Global Conspiracy

by David Shomron

  Martin had arrived early. The Café Latino was already bustling with patrons and the only free table was on the sidewalk. He would have preferred not to be so exposed, and sit inside—but he took the only choice available. Patricia arrived at ten thirty on the button. Her outfit was very impressive, and many men swiveled their heads toward her. Martin made a mental note of her punctuality. In a city like Paris, he mused, in order to be punctual you need to arrive at your destination long before the appointed hour, wander around a bit, and then show up exactly on time. He didn’t know if that was the procedure she had employed, but decided to find out at some later date. There’ll be ample time for that.

  Martin stood, shook her hand, helped her into a seat and ordered a café crème and croissant for both of them.

  “The last time we met was in Tunisia, wasn’t it?” Martin asked with a smile.

  “Correct. And may I add that although it was a very pleasant trip, it was strange and made no sense. I’d even say it was silly.”

  Martin kept smiling. Patricia didn’t know what to make of it, or why she was requested to meet with him.

  The waiter served their order.

  “Patricia, you’re a smart and educated young lady, and we were all aware that you did not fall for the movie story we gave you. However, we kept playing our roles in accordance with the instructions we received before embarking on the trip. If there was no real necessity to reveal everything, we kept our exposure to the minimum. Well, today may be the day of revelation. It all depends on how our current conversation develops.”

  Martin added sugar to his coffee and waited for a response. Patricia just sat in silence, concentrating on her croissant as if she had nothing to say at the moment. Martin couldn’t tell whether this was sheer indifference or a skillful act.

  “In Tunisia,” he went on, “we conducted a scientific experiment. For all the locals knew, we were a movie crew with an actress, and that’s how we wanted it. We now need your help again. However, this time I’ll explain what it’s all about and then ask you if would like to comply.”

  Patricia was now interested.

  “I’m listening,” she said.

  “Let’s begin with the statement that the fate of the world is in danger. Dictators keep sprouting up, they threaten world peace, and the western democracies cannot cope with them.” Martin described the association’s ideology in detail.

  “And how do you expect to achieve your aims, assuming it’s at all possible?” Patricia asked.

  “We believe it is possible. We have a number of top scientists working toward that goal, and a couple of very wealthy men who finance the entire operation. We already have a few devices that could seriously embarrass the most dangerous of tyrants.”

  “What,” Patricia kept on asking, “are these mysterious measures by which you wish to humiliate dictators such as the Iranian president?”

  “Well, as you’re making an example of the Iranian president, you should know that there is strong opposition to him in his country. Even the religious leaders, who de facto run the country, are not pleased with his policies. They are quite aware of the dangers he might be inflicting on his country. So—sometimes just a little push can topple even a wrestling champion if he’s teetering on the brink of an abyss. Now take North Korea. People there are starving. They need to rummage in the garbage to feed their children. The leader is a demagogue. Take away his oratory powers, and you may have finished him altogether.”

  “You still haven’t told me how you’re going to do it!” Patricia insisted.

  “No, I haven’t. That was deliberate.” Martin smiled again. “First I need to know if you agree to help us in doing all the above. In other words—will you join us?”

  Patricia still had questions.

  “Do you really believe you can replace a regime without a war? Just by embarrassment?”

  “Patricia, you are familiar with my military past. I’m sure you can put two and two together—if I am undertaking this mission, isn’t that a definite sign that I believe it can be done?”

  Patricia fell silent. She placed her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. Her eyes took on a faraway look, and then they closed gently as a faint smile came to her lips. You could almost read the deliberations she was going through just by observing her face.

  She had filed for divorce three years ago because her husband wanted her to be a model housewife. That meant staying at home almost all of the time, shopping, cooking, and hosting his guests who bored her to tears. She just couldn’t take any more! Since her divorce, she found she had changed. She was no longer the lively, happy-go-lucky girl she used to be before her marriage. She kept testing new fields of interest—sports, hikes, theatre, painting—but none had the appeal she was looking for. She really had trouble finding what to do with herself. Now here was an offer to participate in something that sounded as if it were very important. If nothing else, she’d be busy doing something useful. It could be exactly what she needed in order to extricate herself from the emptiness she was finding herself in. Just one more question.

  “What would I have to do?”

  “First, you’d have to commit yourself to total secrecy. Next, you’ll be joining me on a mission commencing now! We’re taking a tour of Iran. We’ll be learning the local conditions in order to prepare plans for an operation later on. I suppose the trip will take us about a week. We will appear as an ordinary tourist couple. Between us, however, we shall maintain strict teamwork discipline.”

  “And if I agree?”

  “Then you are committed. Not only for this trip, but you will have joined our association, with all that entails. And I shall reveal to you the means which we intend to deploy.”

  Patricia’s features gradually became brighter, and her eyes sparkled.

  “I agree to join you,” she whispered.

