by Niv Kaplan
Shaul Dekel was a high ranking Mossad operative responsible for gathering intelligence data from Southern Lebanon; he knew Nadav well from numerous operation briefings and debriefings. They had become good friends so it did not seem too out of the ordinary when Dekel received a call from his friend and IDF counterpart requesting an invitation for a computer survey.
"I'll have them run it through," Dekel had assured Nadav after taking down his personal details. "Just make sure to come up for coffee when you're done," he finished cheerfully.
The computer center was a hub of silent activity, with men and women sitting glued to their computer screens. He located an empty monitor and sat down trying to appear calm, feeling cold sweat break across his body, almost shivering with tense anticipation.
An orderly came by, turned on the computer, punched in a temporary password and logged into the main server. Nadav took it from there. Without wasting a second, as the orderly moved away, he swiftly entered the personnel directories from the main menu in pursuit of a Dan Hasson file. It took the computer forever to retrieve the directory from where he could access the operative's file.
When he finally reached the desired file, access was denied.
All that appeared was a single screen but it was enough. It displayed the operative's name and some very general data including the operative's ID and passport number, birthday and physical description. The file was marked deleted due to termination of employment dated August 3rd, 1983. The last database field, at the very bottom of the screen, gave a certain numeral code to the name 'PhotonTek' affixed at the end.
The orderly was making his rounds, approaching Nadav's position once again. The lieutenant hastily exited the personnel directories and began searching for code names of IDF collaborators in Southern Lebanon, not expecting to retrieve anything he did not already know.
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The four met at Sarah's apartment on the evening of Eitan and Mikki's return from Copenhagen.
"Why'd you guys never call?" Sarah asked accusingly, passing around the small flowery decorated china tea cups filled with lemon scented tea.
"We didn’t want to call from the hotel and we couldn’t figure out the public phone system there," Mikki said cheerfully, making himself comfortable on her bed.
"Poor excuse, Mikki," Nadav muttered in the same cheerful mood. "We had you for dead.”
"Hey, give us a little credit," Eitan put in, standing over by the window watching the city.
The mood became serious once Mikki began recounting their findings in detail. He described how they had located the apartment and its German occupant and how they had ambushed him on the street and interrogated him in the park, slowly leading to the German's reasoning and subsequent shocking conclusions.
"… He seems to be totally convinced the entire affair was initiated by Karen's father," Mikki concluded.
"You know, fellas," Nadav reflected, trying to put things in perspective and ease the tense atmosphere. "In intelligence courses they teach you never to dismiss anything. Expect the worst, the strangest; the most bizarre. I've dealt with cases that required faith and a lot of imagination, but this one has to top all.”
Sarah addressed Mikki.
"Have you grasped the fact that she may be alive?"
"If I can accept this crazy theory, then I guess yeah, she could be alive.”
"Can you?" Sarah pressed.
Mikki considered her question a while before answering.
"First of all we were as shocked as anyone would be and we obviously didn't buy his story. But the German kept making sense. He kept saying things that reminded me of some of the stuff Karen said to me and many of the things that actually occurred. We could not dismiss his arguments, though God knows we tried.”
"It most certainly is an outrageous theory," Eitan added, "but it's the only one we've got and it gives us a clear path to pursue.”
"But what if it's false and we wrongly accuse a father of kidnapping his own daughter?" Sarah put in.
"It could mean disaster but I must admit it's surprisingly plausible," Nadav said.
The three looked at him in surprise. "Why do you say that?" Sarah inquired.
Nadav smiled and cleared his throat. "I checked the name you gave me of the Volvo owner. Turns out he had been let go by the Mossad four years ago. His file has most likely been archived so it was impossible to retrieve, but a certain name came up which might give validity to this theory.”
All eyes were on him as he paused to sip his tea.
"There was only one screen in the Mossad's computerized personnel files indicating some general information of former employee, Dan Hasson. A certain code number was displayed and it had the name PhotonTek attached to it. I guess it may have been his last assignment.”
Sarah jumped from her seat.
"That's his company!" she exclaimed.
Nadav nodded knowingly. Mikki looked astonished.
"This is the connection, perhaps even a motive," Sarah continued, out of breath, her words spewing out. "If this is true, then the Mossad had some reason to be concerned with this company. If what the German said is true, then Glass planned his daughter's kidnapping using a car that belonged to a Mossad operative that was investigating his company…?"
"If this is true," Nadav interjected, "then Glass probably used the kidnapping to try and get them off his back.”
"Which could explain why the authorities here covered up the investigation," Sarah concluded.
The four stared at one another, astonished at their own revelations.
"Poor Captain Gadot," Mikki reflected, "he never had a chance.”
"Let me get this straight," Eitan said, trying to comprehend the flow of information just offloaded into the electrified room. "The general consensus here is that the German's theory holds and Karen is alive somewhere?"
They all looked at one another.
"Yes, and it also means that if this ever gets out, the careers of some pretty important figures could be seriously damaged," Nadav said.
