Global Conspiracy

by David Shomron

  Philip picked up his room phone and it squawked loudly at him. He quickly replaced the receiver. He understood the delay in Paganini’s operation—there was no way to synchronize its timer precisely with another clock, and it was about thirty seconds off. He made a mental note to report this.

  Bernard tried using his cell phone to call John but encountered the same effect. He raced outside with some of the other guests who couldn’t tolerate the noise, and watched the nightclub door. Sure enough, a stream of irritated customers ran out with their hands over their ears.

  Exactly two minutes later the noise stopped, but things did not immediately go back to normal. Some people were still muttering profanities, others were shaking their heads, and still others were sighing in relief. Babies and children were heard crying, and some car alarms were set off. The only people smiling were Philip and Bernard.

  Eventually things calmed down. Philip and Bernard collected impressions from their fellow hotel guests, and they all seemed to agree that this was a freak accident and that those responsible had managed to fix it and would probably lose their jobs tomorrow. The main thing was that their TV and their phones were now working properly.

  Philip and Bernard called Martin and John, respectively, and made their reports.

  Back in London, Martin—though pleased with Paganini’s success—wanted to have it designed as something else. A food processor was well and good, and it did its job perfectly, but it wasn’t applicable to every situation. Martin was hoping the inventor could be persuaded to modify the device into something that did not need to be operated within a room or a house. Something that could be left in the outskirts of a city or even tossed out of a light plane. And it would need to be miniaturized as well and disguised—not necessarily into a household appliance. He decided to raise this issue at the next board meeting.

  Anne saw no point in having a board meeting while the tests were being conducted in Tunisia and in Auxerre. She decided to continue her search for Tanya’s killer. For no particular reason, she picked Lucien Dupond as her first choice—the sequence didn’t matter anyway.

  However, this was no simple matter. Of course, she thought, I could visit the last address taken from the university’s computer—somewhere along rue de Grenelle. He probably wouldn’t be there, because if he were the killer, he wouldn’t just sit around at a known address and wait to be picked up. And what will I say once I’m there? Why am I asking about him? If I’m offered to go indoors, should I agree or insist on staying outside? There’s still a chance that the murderer would be there, and if he suspected I would turn him in, I could be in real danger. I could meet the same fate Tanya did. But wait—I have an idea!

  Anne rummaged around her apartment and found the clipboard she was looking for. Using her home computer, she printed out a list of fictitious names and personal particulars, which she then attached to the clipboard. Armed with a pencil, she could pose as a pollster. Hello, I’m Christine from the university. I’m collecting information on students who quit their studies, and particularly why they’d quit. Were you subjected to adverse treatment by your teachers, or pestered by other students, or anything like that?

  Anne smiled at the image she had created for herself. It looked quite natural, and polls were common. She could do all the questioning while standing outside the house or flat—that’s what pollsters usually do. I really don’t want to intrude …

  Anne took a taxi and had the driver let her off a block away from her destination. She then walked slowly to Lucien Dupond’s address and, taking a deep breath, rang the bell. Anne waited for two minutes and had almost decided to leave, when the door was opened from the inside by a fat, unkempt woman.

  “Qu’est que c’est?” she asked rudely.

  Anne recited the script she had prepared. The woman nodded in understanding and her features softened a bit.

  “He doesn’t want to study,” she sighed. “He’s just a fat, lazy good-for-nothing. He doesn’t care that I’ve worked my fingers to the bone so that he could go to the university. All he does is loaf around, listening to that abominable music of his. I keep telling him ‘if you don’t move around you’ll burst!’ He weighs over a hundred kilograms. Perhaps you people could send a psychologist or therapist around? Maybe a professional could convince him?”

  “So it is your opinion that he quit his studies out of laziness. Is that right?” Anne asked. “Could there have been another reason, perhaps? Maybe someone at the university hurt him? Or perhaps he was offended by one of the professors? It’s very important for us to know, so that we can try to prevent future occurrences of the same.”

  “Why don’t you talk to him yourself?” The woman raised her voice. “Lucien! Get your butt off the couch and come here. There’s a lady from—”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Anne interrupted. A fat, lazy boy was definitely not what she was looking for. “I am not authorized to interview the students—just to fill in this form. Thank you, Madame, you have been most helpful.”

  Anne turned on her heel and walked away.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Martin was present, of course, at the next board meeting, which took place in Anne’s apartment. He hadn’t seen Anne for over two weeks, and he admitted to himself that he had missed her.

  Anne had missed him, too. If she had met him somewhere else, without other people in attendance, she would have embraced him strongly and planted several kisses on him. And he can take that any way he likes, she thought. But in the current environment, they just shook hands warmly, like the others.

