Global Conspiracy

by David Shomron

  Five seconds of silence. Then they all burst into laughter.

  “You don’t say!” roared Sir Cedric. “We? Doing something illegal?”

  Martin grinned.

  “Seriously, now,” he said, “I suggest we all ask around and see if we can collar such a hacker, as they are called. If and when we find such a person, we’ll recruit him, subject to this forum’s approval. Agreed?”

  Nods all around.

  “One more thing,” Anne said. “I’d like to set up the recon trip to the North Korean border. Martin, I believe you’ve made all the flight arrangements. So, to sum up: you and Spencer Partridge will pose as tourists. You’ll take nothing with you that would indicate anything to the contrary. You’ll arrive in South Korea and ‘tour’ the area along the border with North Korea. See if you can make contact with smuggler’s who cross the border. We’ll expect you back a week later with a full report. Any questions, anyone?”

  There were none.

  The telephone in Sir Cedric’s residence rang insistently. Sir Cedric ran out of the shower with a towel round his waist and picked up the receiver.

  “Sir Cedric Norton speaking.”

  “Good day, sir.” The voice had a refined, but definitely French, accent. “This is Commissaire Felix Duval of the Criminal Investigations Department of the Paris Police.”

  Sir Cedric did some quick thinking. He knew that Allier’s death had been reported in the French—and some of the British—press. He had closely followed the reports on the investigation, which were minimal, and he knew that the case was closed. Duval’s name was familiar to him from these reports. Therefore, this call was an enigma.

  “I apologize, Sir Cedric, for taking your valuable time. But I would be most grateful if you could assist me—even minutely.”

  Sir Cedric replied in a cool voice.

  “How could a British citizen assist the French police, commissaire?”

  “I am referring to the investigation into the death of Professor Albert Allier. I understand that you and he were professionally acquainted, and that you were in touch with him shortly before his demise. Perhaps you know of any other contacts the late professor may have had that could shed light on the mystery of his death.”

  Sir Cedric was frantically collecting his thoughts.

  “I am quite aware, Sir Cedric, that I have no authority to interrogate a British citizen. The formal approach would be by putting in an application to Scotland Yard, who would then summon you … I thought that we could skip the unpleasant formalities as I only wished to ask you a simple question … you know … so I’m approaching you directly…. Naturally, you do not have to answer me at all.”

  Why on earth is he so insistent? Sir Cedric thought. We both know the case has been closed. Better to let him think I don’t know about that.

  “I quite understand,” he said. “I have known Professor Allier for several years. We never worked on the same projects, but we did consult with each other from time to time, as scientists are wont to do. Occasionally we dined together. But what more can I tell you?”

  “Do you know whether he had any contacts outside the academic world? Perhaps industrial concerns or other organizations? Or other scientists and just plain people with whom he had recent contact?”

  “Over the years I have met a number of people who knew him. I cannot name anyone in particular, I’m afraid.” Sir Cedric cleared his throat. “It is not my position to give you advice, commissaire, but I believe that in Paris you’ll find many people who knew the professor far better than I did.”

  “You are absolutely right, Sir Cedric. But I have a number of points I need to clear up. For instance, the device that caused his death—nobody can explain what it is. And his wife claims that of late he had been overly excited and was absent from home more than usual.”

  “Indeed. And these are mysteries you want resolved. Well, all I can say is ‘good luck,’ commissaire.”

  “Thank you for your cooperation, sir. If you visit Paris, I would be delighted to invite you to a cup of coffee and we could discuss the professor at leisure. If you can afford the time, of course. Goodbye.”

  Sir Cedric put down the receiver but stood in thought, one hand on the telephone and the other still clutching the towel. What was the real reason for Duval’s call? He had spoken to the widow and probably got Allier’s telephone book from her where my name appears. But what did he hope to get from this call? It’s beyond me. Anne and the others must be informed about this. It’s very unlikely that he has a tap on my phone, but just to be on the safe side I shall use a public phone. We need to assemble an urgent board meeting.

  Anne was troubled by what Sir Cedric had told her about the call by the French Police. She, too, had followed the press and she knew that Commissaire Duval was the officer in charge of the Allier investigation. When the association’s members had all arrived, she opened the meeting.

  “Gentlemen,” she said nervously, “from now on we need to be doubly cautious. Even though none of us, barring Sir Cedric, have had any contact with Allier, we have no way of knowing how close Duval’s investigations will take him. He might be capable of following Sir Cedric and eventually finding us.”

  “I don’t think there is anything to worry about.” Martin’s voice was calm and soothing. “Sir Cedric is one of hundreds of people who probably had contact with Allier. Moreover, Sir Cedric’s relationship with Allier is of a long-lasting friendship and scientific dialog. Even if they follow him right into this meeting of ours, they’ll have to apologize and withdraw because they have nothing to ask us. Next—if they look for a transport company that delivered the device, they’ll find nothing. There isn’t such a company. I keep saying ‘they,’ but in actual fact there’s only Duval—we know that the case is closed. His story about tying up loose ends is a fabrication—there’s no such official procedure with a closed case. He may be conducting a private investigation of his own.”

