FalseFlags

by D S Kane

  Planning the wedding with a professional wedding planner took less of her time than she’d thought it would. Selecting a caterer, choosing a band, and processing the invitations for seventy-four invitees who had accepted—all were delegated to the wedding planner and all Ann had to do was approve the schedule for her and Jon.

  Choosing where to have their honeymoon took longer. Jon had finally convinced her that visiting London, where he’d been born and lived for much of his life would be wonderful. She agreed, but it wasn’t her first choice. Paris and Venice were where she had wanted to travel.

  While the wedding plans were in process, Ann finished her semester and her friends all had job offers. Laura Hunter had been hired by Google, and her husband Dave Nordman had a start date for work at the NSA as a junior consultant. Glen Sarkov had been hired by the CIA and was about to begin training. And Samantha Trout had also joined the CIA.

  Avram had sent Ann a letter welcoming her to the Mossad, pending her graduation. Avram also sent Jon a letter recalling him to active duty as the director of mission planning when they returned from their honeymoon.

  The next two weeks passed in a flurry of activity as the plans turned into accomplishments on Ann’s list.

  The dress Cassie bought for Ann was white with a high collar and antique-looking lace covering her back. It had wide-belled long sleeves. When they went shopping for her dress, they both admired its simple yet classy look.

  So much had been resolved. And now, the day had arrived.

  * * *

  The dress Ann selected for Cassie was a pink gown that made her feel like a piece of strawberry shortcake. She took another look in the mirror and frowned. “What the fuck was I thinking when I bought this?”

  Lee tightened the bow tie on his tux and failed to suppress a grin. “Too late, my sweet. It’s time to get out there and mingle.” He turned toward their bedroom door and opened it just a crack.

  Cassie could hear the mix of many voices in conversation. She nodded and followed Lee into the second-story hallway.

  As they walked down the stairs into the spacious living room, Cassie scanned the crowd for people she knew and, more important, any she’d never met. There were armed mercs standing adjacent to the doors into the compound, into the house, and at the garage. When, after he’d received his invitation, Avram told her the details of the suicide bombing at the Ashmel compound, she and Lee decided they weren’t taking chances.

  She saw him immediately, by far the tallest person in the room. One of Cassie’s best friends, Avram had flown in just for Ann’s wedding. She caught his eye and grinned. He smiled back.

  Most of the guests were outside the house on the compound’s grounds. She followed Lee toward the door, watching as he greeted politicians, spymasters, military officers, and relatives of hers and Lee’s. She’d met a few of Ann’s friends but couldn’t remember their names.

  When they reached the courtyard, she remembered the day Lee and she tried, unsuccessfully, to get married at the Montara Lighthouse near Half Moon Bay, California. There was a price on Cassie’s head back then, and the wedding turned into a massacre. Cassie’s mother was shot to death that day. Cassie felt her eyes well up but she wasn’t sure whether it was this memory or her wedding that triggered it. While she hadn’t expected anything like that to happen today, the mercs were there to provide the guests with a feeling of protection in light of what had happened to Ashmel and his guests.

  As they walked through the courtyard, a trio consisting of a flute player, a guitarist, and a keyboardist started playing light classical music. Cassie had selected the music for the ceremony, overriding the selection made by the wedding planner. When she did that, Ann followed suit and had forced on them the selection of a rock-blues band popular in New Orleans for the reception. Cassie had never heard of them, but she relented in the spirit of compromise.

  Lee stabbed an hors d’oeuvre from a passing white-jacketed waiter. He took a bite of endive with pear, candied walnuts, and lemon sauce and passed the rest to Cassie, who finished it. The couple smiled at their guests.

  * * *

  Glenn Sarkov had been surprised when he’d received his invitation to Ann’s wedding. He’d thought, once more, Maybe she and I can be friends,

  Now, he walked around the perimeter of the compound, admiring how tight the Sashakovich family’s security was. As he paced, he tried to identify the other guests. Some of the older ones wore military uniforms and many of the others spoke languages he understood, but their low whispers let him hear just a phrase or two. He guessed they were foreign diplomats. A few of the others were classmates, and he knew most of them. He smiled and nodded at Dave Nordman. He assumed that this meant Laura Hunter was also at the wedding. But he stopped still when he saw Samantha Trout. She stared back at him, then turned away. I guess some wounds never heal.

