by Ran Weber
Binyamin asked if I could help him mow the front lawn and I agreed. A little gardening work always does me good.
Before leaving the room, I took from my backpack a digital scanner for bugging devices and went through the room quickly. No bugging devices were detected. I put the scanner in my pocket. It was a very advanced gadget, highly sensitive to microphones and spy cameras. I left my unit to look for the lawnmower.
I knocked on Binyamin’s door. No one answered. I remembered that Binyamin had said he’s going on some errands and will be coming back later. I thought I had seen Aharon going out earlier. I knocked again and when there was no answer I went into the house. On my left, I saw the key hooks where I thought I’d find the key for the shed where the lawnmower was kept.
I put my hand in my pocket. I felt the scanner. Should I use it? No one had asked me to and this was not my house. I pulled it out. I scanned the house quickly. I found two microphones and a small camera. I wasn’t sure who had installed them – is this something Binyamin has at home, is he that paranoid?! Or perhaps... They were located in the areas of the house that Ehud had access to when he had been here for Shabbat supper.
I heard footsteps coming from the bedroom. I quickly stuffed the scanner into my pocket. Aharon emerged from the hallway, sleepy, his hair disheveled. “Hey, Aharon,” I smiled at him. “I have to mow the lawn. Do you know where the lawnmower is?”
I knew where it was but I didn’t want to barge in just like that. Binyamin had even shown me the key to the shed. Aharon went to where the keys were hung, pulled off the key for the shed and gave it to me. “In the garden shed on the right.”
***
“Yoav,” I heard someone call behind me. I turned.
“What are you doing here, Rami?”
He came up to me quickly and then, when he was very close he said, “We need to talk. Stat.”
I turned off the mower, put it back in the shed, and joined him. Meanwhile, Rami managed to get into the living unit, make himself a coffee and sit in my favorite chair.
I looked at his cup. There was coffee in it but there was no milk. “You couldn’t find the milk?”
“No, that’s okay. Do you have soy milk by any chance?”
“No.”
“It’s fine then, I’ll drink the coffee as it is.”
He got up and looked at the espresso machine on the counter. “You’ve settled in nicely, haven’t you?”
“What do you want, Rami?”
“Nothing,” he said, and moved the machine. “I think you might have forgotten what you’re meant to be doing here.”
“What?”
“You rent a nice housing unit, you tour Los Angeles, you meander around in parks… A real sabbatical!”
“I’m...”
“Wasting time, Yoav,” Rami interrupted. “And something doesn’t sit right with me. Things are happening too easily. All of a sudden, you get a job deep inside the organization you are meant to penetrate? I smell a rat. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m doing what needs to be done in the best way possible, Rami. Don’t give me a sermon about performance. You can do it better? Do it yourself in that case and let me off the hook.”
Rami looked deep into my eyes. “What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing,” I said, and I looked away.
He got up and started pacing around nervously.
I thought back to Hebron. Working with him was a nightmare. He would butt in to every little detail in the mission and go through it with you a thousand times. And that’s just the lead up to the mission. Once the mission had been carried out? Endless briefings, debriefings, attempts to understand what we did and how we can improve on it next time. Exhausting.
“It doesn’t sit right with me,” he said finally. “Schetritt is a worthy opponent. Something isn’t right, be careful of him.”
“What doesn’t sit well with you?” I asked, “That I was able to do what would have taken you years of work?”
“Don’t start getting cocky, kid,” he said, “This is the champions league. These aren’t kids you play with on the PlayStation. You have to be a thousand times more careful than you think, otherwise you’ll find yourself at the bottom of some lake with a cinder block tied to your leg.”
I wanted to respond but he went on. “And speaking of
PlayStation, what’s this stupid thing about the hacker challenge?”
“A genius move.”
“What’s genius?” he asked. “You working for Schetritt or the fact that the NSA is on your tail now?”
“The NSA? And as for Schetritt, that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? Ehud was clear on the subject.”
“It wasn’t an order from me,” Rami said, turning his back to me. “It seems as though Ehud’s leash is too long. As for the NSA,” he turned back and put his coffee down on the counter. “What did you imagine? That the National Security Agency wouldn’t be on your back? Don’t you think they monitor everyone who participates in the hacker challenge? What, are you a beginner, Yoav? You enter Schetritt’s cage like a kid who wanders into a minefield looking for mushrooms!”
Metaphors weren’t his strong suit.
“The Feds, too,” I said thoughtfully.
“What about the Feds?”
“Two federal agents followed me and Ehud to the park.
We split up, I think they caught him for a conversation.”
“What did they look like?”
“One was tall and white and the other was short, black and chubby.”
“Jim and Nash.”
I looked at him questioningly.
“Jim, the arrogant racist, tall and white. And Nash, the short black guy who does all the work for him.” He stopped for a moment and then added, “Jim is one of the most corrupt agents I’ve ever met. He hates foreigners. African-Americans are foreigners as far as he’s concerned, as well as the Mexicans over here and the Chinese, certainly the Jews and certainly all those who come from the Middle East. “
“How do you know?”