  “Why on earth would he do that?” Anne asked.

  “The only reason I can think of is that he has a clue or clues that his superiors rejected, which he thinks may be of importance. For instance, we took pains to leave the electric plug without fingerprints. I’m sure he noticed that, and perhaps he thinks it strange. Also, the machine itself does not really fit in with any scientific or industrial scheme. But we know that the Examining Magistrate has considered all this evidence, and that he ordered the case to be closed. So I suggest we forget this incident.”

  “Except me,” Sir Cedric said.

  “Correct, Sir Cedric, except you. Duval did, after all, get to you. But I think that if you just take a few precautions from now on, we won’t run into any trouble.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Martin studied North Korea through every source he found—publications, maps, Internet, press articles, etc. He requested Admiral Stone to provide him with data that might be less available to the public. They met in the admiral’s office to iron out the details.

  “I’ve done a little research of my own, Martin,” the admiral said. “Even though politically the two Koreas were never a single entity, they are populated by the same people: same race, same language. In 1945, at the end of the Second World War, North Korea was occupied by the Soviet Union, and South Korea by the Americans. Two states were created: the North became communist, of course, and the South came under the American capitalistic influence. The population was also split between North and South. Families were torn apart, and many lost their land and possessions, remaining only with deep scars and bitter memories.”

  “Right you are, admiral,” Martin grinned. “And here is what I found out. The population along the border between the two Koreas speaks the same language, and the contact between split families has never been severed. The political rift was deepened further by the 1950 war, which lasted three years, when the North was backed by Communist China and the South by the United Nations. So, we can expect that there are well-established routes across the border wher
e people and goods travel … umm, unofficially. Furthermore, due to the immense impact of the Americans over the years, many of the populace speak English!”

  It was the admiral’s turn to grin.

  “Off you go, then,” he said. “Good luck.”

  “I’ll have Spencer prepare the logistics,” Martin said.

  Some last details needed to be clarified before Martin and Spencer left for Seoul. At the board meeting at Anne’s apartment, Anne made sure there were no misunderstandings.

  “Martin, please repeat the nature of your mission.”

  Martin grinned.

  “Sure. We are trying to find a way into North Korea in order to infiltrate at some later stage with personnel and/or equipment.”

  “What security measure are you taking?” the admiral asked.

  “The utmost. We don’t really know what opposition we’re up against, so everything has to appear natural in accordance with tourist behavior.”

  “Dealing with smugglers,” Sir Cedric said pompously, “is not a regular tourist activity.”

  “Correct,” Martin said. “That will need extra special safety precautions. If we do meet up with smugglers, and we do get caught by the authorities—which I doubt, because they themselves probably benefit from this traffic—I’m pretty sure the smugglers will provide us with an alibi. The worst-case scenario is that we are stupid foreigners looking to make easy money. We pay a fine and leave the country. We won’t be put in jail if no transaction takes place, and that is not our intention at the moment. Just investigation.”

  “How will we know if you’re in trouble?” the admiral asked.

  “We won’t be.” Martin grinned again. “However, I suggest that Anne and I keep in touch by telephone. All conversations will be normal as between a couple separated for a short while. Thus, we can discuss our health, the weather, flight schedules and the like. Nothing operative, of course.”

  “Are there any more questions?” Anne asked. “Well, thank you, gentlemen. Meeting adjourned.”

  Martin lingered in the kitchen while Sir Cedric and the admiral left. He wanted to have a more personal farewell from Anne. When the door had shut behind the two elderly Englishmen, he stepped forward and took Anne’s hands in his.

  “Umm, Anne, I’ll be away for two or three weeks, and I—ahh—I didn’t want to leave without giving you a goodbye kiss.” He could feel his face turning red.

  Anne smiled into his eyes, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth.

  “Don’t go,” she said softly. “Are you in a hurry to get anywhere?” He shook his head. “Then stay! I want to be alone with you.”

  In a flurry of joy, he picked her up by the waist and rained kisses on her face and throat. Anne glanced toward the bedroom—she just couldn’t help herself. She hesitated a bit then indicated to Martin to put her down.

  “Why don’t we get something to eat,” she said breathlessly, “And perhaps later we’ll rest a bit.”

  Martin was relieved for the delay. He didn’t know what to anticipate exactly. He, the ultimate ladies’ man who could bed any female he wished, now had ‘cold feet’ when facing this extraordinary woman.

  “Good idea,” he said. “I’ve hardly eaten anything today. I could eat a horse.”

  Anne brought leftovers out of the refrigerator—sliced salami, a couple of cheeses, gherkins and half a bottle of merlot. They ate in the living room in silence, their eyes never leaving each other’s faces.