  “I am honestly very glad to hear that. You must never, ever, tell anyone of our conversation under any circumstances! This is a very solemn promise you are required to make—if word gets out, our operation will have to be cancelled, including what we have discussed just now. Can you promise?”

  Patricia hesitated only slightly.

  “Yes, Martin—I solemnly promise to keep everything secret!”

  Martin leaned back and heaved a sigh of relief. He proposed they drink a toast, but Patricia declined, claiming it was too early. Instead, she requested examples of the methods used by the association. Martin’s descriptions of Paganini and its anticipated effects had them laughing out loud. What the hell, she thought, I might as well be a part of an exciting—possibly useful—adventure. Better than wandering around without a purpose.

  From this moment on, Martin and Patricia coordinated all the details of their impending trip. She got the task of planning the flights, booking them, organizing hotel rooms, tours, car rental—the lot. She even had to get the proper visas from the Iranian Embassy. Patricia felt a certain thrill of enjoyment in the hard work imposed on her. She hoped this thrill would go on and on.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Anne surprised her parents by arriving on a Thursday instead of the usual Friday. Her excuse was that she felt a bit tired and under the weather, and had taken a long weekend off. The family was delighted, naturally, especially the children who adored their mother. However, she specified that she’d need a couple of hours for some administrative chores—a few telephone calls, perhaps a social visit, but nothing more. She found her children in high spirits. They were about to finish the school term and were looking forward to the summer holidays.

  The next day Anne took the train to London. While disembarking, though she knew she was being silly, she couldn’t help looking back, trying to discover whether she was being followed. She entered a nearby mall and called the admiral from a public telephone.

  “I’m at Paddington Station,” Anne said when he answered. “Are you free?”

  “Take a taxi down here right away,” Admiral Stone said. “My secretary i
s on vacation and I’m all alone in the office.”

  Anne wandered around the shops for a while and then took a taxi giving the address of a hotel near the admiral’s office. After walking from the hotel, she entered the huge lobby of the office building and joined the throngs of people entering and exiting. This was ideal if anonymity was necessary—nobody could tell where anyone was going or where he or she came from. Anne had made the trip from Paddington in less than half an hour.

  The admiral’s office was on the sixth floor. She was warmly received and ushered into his private office, after he had carefully locked the front door. They sat on opposite sides of his large desk, sipping on drinks he had thoughtfully prepared, and Anne gave a detailed rendition of everything that happened with Commissaire Duval.

  “I’ve given this much thought,” she concluded. “I assume that Duval probably turned to Scotland Yard for help.”

  “But the case was closed,” the admiral said. “We read it in the papers.”

  “Yes, it was. That’s why I believe Duval has launched his own private crusade. He does that sometimes—the press is full of it. Mind you, Patrick, these are all speculations.”

  “They certainly are, Miss Sherlock Holmes. But they are also fascinating. Please do go on.”

  “He must have a friend in Scotland Yard. Through him, he knew of Sir Cedric’s flight to Paris and probably also got his description. Duval waited for him at the airport and then trailed him to my apartment.”

  “That still does not justify harassing you. Rude as he is, that would be taking things a bit too far.”

  “Wait, Patrick, there’s more. Just over a month ago, Tanya Gerard was murdered in Paris. It made headlines at the time—she was a famous actress and stage director. She was a very close friend of mine, and I was questioned by the police, along with all her family and friends. I was quickly dismissed as having nothing to do with the murder.”

  “And that was when you first met Duval?”

  “No, just a minor official. But Duval was in charge of the case just the same.”

  “So?”

  “Now, with the Allier case—closed or otherwise—also on Duval’s agenda, he had the audacity to claim that as I was a friend of the murdered woman, and I was also a friend of a colleague of another ‘murder victim,’ there were grounds to question me again. I’ve told you the rest.”

  “What a bastard,” the admiral muttered.

  “Indeed. He requested ‘my permission to have a talk with me again.’ I told him he could do so any time. Now I am worried sick about what to do. Our safety, of course, comes first. And then—how can we stop this sonofabitch, pardon my French? I have deliberately refrained from contacting Sir Cedric and have come directly to you, as Duval knows nothing about you.”

  “Do you think you were followed here?”

  “I took all the precautions I could on my way over—I’m pretty sure I was not followed. And another thing—I believe that now both Paris and London are ‘out of bounds’ for our meetings. There—I think that’s everything. What’s your opinion?”

  Admiral Stone rose from his seat, went to the window and gazed in silence onto the London traffic for several minutes. When his thoughts had settled he turned back to Anne.

  “There is no doubt in my mind that Duval is conducting his own private investigation. It is, however, no less dangerous than an official inquiry—perhaps even more. An official investigation is routine, a personal one is driven by ambition. Now, what could he possibly gain by interrogating you and by following Sir Cedric? Nothing, I believe. He can surmise and conjecture as much as he pleases, but that won’t be enough to reopen the case. I think there is only one possible direction he could take, and that is the device itself. The police have it right now. We know from Martin that it is impossible to trace. So, dear lady, I believe you can set your worries aside. If he pesters you again, you may tell him exactly what you told him before.”

