m warning you, fella, I don’t know if you’ve caught on to what’s going on here. We don’t sell cotton candy in the funfair.” I didn’t answer.

  “If you betray me,” Schetritt said, putting the cigarette out on the desk close to where my hand was placed, “the outcomes will be negative, very negative, for you.”

  “Very well,” I said, swallowing.

  “No, not very well. You’ve already lied.”

  “Me?”

  “The cigarette. You can’t stand it, but you said it doesn’t bother you. From now on every little thing that bothers you, you’re to tell Ben and he’ll take care of it. We have enough people here to take care of you. You just perform the tasks that Ben appoints you. You hear?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  36

  The Valley, Los Angeles

  It was late at night. I stepped out of the residential unit and leaned against the exterior wall. Binyamin had built a small, decked balcony beside the entrance. Adjacent to the wall was a small bench and a coffee table he had built himself.

  The Foretellers. My brain was steeped in it after hours of searching. I had no lead. I felt as though I was near something but couldn’t touch it. On the one hand I was really in the heart of the action, on the other hand it all felt very far away, virtual. Who belongs to what? How does this relate to Schetritt? To the Iran
ians? Which intelligence agencies are hunting for the information I’m looking for now?

  I leaned against the closed door and looked out onto the street. Where am I going to get information? Who are the real members of this organization? It’s all code. I remembered one psycho I saw online, Archie Smith. A fake name, of course. He kept going on about digital end-of-days prophecies. He had a website.

  I quickly went into the residential unit, took the laptop out of my bag and set it on the low table by the couch. I connected via encrypted connection. I remembered that I had codes belonging to one of the black hackers, those who, unlike the White Fraternity, sow destruction in the world as part of their ideology. I cracked his details once. Black Joe, how original. It was a small task Rami had assigned me to. The guy disappeared and I was left with his username and details. Rami got what he wanted and I got the identity of a digital terror hero that I could use whenever I wanted. I think it’s time.

  Within a few minutes I located Archie’s site. Full of conspiracy theories, anything from aliens’ control of the US government to the genetic engineering of Chinese silkworms with National Security Agency transmitters... I saw that there was a chat on the site where you could talk to him. Who else would be awake at such an hour... He must be up all night and asleep all day. A real loon but perhaps he’ll have the information that I was looking for. I logged in.

  Great site, I’m looking for information.

  Thanks. What about?

  The End-Time Foretellers.

  He didn’t answer for a moment.

  What do you want to know?

  Who they are.

  Why?

  What exactly did I think would happen…

  Digital terror. Who are you?

  Black Joe.

  Prove it.

  Happy to oblige.

  He sent me a short string of text, I encrypted it using Black Joe’s key. It was clear to me that the encryption would work and that Archie would verify the encrypted code. Only myself and the real Black Joe have this key and I don’t think Black Joe has been on the net in recent months, not since Rami uncovered the illegal money transfers he’d been involved in.

  – Wow, the legendary Black Joe. I don’t believe it. A great privilege to meet you personally.

  – I don’t have much time. I’m trying to locate the Foretellers.

  – They have a closed message board. Do you need a password? I might be able to get it.

  No, I’ve got it.

  Really? Impressive.

  I couldn’t figure out who they were.

  No one really knows. They use their own language on the message board, that’s what I’ve heard.

  Yeah, I know. So you have no idea?

  Look, I’m pretty sure I know what it’s all about.

  What?

  All the indicators show that this is an organization that has a distinct economic interest. They present themselves as a pro-Islamic organization, but in fact their goal is to destroy the world balance. They want to bring down the global economy, that’s clear.

  An economic interest?

  Completely. I’m pretty sure there are no real ethics involved, it’s all a bluff. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were a bunch of rich lawyers from the Valley behind the whole thing. According to the data I have, it wouldn’t be surprising at all. You know, as far as taking over people economically and then... Maybe it’s the Jews, it’s probably those Jews. It’s probably a plot to take over...

  Got it. I disconnected. I have enough psychos in my life.

  37

  Manhattan Beach, California

  “I decided and that’s that,” Ehud said.

  “That’s not what we agreed,” Rami said slowly on the other side of the line.

  “You’ll see that it’s for the best.”

  Rami was silent.

  “You’ll see. I’m much more aware of the details here than you are, Rami. It was a necessary step. That’s what I thought needed to be done.”

  “You don’t get paid to think, Ehud.”

  Ehud ignored the comment.

  “You placed him with Schetritt too early,” said Rami.

  “It’s an excessive deviation from the mission outline. You gave him any further details beyond that?”

  “No.”

  “Why didn’t you update me that you changed the boundaries of his mission? And how on earth did you persuade him to go to the hacker challenge?”