  Admiral Stone was as pleased as punch. Despite his age and his retirement, he had taken part in a complex and interesting operation, and he was sure that its benefits were soon to come. He had marched in the desert along with the younger men, he had dug in the sand and buried tin cans—there was quite a lot to be proud of. He had also noticed how the others had looked at him admiringly, and he got well-deserved recognition at this board meeting as well. Could it be that Sir Cedric was a little envious?

  The admiral described the operation concisely but left no detail out. He praised the other members of the team for a job done to perfection. It seemed that the association had come a long way, and it was now approaching the day when their plans would be realized.

  Sir Cedric reported that his laser device would probably be ready for testing in a few days.

  “Just imagine,” he said. “You’d be able to point the beam in any direction—both horizontally and vertically. And the penetrating power—well, it looks like we’ll have more than we expected … And there’s something else, too. Now that the Excalibur tests have proved successful, I think I should visit Professor Allier and report this to him. After all, it was his invention.”

  The others agreed.

  Martin gave a brief account of the tests in Scotland and Auxerre, much to the satisfaction of his listeners.

  “To conclude,” he said, “I believe that Paganini could be even more effective in our future projects if it were much smaller. Sir Cedric, could you ask Signor Rosetti if he could miniaturize his invention for us?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” replied the old knight.

  Then Martin raised the issue of the “fuel peas.”

  “We were too busy with the other tests to experiment with these,” he said. “I’m still trying to work out how to run the tests. If we place a pellet into a barrel of petrol, how will we know its effect? Pour it into a car’s fuel tank and see if it goes? And if it doesn’t, what then? We might need to replace the fuel tank, the fuel hoses—perhaps even the motor.”

  “Let’s take this step by step,” Sir Cedric said. “I suggest that we prepare two items for the test: a regular paraffin lamp—you know, the old ones with a wick for lighting—and a small fuel-driven motor, like a battery-charging generator. We’ll put some fuel into a container and then add a pellet to it. After waiting a few minutes, we’ll put some of the treated fuel into the lamp and try to light it. If it lig
hts up, that’s that—the experiment has failed. But if it doesn’t, we’ll put the fuel into the generator. And now, if the generator doesn’t start up either, we’ll know that the ‘peas’ work! How does that sound to you?”

  Martin confirmed the plan. It was obvious that he and his lads would be doing the testing.

  “As to the fate of the motor,” continued Sir Cedric, “I’ll see if Conrad Hoffman has any ideas.”

  The meeting was adjourned, and Sir Cedric and the admiral departed. Martin remained seated. It was an awkward situation. Had they started the evening without company, they would no doubt have exchanged hugs and kisses. But the board meeting seemed to have affected the mood. They were finally together alone, and neither of them knew what the next step was going to be.

  Anne sat helplessly opposite Martin. She didn’t know what to say or what to do. It seemed that any initiative on her part would be grossly inappropriate.

  More than anything, Martin wanted to take Anne into his arms and tell her how much he had missed her and wanted to be with her. But he, too, felt that anything he did would cause this delicate situation to collapse—the wrong way.

  Finally, Anne cleared her throat.

  “How about something hot to drink? And perhaps a bite as well? Some canapés, maybe?”

  “Right!” Martin silently thanked her for breaking the hush. “I’ll help you in the kitchen.”

  He followed her into the kitchen. Anne put on an apron, and then she took another from the closet and tied it around Martin’s waist. As she reached behind him, he embraced her, held her close to him and kissed her full on the lips. She responded readily, and the kiss became a series of kisses—on the face, on the neck and on the lips again.

  Martin held her out at arm’s length and looked into her eyes.

  “I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” he said simply.

  “I think it’s happened to me, too,” she answered.

  It seemed they stood like that for hours. In actual fact, they shook themselves awake after a couple of minutes and addressed the issue of a snack. It didn’t take long before the cold cuts, baguette slices, butter, and boiling tea were on the table.

  The awkward feeling returned. They didn’t look at each other, and no words were spoken. It was as if they were ashamed of doing something they shouldn’t have. This time it was Martin who broke the ice.

  “Did you continue with Tanya’s case while I was away?” he asked.

  Anne paused before answering. She remembered he had cautioned her—she could get burned if she played with fire. True, she had behaved quite irresponsibly. But she had an excellent cover story. She decided to tell him everything. Between bites of food, she described how she had approached one of the addresses she found by impersonating a pollster from the university.

  “She asked me inside, but I refused,” Anne concluded. “From the security point of view, I think I behaved properly.”

  Martin had listened silently. He seemed deeply attentive as he chewed slowly on his canapé. From time to time he took a sip of his tea, returning the cup noiselessly to its saucer so as not to interrupt Anne’s flow of the story.

  Anne waited, tense, for his reaction.