“They’re working on the Foretellers. I understand from Ehud that they are pursuing Schetritt to get the Foretellers, or vice versa. They have a very ambivalent attitude towards us.”
“If this is about the Iranians, why the FBI and not the CIA?”
“I told you already, they’re in pursuit of Schetritt. And besides, the CIA doesn’t operate on US soil, not officially at any rate, but don’t be surprised if a CIA agent also leaps into your frame. The soup you cooked attracts a lot of flies, Yoav. And you should definitely be careful of Schetritt.”
“Anything else, Mom?”
“Stay away from the Israeli consulate, too.”
“The Israeli consulate? What have you got against them now?”
“The chief consul shoves his nose into everything, even things that have nothing to do with him. Stay away from the consulate, understand?”
“Okay. Do you have anything concrete to tell me about the mission itself?”
“You already understand how the Iranians are trying to crack Pillar of Fire? The code is only part of the matter, how to insert it into the system is the more complex part.”
“How to insert it into the system?”
“Yes,” Rami said. “Look, every system has a code used for entering it, and an input screen or a way in which the system receives the code.”
“Obviously.”
“Okay, genius, in this case it’s not so simple because there is no input screen for the Iranians to visit and type in a code. The system is designed so that if you have the code and you do something with it, the system is meant to find it, to ascertain it’s the code and then disable itself.”
“To find it? What are you talking about, Rami?”
“I see that you haven’t been able to disco
ver much about the system out here. In short, the key to the system is a long code with millions of symbols. The system is meant to find the code on the web.”
“How does it appear? A compressed encrypted file on a server of some kind?”
“On the contrary. An image that is open and visible to all, in three of the major newspapers in the United States. The system scans the images and translates them into binary code. This code is compared to the code that is encrypted within the system. As soon as the desired picture appears in the three newspapers - the system is disabled.”
“What newspapers?” I interrupted.
“The New York Times, the Washington Post and the Los Angeles Times.”
“Who has the ability to take over and plant an image into these three papers?”
“Only the president - by executive order.”
“So... someone is meant to plant an image on the websites of all three newspapers, a coded key of millions of bytes. The Pillar of Fire system scans the newspaper sites, and when it locates the picture, meaning the coded key in the three newspapers, it opens. A picture of what?”
“A picture of Mary Poppins... How do I know what picture? If I did we’d have had the code by now. It could be anything -- a McDonald’s logo, an image of a pair of boots on sale, even a classified ad for a pet store. Anything unique that the system will recognize as the executable code once it is translated into bytes. The thing is that Schetritt is stuck right now because he doesn’t have access to the Los Angeles Times. He’s probably trying to get the code simultaneously. He was able to penetrate the servers of the New York Times and the Washington Post, apparently with the help of Chinese hackers.”
The challenge roused me and began to inject new life into me. Suddenly the task was more suited to what I was used to -- hacking, security, mind games.
“Don’t forget your role here, Yoav,” Rami said. He produced a cigarette and offered me one.
“Don’t smoke here,” I said.
He lit the cigarette, looked at me for a moment, and left, leaving a gray cloud in his wake.
44
“He’s a special guy,” Binyamin said. “You’ll understand when he gets here.”
“What do you mean?”
Binyamin sighed for a moment and said, “Donnie Milstein, a good friend and the Valley’s chief rascal. Whenever there is a problem in the area, the authorities check him out first. When coming up against a wall, Donnie has to dig. Beneath it, to its sides, he has to investigate all the cracks. When these walls are somehow related to the legal authorities they don’t like it so much, if you know what I mean.”
I heard noise from the road, brakes screeching followed by a door slamming. Binyamin rolled his eyes and raised his hands in the air. “A thousand times I explained to him about the neighbors, this is a quiet residential neighborhood.”
***
The door opened and Donnie Milstein appeared in the room, wearing a slightly tattered suit and a smile. The hair of his short, red beard began to gray but that didn’t ruin the effect of his baby face. Donnie was a fascinating combination of an innocent expression and a long history of entanglements, at least according to Binyamin. He held a small briefcase in his hand. He opened it quickly on the coffee table, ignoring me and Binyamin, and pulled out a document, concentrating on his actions like an excited child. Binyamin looked at the briefcase from afar, squinted his eyes for a moment as if trying to focus his vision and approached to examine the document.
“Donnie, no way!” Binyamin said, and slammed the document on the table. He turned his back on Donnie and walked with measured steps throughout the room. Turning to Donnie, he pointed to the document, “I am no thief!”
“It’s not theft,” Donnie smiled innocently, “it’s merely concealing evidence and a teeny bit of data manipulation.”
Binyamin looked at him angrily and said nothing.
“Listen,” Donnie sighed, “it’s a common thing.” He sat down on the chair and looked at the document while continuing to talk to Binyamin. “The tax authorities here understand that only in this way small businesses can survive. You can be a part of the party too. I can easily run half a million, no dirty tricks.”