  “Tell me,” Ehud said, “you want us to make progress? Once we finish the mission, you can carry out an inquiry from here to the moon.”

  “Have you managed to find any more information?”

  “No,” Ehud said. “Surprising and frustrating. Judging by your reports and the data we had, you would have expected them to contact Schetritt, but I can’t figure out exactly what’s going on there.”

  “Well, keep me updated if they make contact.”

  38

  Schetritt Industries, Downtown Los Angeles

  “Foretellers?!” Schetritt said in profound seriousness. “Did you hear, Ben? Foretellers!”

  Jim gave Nash a quick glance.

  “Do you have any other news for me, apart from militant conspiracy theories, eh, Jim? Perhaps Ben and I are constructing a space colony on the moon? Don’t you have anything better to do? Isn’t there any work to do in the office? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Jim. Next, you’ll tell me this is an attempt to take over the world economy. Oh, wait! I know! I am plotting to establish a worldwide secret organization of millionaires who will take control of the superpowers from the inside and decimate the world economy.”

  Jim didn’t look at him, his gaze remained fixed on the table. “It’s possible. Knowing you, Mr. Schetritt, anything is possible.”

  Ben smiled. “And tell me,” continued Schetritt, “apart from wild imaginings and baseless accusations, was there anything else you wanted to share with me or shall I invite someone to accompany you to the door?”

  “There is,” said Jim. “We believe that you stole a Google autonomous car.” Jim and Nash stared at Schetritt.

  “A Google autonomous car?” asked Schetritt, his eyes opening wide. “I stole a Google autonomous car, here, next to the office? I waited for it to drive by and then I threw a big rock at it?!” Ben smiled again and shook his head slowly.

  Nash nodded. “Something like that. From San Francisco, to be precise.”

  “Wait, wait, do you really think I stole a Google car?” Schetritt burst out laughing heartily. “You guys are something, you really are something. Ben, get them something to drink, they deserve it.”

  Ben walked out of the room, embarrassed, and headed towards the small refrigerator at the end of the corridor.

  ***

  I decided to get something from the fridge. I was late for my meeting with Ben and Schetritt, but I supposed that another few minutes wouldn’t matter much. I hurried to the refrigerator and almost tripped Ben up. “You’d better get out of here,” he said, “now.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, “So I was a few minutes late. Is he that angry?”

  “There are agents here,” he said quietly and continued walking towards the refrigerator.

  I hurried out and rushed back to the house. I told Binyamin I’d be back in a few hours, but he’ll probably be pleased to see me earlier. He said it was high time for him to beat me in chess.

  ***

  Ben came back into the room carrying bottles of Coke and some plastic cups. He placed them in the center of the table.

  “Well,” said Schetritt, “you went to Colombia to grow coca, you came back and wrung the leaves into this bottle. You’re not going to pour some out for the guys?”

  Nash signaled to Ben that he didn’t want any. He smiled and stroked his belly. “Diet,” he whispered. �
��Thanks.” Jim ignored him.

  “Well,” said Schetritt, “Apart from visiting me and drinking Coke, was there anything else? Time is short and there’s a lot of work to be done. Well… I have work, that is.” He smiled.

  Jim was serious. “We were in San Francisco. We met a frightened girl who works in a sports retailer that is located right where the car was stolen. She saw what happened there. There was a guy there that I think you know pretty well. He stole the car, and going by her description, it seems that he used your wares.”

  “Thank God!” Exclaimed Schetritt. “It’s good to hear that people are using my goods. I sell to a lot of people, Jimmy. Mezuzot is a good business.”

  “Mezuzot?” asked Nash.

  “Yes,” said Schetritt. “I import mezuzot and religious objects. I got out of the whole arms thing, Jim, you must know that.”

  Jim didn’t answer.

  “You can check. Avi Schetritt is a law-abiding American citizen,” Schetritt smiled.

  39

  A gas station, near Sha’ar Hagai Interchange, Israel

  “What makes you so sure?” Asked the fat man, eating the burger, most of the sauce escaping from the sides.

  Rami shivered momentarily and took a deep breath. “I have tapes where he says it explicitly.”

  “How?” Said the fat man, opened the box of fries and pointed it at Rami. “Want some?”

  “No, thank you,” said Rami, rejecting the fries. “Ehud planted a bug on Shabbat.”

  “And he didn’t notice? Doesn’t he search the house?”

  “I think he searched it on Thursday. If he doesn’t get any surprise visitors, I imagine he won’t search it again. He has a computer that films everything that happens in the house all week.”

  They were sitting at a picnic table near the gas station, halfway from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv. The fat man bought the burgers in Jerusalem but Rami wouldn’t have any. He had asked for a Diet Coke and cigarettes only. “Well?”