  “Yes, Anne, you have acted properly,” he began. “But, my dear lady, you must realize that you were lucky this time. Next time it could very well end up quite differently. And I sincerely hope there will not be a next time. Be honest with yourself, Anne—if you had met up with the murderer do you have any doubt that you would have been his next victim? Admittedly, you have proven yourself a true leader of a world-embracing operation. But that’s by remote control—not hand-to-hand combat. You are not equipped to face a killer who may feel he has nothing to lose. He could, and probably would, drag you into his hideaway, done you in as he did Tanya, and nobody would know where you’d disappeared to or what had happened to you.”

  “You’re probably right. Next time I’ll have to think harder.”

  “No, Anne!” Martin was firm. “There will not be a next time! I love you, and I will not allow you to get hurt. Whatever next step you’re planning, I want to be a part of that plan and be there to protect you.”

  “I wanted that, too. But you were away in Tunisia, and I couldn’t consult with you. I just couldn’t resist the urge.”

  Martin believed her sincerity. But it also meant she couldn’t be left alone for too long, as she may get another ‘urge.’

  The snack was reduced to a few crumbs, and the tea was depleted. After taking the dishes back to the kitchen and cleaning them, they returned to sit facing each other in the living room.

  More silent embarrassment.

  Martin wanted to take Anne into his arms, but thought the timing was inappropriate. He couldn’t just get up, walk over to her, bend down—no, that was grotesque. He wasn’t thinking of sex. He couldn’t picture himself leading Anne into the bedroom. Perhaps on a later occasion, at a more opportune moment….

  We’re not teenagers, Anne thought. We can’t just yield to our instincts. Hugging and kissing require the correct opportunity—like after being parted for a long time. Or the correct ambience—like when we kissed in the kitchen. No, we’re two serious adults discussing a very unsavory issue. Not appropriate for hugs and kisses.

  For lack of a better option, Martin brought up an item he had been saving for the next board meeting.

  “I think it isn’t a good idea to have me as the sole signatory of our bank account,” he blurted. “If anything happens to me, there’d be no way for you to withdraw the money.”

  “You’re right,” Anne said. “We should have thought about that earlier. That goes for the admiral’s account as well. I’ll bring this up at the next board meeting and you both can begin rectifying the situation.”

  Martin got up as if he was about to leave. Anne deliberated between inviting him to stay “a little longer” and accompanying him to the door.

  “Well, we’ve talked enough,” Martin said. “It’s time to go.”

  Anne got up from the couch and joined him by the door. Martin held her hands gently and kissed her on the forehead.

  “Next time,” he said softly, “with your permission, I’d like to stay a little longer.”

  Anne smiled as she watched him walk down the stairs. This was one of the happiest days in her life. Yet, she was slightly disappointed that the evening hadn’t taken a different turn. I’m not a schoolgirl any longer, she thought. At my age, I should take a different view on life. She paused while shutting the door. And I shall! Tomorrow I’m going to have dates with a cosmetician and a hairdresser. And it’s high time I get myself a new dress.

  The Iranian president has announced that Iran has completed all the necessary stages in the development of nuclear power, and that his country may now consider itself as a member of the “nuclear club.”

  The Sunday Telegraph reports that diplomatic negotiations are doomed to failure, and that the Pentagon is planning a military strike against Iran’s nuclear installations and bases aiding the Iraqi rebels.

  At the assembly of the International Atomic Energy Agency in Vienna, the Iranian Prime Minister declared: “The Iranian nation is resolved to continue its progress to the highest levels of development and national might. We are not intimidated by the price of this achievement. We interpret all threats against us as weaknesses of our enemies.”

  Various sources report that North Korea has signed a treaty with the West in which she agrees to terminate her nuclear development. However, it was also reported that North Korea is currently selling nuclear technology and equipment to Syria, which could be “the initial steps leading toward nuclear weapons.”

  At the UN general Assembly, the French president has announced that his nation would act to exacerbate sanctions against Iran. However, he has made clear that France does not seek war with Iran.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Sir Cedric dialed Conrad Hoffman’s number from his office.

  “My dear Cedric,” boome
d the Viennese scientist. “How good of you to call. I assume you have some initial impressions about the peas.”

  “Indeed I have,” replied Sir Cedric. “Very valuable asset we have here. But there is still something I need to ask you—it will save us a lot of test time. Is the affected motor permanently out of commission or can it be repaired in some way?”

  Hoffman laughed.

  “That is the very first thing I asked myself when I realized that the pellets actually work. No, my friend—the motor is not even damaged, just temporarily neutralized. You need to drain the fuel tank. You may need to wait for some time until the tank, carburetor, and fuel hoses dry out. Or use compressed air to hasten the process.”

  “Conrad—our next dinner date is on me! Pick your favorite gourmet restaurant! Thanks a million.”

  THIRTY

  Admiral Stone hosted the next board meeting at his home in Brighton. Anne was delighted to leave the bustle of the city, if only for a few hours. On the other hand, she was eager to end the meeting as soon as possible so that she could join her parents and children for a long-awaited weekend together.