"It also means that Captain Gadot's killers could be traced," Sarah added.
"Are we up to this?" Mikki asked, suddenly feeling the weight of it all.
He got up and walked over to the side door by the window, opened it and stepped out to the tiny balcony overlooking the sparkling city. He stood silent for a while, gazing at the commotion below. The sun had long disappeared beyond the Mediterranean and the streetlights had come on, illuminating a traffic jam at the Betzalel Market exit. Storekeepers were closing shop, and workers were milling around bus stations waiting for transport home.
He knew exactly what had to be done yet he suddenly felt reluctant to go on.
It was not the uncovering of possibly the cruellest of plots or the danger of meddling with corrupt officials that had made him suddenly hesitant. He had spent the entire flight back from Denmark and the better part of his first day back, mulling over his swirling anxieties.
None of it was going to conclude the way he had envisioned, he deduced regretfully. Fantasies of fairytale endings comforted him only when he was certain the bad guys were who they were supposed to be and the odds of finding Karen had seemed less than remote. Now that the bad guys had turned up on the both sides of the fence and there was substantial evidence that Karen was indeed alive, he began to doubt his own convictions. The realization of just how frightened he was of actually finding her was burning a gaping hole in the pit of his stomach.
He still loved the Karen he had met. The one he had preserved in his mind for so long. The brown-eyed, fragile beauty, who briefly descended upon him so long ago throwing him into a whirlwind of bewilderment and anguish. He realized that time would have taken its toll and the relationship could not be picked up where it was cut off. He was certain that if they were to meet again, she would not be the girl he had met over three years ago and he dreaded the thought of never being able to bridge the gap.
He shuddered every time he tried to envisage what it
was like to be held captive for so long. Glass's thundering accusations kept echoing in his mind as he recalled their confrontation at the Geffen Inn. The convincing show of concern for his abducted daughter in the conference room and in front of the cameras seemed ridiculously pathetic, now that the truth had unfolded. It seemed inconceivable, even monstrous.
The workers down below were scrambling on to their cumbersome bus, hanging on for dear life, standing room only.
Mikki kept trying to appraise the kind of person who can so brutally betray his own flesh and blood. He wondered how such a terrible secret can be kept hidden for so many years and how can a human being look his wife in the eye, seeing her mourn the loss of a daughter.
The thoughts and questions kept gushing by turning to trepidation, as he desperately tried to rationalize it. It was so bizarre that speculation about family involvement returned, creeping in uninvited. Was it too farfetched to speculate that they all may have played a part in the abduction, covering for some horrible dark secret hidden deep within a tarnished past?
Over three years had passed and no one in the family seemed concerned. Lisa had kept him appraised for a while but that had ended over two years ago.
He felt nauseous as suddenly it seemed as if their mission was of no importance to anyone.
He walked back in and took his position in the room. Sarah was making another round of tea. Nadav and Eitan were sprawled on her bed talking softly. They looked up as he entered and assumed a sitting position.
"Cold feet?" Eitan asked, seeing his sulky expression.
"Yeah…" Mikki answered sincerely.
"We can't quit now Mikki. Not with this breakthrough," Nadav said.
"Why the hell not?" Mikki shot at him, surprising them all.
"Because when I take on an assignment I generally like to see it through and I certainly don't intend to quit when we are finally making some progress," Nadav answered emphatically.
"Don't be so mission-oriented Nadav," Mikki dismissed him. "This isn’t one you need to promptly submit a report about. There's just more grief at the end of this one. Besides, do you honestly believe he can keep her stashed away for so long without the family knowing?"
"And what if the family does know?"
"Then there's obviously no reason to look for her. She may not even be a prisoner anymore. For all we know she may be leading a happy, comfortable life, and have forgotten all about us.”
"What's gotten into you Mikki?" Nadav exclaimed. "Have you forgotten that we're all in this to try and find your girl? Don't you want to know what happened? Have you given up on the chance you'll love her again and she you, and if nothing else, wouldn't you just want to see her, talk to her, and find out the truth?" He looked around the room.
Sarah and Eitan were intently watching Mikki who seemed to be fighting to control his emotions.
"What's scaring you, Mikki?" Sarah asked softly.
"Everything," he answered, lips quivering. "Her dad, her mom, her sister, her condition when we find her... if we find her…"
His voice trailed off and he glanced sideways, fighting his tears.
PART THREE
THE HUNT
CHAPTER 21
Paul Glass sat like an overbearing tyrant on an imposing leather swivel chair at the crest of a long oak conference table that nearly filled the entire room. He had just completed reviewing a brief that did not unearth anything he was not already aware of since he knew the project to its tiniest detail. His Nd:YAG, diode pumped laser had achieved an output of 120 milli-joules, three times that of any available laser, and he would prove it to the partners, next week at the test range.
The briefing's only purpose was to once again make sure his subordinates understood the magnitude of the trial's success or failure in terms of the company's future. Glass did not mince words when he felt there were loose ends.