  “That’s a relief,” Anne sighed.

  “As to stopping him,” the admiral continued with a smile, “there may be methods. Short of eliminating him, of course. Why don’t we discuss this at the next board meeting?”

  “All right.”

  “Which brings us to our meeting location. You are absolutely right! We can take no chances. As you said—Paris and London are out of bounds from now on. Despite the discomfort it will cause us, we need to find somewhere outside France or England for our meetings. How about Amsterdam? I know of a very suitable office …”

  Anne made a face.

  “Amsterdam is a notorious drug center,” she said. “Crime and prostitution are rife there as well. The police there are on constant alert. Personally, I prefer Brussels. It’s closer to Paris and about the same distance from London as Paris is, so it shouldn’t make much of a difference for you.”

  “Very well,” the admiral said. “I shall consult with Sir Cedric and notify you.”

  “As you are the only ‘unsullied’ one of us three, it’ll be up to you to notify Sir Cedric and Martin, and set up the next meeting in Brussels. I think it would be best to reserve a suite in a large hotel, where many people mill around most of the time. We could then all get to the suite without being noticed. Tuesdays are best for me, if possible.” She stood up.

  “Yes, sir!” the admiral said. “I mean, yes madam!”

  They shook hands.

  Anne took the train back to Reading in a much calmer mood. She’d be back home for tea, and she was bringing the children’s favorite cookies with her.

  NEWSFLASH

  The American president announced today that if measures were not taken against the Iranian nuclear program, a third world war would erupt. Iran, he said, is a threat to world peace. The American Secretary of State declared that the US would wait for the results of the diplomatic processes between the European Union and Iran, subsequent to which the US would decide upon its course of action.

  On the other hand, the Russian president has met with his Iranian counterpart and has promised to continue his support for Iran’s nuclear program. This has caused concern in the US, especially in view of the tension between the two powers due to the American intention of deploying missiles in Europe.

  Admiral Stone, ever the proper naval officer, went immediately into action. He left his office and called Sir Cedric from a public telephone. They agreed to meet at their club, as was their wont for many years. If Sir Cedric were followed, he’d be seen entering his club. He would never be followed inside—everyone knew everybody, and a stranger’s presence would not be tolerated.

  Inside the club, after clinking their brandy snifters, Admiral Stone updated Sir Cedric with the most recent events.

  “Following me?” Sir Cedric blustered. “It’s an outrage! I shall notify the proper authorities. Such things just aren’t done here!”

  “I don’t think you need go so far, my friend,” responded the admiral. “Let the dust settle first. We’ll just have to be more careful, that’s all. I’ve consulted with Anne, and we propose to meet in Brussels next Tuesday.”

  “Wise choice.” Sir Cedric had calmed down as quickly as he had flared up. “I shall never travel to Paris again. Where in Brussels do we meet?”

  “I have booked a suite at the Sheraton Towers for Monday and Tuesday.” He gave Sir Cedric the suite number. “I shall notify Anne and leave a message for Martin at the gym. We’ll meet at eleven a.m. sharp on Tuesday morning. Each of us will arrive alone, linger a while in the lobby, and then come up to the suite. No one is to ask for me at the reception desk.”

  “Right!” Sir Cedric exclaimed, and finished his brandy.

  Martin wanted to inform Anne of his success in recruiting Patricia. He called her apartment but got no answer. What a disappointment—she must be busy. Well, he’d try later.

  Meanwhile, he had preparations and packing to do for the trip to Iran. He and Patricia had set up a meeting that evening to compare notes. She informed him that they would need to visit the Iranian Cons
ulate personally to apply for visas. On Fridays the consulate was closed—so they needed to wait over the weekend. She had also obtained a list of relevant round-trip flights, good tourist hotels in Tehran, prices, car rental agencies, and many other pertinent bits of information. All in all, once they had the visas they could leave at any time.

  Martin called the gym and was informed by Spencer that he should contact “the guy who was with you in Tunisia.” Consequently, the admiral told him of the meeting in Brussels, giving the exact time and location, with a further instruction of “don’t ask for me at the desk—come straight up.” But he disclosed no further information.

  That’s odd, Martin thought. This is the first time that the admiral, not Anne, sets up the meeting. And outside France or England, yet. Could this possibly have anything to do with Anne’s not answering the phone these past two days?

  FORTY-NINE

  The board had assembled in the admiral’s suite. Martin was the only one who did not know what the meeting was about. He hoped he could see Anne, and that they could be together after the board meeting.

  Anne related her story regarding Commissaire Duval’s visit to her home. This was mainly for Martin’s benefit, as he had to understand why they were now far more cautious about board meetings.

  “Before we discuss current matters,” Anne began, “I would like to pose the following questions: should we let Duval continue undisturbed in his quest to solve an officially closed case, or should we look for means to stop him?”