  At this point in time, he wondered if Samantha would ever forgive him for stopping development on the DARPA artificial intelligence project that his team was designing. His team had had a chance of winning when he stopped work on it, but according to Ann, it had become sentient. At the point when he’d stopped their work, he knew they could never catch up, and their grades for all their other courses were dropping like a jumper from a bridge.

  He sighed and saw a couple at the center of the crowd. Everyone at the wedding seemed to be coming around to meet the two. He was sure these were Ann’s parents. He decided to say hello and queued up at the end of the line.

  * * *

  Ann finished combing her reddish blond hair and looked in the mirror. Then she frowned.

  Laura Hunter, Ann’s maid of honor, and Dave Nordman had arrived the day before the wedding.

  Laura watched Ann standing at the mirror and asked Ann, “What?”

  “I don’t know. When I put on this dress at the shop after they made it, it looked so good. I just lost a few pounds and now it looks like I could swim in in.”

  “You look perfect.”

  “Don’t lie. I look like crap. Has Jon arrived yet?”

  “I saw him when he got here. That was nearly an hour ago. Ann, the ceremony starts in a few minutes. Take a sip of something strong to settle your nerves.” Laura handed Ann a tumbler filled part way with a golden liquid.

  “What’s this?”

  “It was in your parent’s liquor cabinet. The bottle said ‘Lagavulin 16 year.’”

  Ann nodded. “Mom and Dad both drink this. Dad says it tastes like a barbeque in your mouth.” She sipped from the tumbler and grimaced. “God, I don’t know how he drinks this. Must be an acquired taste.”

  “Drink more. You need to be happy and charming, not the bride from hell.”

  Ann tried to smile.

  “Try again, this time like you mean it.”

  Ann took a breath. Then she closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she smiled this time, Laura clapped.

  * * *

  Jon stood alone near the garage, wearing a tux. He seemed uncomfortable, his demeanor that of a fighter pilot about to embark on a low-probability mission. He tried mixing with the guests. He knew almost everyone. His position at the United Nations had garnered him face time with many of the diplomats, and his stints being Ann’s bodyguard had placed him at least a few times with almost every friend she’d invited. Then, why did he feel so nervous?

  * * *

  The trio of musicians played the wedding march and the doors into the courtyard opened. Ann stood alone, aglow, and Lee and Cassie walked to her side. They escorted her toward a flowered canopy set up near the garage, and stopped about twenty feet away. Jon took a breath and stepped over to where Ann stood. He whispered something into her ear and she smiled. The couple turned toward the canopy made of roses and walked to the rabbi who waited for them.

  The ceremony started and the rabbi began chanting out a prayer for them.

  For a single instant, the two being married stood at the center of the world.

  * * *

  As the sun se
t and the newly wedded couple waved to the guests and departed in a limo, Lee whispered into Cassie’s ear. “It’s over. Now we’re empty nesters.”

  Cassie whispered back. “I still have my doubts, but I’m glad this didn’t become another version of our first try at getting married. We need to talk with Avram about what happened at the Ashmel party. He may want our help.”

  “Unlikely. He has the Mossad to help.”

  Cassie shrugged. “Let’s ask him for an update anyway.”

  Finding Avram was easy. He was nearly a half foot taller than the next tallest guest. He wore a blue business suit and held what appeared to be a tumbler containing a fruity drink. He nodded at them as they approached. “Great party. I never thought Jon would marry again, after Ruth Cohen’s death.”

  Cassie frowned. “They never actually married. In fact, Jon never married until today.”

  Avram nodded. “Yah. Aviva Bushovsky died before she and Jon could marry. Still, I always thought he’d remain a bachelor.”