  “Silly me. I didn’t fetch the biscuits,” Anne said finally, when they had almost finished. “I’ll get them now.” From the kitchen she called, “Have you ever been anywhere beyond Iraq?”

  “No.”

  Anne returned with the biscuits and took her seat.

  “Personally, I have never been east of Athens,” she said.

  The chitchat continued for about half an hour. Then the food was all gone and the conversation died out. There was a minute of silence.

  “You’re …” Anne whispered, “you’re not going to leave now, are you?”

  Martin’s confidence was restored by this question, and he laughed out loud.

  “Go and prepare yourself for bed. I’ll join you when you’re ready.”

  The ice was broken.

  Anne had not felt so excited and stimulated in years. She went to the bathroom and changed into her sexiest negligee, sprayed a delicate perfume on herself and went to the bedroom. Martin had not prepared himself for an overnight stay and joined Anne wearing only his shorts. She was lying on her back on the bed, her arms tucked under her neck. Martin smiled at her and, without waiting for further encouragement, sat on the bed by her side. He leaned over her, laid his head on her chest and kissed her breasts through the fabric of her nightie. She gasped a short “wait,” pushed him gently away and in one deft motion removed her pajama top. At the sight of her naked breasts, Martin could contain himself no longer. In a whirlwind rush, they were both naked and their bodies merged. Anne had never felt such passion since her days with Raoul—it was almost worth waiting all these years for it. She wanted it to go on and on.

  When Martin awoke the next morning, he found himself alone in bed. He got up and found Anne preparing breakfast, complete with porridge, eggs and fried sausages. He was touched. Since childhood, nobody had ever prepared breakfast for him. He embraced her from behind and covered her neck with kisses.

  Anne closed her eyes and absorbed his kisses as a sponge soaks up water, while a deep moan formed in her throat. My life has changed overnight, she thought. I‘m in love, and I have a lover.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  “You’re in particularly high spirits today, Martin.”

  Spencer Partridge and Martin Cooper were aboard the Korean Air flight to Seoul. Like many other tourists, they sat in economy class seats and sipped on soft drinks.

  “Right,” answered Martin. “I’d expect you to be, too. I find it quite exciting to visit a country for the first time.”

  They chatted and dozed intermittently until it was time for lunch. The petite stewardess suggested the airline’s specialty, bibim noodles, which they both enjoyed.

  “You know, Martin,” Spencer said, “I love my job at the gym and range, but I am certainly glad for these opportunities to get away and do some operational work. I believe I speak for the others as well. We soldiers need a periodical change of pace—much like a car needs to have its oil changed regularly.”

  Martin knew all along that his boys were itching for action, just the same as he was. Otherwise, he would never have offered them the option of taking part in the association’s activities. Nevertheless, he was pleased to hear it come outright from one of his teammates.

  Hmm, he thought. The next time a trip like this is planned, it would look more ‘natural’ if a couple were to do the recon. I mean, a man and a woman. Look at the other passengers on this flight—I’d say that over three quarters of them are married couples or have a close boyfriend-girlfriend relationship. Perhaps a man and his mistress here and there. Spencer and I kind of stick out—two men traveling together. Let’s consider this option for the trip to Iran.

  Anne and I touring Iran—what a wonderful thought! Visiting the tourist sites, staying at luxury hotels, tasting the exotic dishes… FORGET IT! She’ll be far too busy with the university and managing the association. Oh, well….

  They arrived at Seoul’s Incheon International Airport at 10 p.m. local time, after a twelve-hour flight. Another hour was spent getting to their hotel, where Spencer had reserved two rooms. Both were dead tired and turned in for the night.

  The next morning they met for breakfast.

  “Slept well, I hope,” Martin said.

  “Like a baby,” Spencer answered.

  Martin laughed.

  “Let’s go over what we planned to do here. We must never forget that for all intents and purposes we are tourists. So, after breakfast we’ll go to the desk and request to join a tour of the city.”

 
“When we return,” Spencer recited, “we’ll book a tour taking us out of Seoul for tomorrow.”

  “Meanwhile,” Martin continued, “we’ll find out about renting a car and buy a detailed roadmap of South Korea. We’ll probably get a map of Seoul on the city tour, but if not, we can pick one up at the desk. Starting on Sunday, we’ll make preparations to take a car up to the North Korean border area.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  It had been two days since that glorious night with Martin. Anne was still tingling from the after-effects. She felt she had shed several years, become a young girl again, vibrant and full of energy. The first thing she did was go on a shopping spree, something she hadn’t done for a long time. She visited the Galeries Lafayette and the boutiques of rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré. She bought dresses and shoes that she did not need. She treated herself to an exorbitant meal of plateau de fruits-de-mer with dry wine. She took a taxi home, threw herself on the bed and relaxed into a satisfying nap.

  When Anne awoke, it was already dark outside. She didn’t feel like going out again, so she sprawled in front of the television set with a glass of orange juice and some crackers. She watched the news, and then a murder mystery began.