“No dirty tricks?” roared Binyamin. “Don’t you understand? I’m neither a thief nor a liar. Do you hear me through your smile?”
Binyamin’s eyes burned. Donnie didn’t panic and said with a bitter smile, “But you’re ever so annoying.”
Binyamin took a deep breath, closed his eyes, opened them and said, “That’s right.”
Donnie gathered his things and only then saw me in the corner of the room. “Hello!” he said, and came over to me quickly, holding out his hand, “Donnie Milstein.” Before I could respond he pulled out a business card and stuck it into my hand.
“Yoav Sharff,” I replied as I studied the card.
“You live in the Valley?”
“Not exactly, I’m here on vacation.”
“From Israel?”
“Yes.”
“Tel Aviv?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Say, Donnie,” asked Binyamin. “Are you from the Shin Bet? What do you want from the guy?”
Donnie ignored him. “You an independent contractor?”
“I have a computer game store.”
“Cool,” he said, and his eyes lit up. “I’m also an accountant. Today you can do anything remotely through the web, if you need to iron some things out...” he winked.
“Donnie,” Binyamin said, “I think Yoav gets it.”
45
The Valley, Los Angeles, California
I sat in the living unit and logged onto the message board. It was quiet, I didn’t see any new messages. I heard a quick knocking at the door. I didn’t have time to close the computer as I hurried toward the door to see who it was. I glanced through the peephole; federal agents.
I quickly entered the code to the safe and pulled out the brown bag. I heard knocking again. I quickly took out the gun and stuffed it in my pocket. I put the brown bag with the remote into my backpack and shoved it under the bed. I crept quickly to the back of the unit, there was a small utility balcony. I hoped they wouldn’t hear me trying to open the door quietly. I heard the knocking get louder and I went out onto the wooden deck behind the unit. I leaned back against the wall. I heard them try to forcefully turn the door handle and then whisper. All at once they broke through the door.
I began to run quickly. I heard shouting inside the unit and then voices from the utility balcony. They began to chase me. I jumped over a little wall and ran without knowing where, just to get them off my tail.
My heart pounded wildly, I didn’t look back. I almost ran into a Mexican gardener trimming bushes. He looked at me in astonishment and jumped back, cursing vigorously. I looked at him as I ran, I wanted to apologize, and almost ran into a tree. I gave up. I turned right into an alley between two houses. The road was completely blocked, cars parked so densely I couldn’t get through. I climbed on one of them, an old Volvo, at least the roof held up. Who knows what would have happened if I had jumped on one of those little Japanese cars. I heard shouts behind me, the agents didn’t let up.
I looked back. They ran behind me quickly, waving a gun. I tried to cut through backyards, I had no idea where I was going. I jumped over a trash can and almost fell. I saw a tall fence, I ran to it quickly and jumped, hanging onto it with my hands. I managed to pull myself up over it to the other side. On the other side, to my great disappointment, I met one of the agents. I felt a knock to my head and lost consciousness.
***
I woke up in a white room, sitting at a long table with my hands cuffed behind my back. In front of me sat the tall white agent, dressed in an ill-fitting gray American suit. Next to me was the other agent. He had already taken off his suit and was wearing a black po
lo shirt.
“I have no idea what you want from me,” I declared.
“Anyone who runs is hiding something. It’s a basic law of nature,” said the agent who sat next to me. He had an African-American appearance and looked at me with scorn. He had a wooden toothpick with which he dug between his huge white teeth and a look of I-have-all-the-time-in the world. The truth was that I’d had enough.
“Listen, it’s a mistake. I don’t know who you’re looking for, but it’s a mistake. I freaked out because I thought you were burglars. I’m not from here, I’m a tourist here for a gamers trade show. You scared me, so I ran away.”
The agent in front of me laughed. “Did you hear, Nash? We just made a mistake. We’re picking on a poor tourist for no reason! Transfer him to the tourist police.”
Nash laughed and slapped my back hard. “Brother, have you ever thought about a professional career? You can do a standup at one of the clubs here in town. You probably want to make it in Hollywood, eh?”
The agent in front of me gave me a serious look. “I am Special Agent Jim Clarke and this is Nash Brown. Everything that goes on in here is recorded by four security cameras. We’ve been following you for a while. You’d better start talking or this will be very long and tiresome.”
Nash released my hands. I folded them on my chest. He picked up an object with his pen, a Mini Berretta.
“What is this?”
I didn’t answer.
“See, Jim?” Nash asked. “Look what I found on him.”
“It’s not his,” Jim said.
“No?” Nash asked.
“I don’t think so,” Jim said. “I think it’s his grandma’s.”
They burst out laughing.
I couldn’t laugh. I realized I was in trouble. Now I could be charged with unlawful possession of a weapon.
“Mr. Bergman,” Jim said sarcastically, “or shall I say -
Mr. Sharff?”
“Does it matter?” I asked.