  Lee said, “Well, Ann made sure that wouldn’t happen.”

  Cassie said, “How’s the investigation into the Ashmel massacre going?”

  Avram shrugged. “We have a mission plan, but it’s a piece of shit right now. I’m not even sure how to do my job. You know, Jon was once a covert operative for the Mossad, a kidon and case officer. If he wasn’t going on his honeymoon, I’d have called him back from overt to covert.” Avram shook his head.

  Cassie asked, “So, you need some help?”

  Avram smirked. “No, not right now. I have an entire intelligence service at my disposal. But if I see where you two can be of assistance, I’ll be in touch.” He finished his drink and set it on a tray. “I have a plane to catch. I need to be in my office as the sun rises tomorrow.” He smiled. “Congratulations.”

  With that, he left Cassie and Lee standing outside the garage. They watched him walk to the valet. He and his security detail entered the limo just outside the compound’s gates and were gone.

  Cassie and Lee walked to the gate and bid farewell to their guests as, one by one, they left the compound.

  Soon, only they were within the compound, along with their security detail.

  Lee hugged Cassie. “C’mon, babe. Let’s get the cleanup started.”

  * * *

  Laura Hunter and Dave Nordman stood in line at Reagan Airport’s security checkpoint, each one holding a boarding pass and driver’s license. The line was long and moved slowly. Dave faced Laura and asked, “What did you think of the wedding?”

  Laura shrugged. “Too nice by half. Her parents are loaded. Wish we could have afforded something that glossy. Ann seemed uneasy. I’m sure she wanted to marry Jon, but something seemed off. I hope I’m wrong.”

  Dave’s mouth opened in an “Oh.” He handed his documents to the TSA officer who nodded, stared at Dave, wrote something undecipherable on his boarding pass, and handed the docs back to him.

  When it was her turn, Laura handed her docs to the TSA officer. While the man processed hers, she faced Dave. “Is that all you have to say about the wedding?”

  They began placing the contents of their pockets into large gray bins and preparing to enter the scanning machines.

  Dave said, “I guess you’re just more observant than I am. But I did notice Sarkov and Trout. Looks like they still hate each other.”

  Laura grinned. “Couldn’t happen to a better couple. I wish them loneliness and unhappiness forever.”

  Dave stared at her. “What’s that all about?”

  She replied, “I just know them a lot better than you do.”

  * * *

  It took all night for Avram to return to Herzliya.

  His first act was to convene his informal planning committee, albeit without Jon Sommers, and no bagels and lox this time.

  The top floor of the Mossad’s headquarters building had only six offices and two large conference rooms. In the smaller of the two conference rooms, adjacent to his office, Avram sat at the head of the conference-room table, surrounded by the heads of mission operations and logistics.

  He faced Morris Talb. Morris looked like he was not even about to graduate from high school. Avram could see that the young man hadn’t yet started shaving. But, from his file, Avram knew he was brilliant. Avram asked the much younger man, “So, who is selling?”

  Morris spoke with a Russian accent. “We’ve spent weeks querying everyone we have a relationship with. Almost no one wants to talk with us. The Ukrainians and the Taiwanese offered tidbits, but there hasn’t been much chatter.”

  Avram tapped his hand on the conference room table. “And?”

  “Both of those intelligence services suggested we examine Ashmel’s investment portfolio. The Ukrainians said one of his startup companies, Modus Fi, was involved in researching something they referred to as an “invisibility cloak.” The Ukrainians worry that if Russia acquires this tool, they could overrun their country. The Taiwanese said that they believe China is interested in its development. And they’re afraid that having it would enable the Chinese to invade and conquer Taiwan in less than two hours.”

  Avram sat in silence, thinking. “I thought that Ashmel’s weapons research corporations are all contracted exclusively to the Ness Ziona.”