The conference room at his back was completely dark as the briefers were allowed to step from beyond the shadows, one at a time, to present a short synopsis of progress.
Robert Chang, his diode expert, was fussing with his transparencies, trying to correctly position them on the Over Head Projector so they would be projected right side up on the screen.
"… And so," he raised a frightened glance at his boss when he was done fussing and pointed at the screen with a silver lecture stick, "the achievable excitation power out of these Gallium Arsenide diode arrays should be sufficient in achieving our desired output energy.”
"Should or will?" Glass thundered at the frightened employee. "There's no room for speculation here Mr. Chang. It either achieves it or it fucks up the project!"
"The lab tests show sufficient power Mr. Glass, sir, but the loss of energy at the optical path of the full system may prove otherwise. It's hard to predict before our laser has been fully integrated in their system.”
Glass knew his expert was right but was too anxious to leave matters to chance. If next week's tests were to fail, there would be hell to pay. The partners were threatening all kinds of retribution.
He had to deliver.
Glass pressed a switch on a control panel attached to his chair and the room was flooded with bright neon lights.
"I don't have to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, how crucial next week's tests are," he boomed with scornful venom, instructing them to devote all of next week to making sure the trial was a success. "If we fail, you can all whip out your fancy resumés and begin looking for work.”
Life at PhotonTek had become an unending fight for survival since its near collapse following the 1982 Florida verdict. Many had left. The ones who remained did so out of necessity rather than devotion to the company. The condemning manner in which he now addressed them had become quite routine. Practically every test in the preceding four years was classified crucial and was approached in a similar fashion. What had once been the pride of the industry, the clever transformation of high technology into smart business, had transpired into a gun for hire, losing direction to corporate pressures. Long term research and development efforts were tightly scrutinized, budget deviations were dealt with harshly, and penalties and sanctions dictated employee behavior. The union was dismantled and each worked via confidential personal contracts.
To survive, Glass had agreed to place the company's future at the mercy of one of the most ruthless and reckless investment firms nesting on Wall Street. He was not blind to the abrupt change of atmosphere in the organization but felt it was negligible compared with the sacrifices he had had to make.
"If any of you have any sense left, you'd better make sure your teams are fully prepared for next week. The meeting is over!" He dismissed them and whipped around in his chair turning his back to them.
When the last of the executives had silently closed the conference room door, Glass turned his swivel chair once again. He gazed at the framed pictures spread around the room, collecting dust, hanging over the wood patterned wallpaper, noticing PhotonTek's old and colorful ads displaying some of the company's breakthrough products along with several framed excellence awards. There were no windows in the room, only air shafts running five floors up to the roof. Ever since the launching of the Portable Anti Air Missile, or PAAM project, he had moved his office and conference room to the basement for security reasons and for wanting to keep a watchful eye on the development efforts and production line.
He left nothing to chance. He could not afford to. If PAAM failed, so would his company. To achieve this goal, he had all but neglected most of his other products. Once proven, it would be fitted on every Portable Anti-Aircraft Missile currently under development by the Matlock Corporation. No telling how many units were needed but he knew it meant stupendous earnings to PhotonTek who would cease to control the worldwide portable laser kit market.
He got up off his chair and slipped through a side door to his office, walked around the large oak office desk and stiffly lowered himself down on his leather chair. A picture of his wife, smiling and considerably younge
r, stared at him from within a heap of memos, briefs, reports, faxes, floppy discs, letters, phone messages, and plain old scrap paper.
There were no pictures of his daughters. He couldn't bear to look either one in the eye.
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Lisa felt her body being squeezed from all sides as the elevator barely shut its doors behind anxious executives. The irritating stop and go ride made her feel a little woozy as she stepped out on the forty-first floor. In front of her, subscribed in gold lettering on fancy glass doors, was “Eckert, Lambert & Associates Inc”, a prominent market research firm that occupied the entire floor.
She straightened her outfit and walked briskly through the lavishly decorated lobby, sulking in its rich carpeting, waving a friendly hello to the receptionist. Muted phone murmurs came from everywhere as she traversed through rows of cubicles, reaching her own in front of a large glass window overlooking New York's imposing metropolis.
She threw her purse on the floor, placed her briefcase on her desk and quickly sat down, taking off her Reeboks and fitting into appropriate high heels. She released the two combination locks and opened the briefcase with a metallic bang. Taking out a neatly typed report, she closely examined it for a few minutes, and then leaned back in her chair enjoying her handiwork.
It was due on Eckert's desk first thing that morning. She had worked on nothing else for the last two months. Eckert, Chairman of the Board and her inspiration, had personally requested her involvement and she was especially proud of that fact.
He had hired her sixteen months prior, fresh out of business school, to his Venture Capital department. She had completed her MBA with honors and left for New York the morning following her graduation ceremonies, hangover still very much present.
She had not been back home since.
Her main occupation was performing new product market surveys, assessing the potential and risk of start-up companies, trying to persuade investors to pump money into their inventions.