  Rachel Schwarz raised her hand. Avram nodded at her. “Not all of them. All the more established and profitable ones are, of course. But he had one relatively new company called Modus Fi, and I believe that this startup is the one Morris is referring to. I’ve seen some of their work. It’s mostly theoretical stuff. They have yet to deliver a product, not even a prototype. But rumors suggest they have had some initial success stretching the boundaries of theoretical physics. So that might fit with what Morris just said.” She nodded at the younger man.

  Avram shook his head. “Is an ‘invisibility cloak’ even possible? That would imply bending light around the object being cloaked. To cloak a tank would take an enormous amount of energy, a huge apparatus. We need more information and we need it fast. Rachel, I’d like you to use two hackers I know to find out what’s behind the doors of Ashmel’s Modus Fi startup. I’ll send you the contact details. They live in Woodbine, Iowa, but I’m sure for this they can be on the next plane to Tel Aviv.”

  Rachel shrugged.

  Avram dismissed them all. He thought that an invisibility cloak simply wasn’t possible. But he’d been wrong before about how fast technology changed warfare and espionage. Bug-Lok, the nanodevice that his mentor, Yigdal Ben-Levy had the Ness Ziona develop was proof of that. And someone had overdosed his goddaughter, Ann Sashakovich, with over a thousand of them, leaving her with dangerous new capabilities. Then he remembered the DARPA contest and Ann’s development team in that contest. He was wrong about the rate at which technology was changing his world.

  CHAPTER 15

  Reagan International Airport,

  Washington, DC

  May 2, 10:54 p.m.

  The newlyweds emerged from their airport taxi to a cloudy night sky. Even at the end of the evening, Reagan International was as busy as it ever got, and they were soon engulfed in its turmoil. They printed their boarding passes and showed them to the ticket-counter clerk, who checked their bags. After they passed through the security checkpoint, Jon stopped and took a breath. “We have a few minutes. Let’s take this at a slower pace.”

  Ann agreed and they walked at a more leisurely speed to the gate. The flight to London was just boarding, and they filed into the aircraft and found their seats.

  Jon said, “We’re about to go to the town where I was born. I’ve arranged a hotel on the street adjacent to the one where my parents had their flat. They lived on Cadogan Square and our hotel is a block away at 11 Cadogan Gardens.”

  Ann mumbled something about how tired she felt and she wasn’t even jet-lagged yet. When the flight attendant offered them drinks, she eagerly accepted something with whisky in it and was soon sleeping and snoring next to him.

  Jon also
felt tired, but this day was a new beginning for him. He felt eager to begin, to live his new life to its fullest. He stared out the window as they wended their way east toward a new adventure.

  * * *

  Betsy and William talked nonstop on their flight from Jon and Ann’s wedding to Israel. Most of their conversations were about the friends they had seen at the reception, but as their aircraft moved closer to their destination, the conversations became more work oriented.

  As they circled to land at Ben Gurion, Betsy and William were arguing about everything in their recent work missions.

  Since their visit to Beijing to obtain a copy of the blueprints for the invisibility cloak from Hu Wan, they hadn’t had a second thought about either the Chinese spy or what she had hoped to gain by selling them a copy.

  Now, their conversation turned to the project they were designing, something they believed would make them rich beyond belief.

  Betsy said, “Tell me then, little Wing, why did you even think we should name the AI ‘Sharpie’? I mean, it’s intelligent, but it still can’t focus.”

  He shook his head. “We needed a name reflecting AI and what it can do.”

  “Just goes to show you. Right now, the AI we built fails as often as it succeeds.”

  He shrugged. “Live and learn.”

  She smiled and punched his shoulder. “I told you so.”

  “Crap, Betsy. Give Sharpie a chance. We just organized the business. We’re the business managers. We’re there to run the company, not just to design.”

  She looked out the window. “We’ll be in the terminal in a few minutes.”

  “Yeah. They’ll be waiting for us.”

  After going through passport control, on the way toward baggage claim they found a door marked “Airport Service Entrance.” Standing in front of the door were a man and a woman, both with weapons bulges visible under their jackets. The man looked rather young for a Mossad officer. The woman was nearly as short as Betsy, and William thought, She looks like a weightlifter.