by Nir Hezroni
I meet him there and he instructs me to go to the Crowne Plaza Hotel near the airport, identify myself as Peter Connor and ask if anyone has left a parcel at reception for me. There I’ll receive an envelope with the details of the target.
I ask Amiram why he doesn’t simply inform me of the target now and save me the trouble. He says that he does not know the identity of the target.
He gives me an Irish passport in the name of Peter Connor, €50,000 in cash, one of The Organization’s encrypted cell phones, and several make-up accessories.
“Thanks, they’ll be put to good use,” I say. “I’ll submit a detailed list of expenses when I’m in Geneva.”
“It’s vital you complete this mission,” Amiram says. “Success will see you move up in The Organization.”
“Good.”
I purchase a pair of pants, a shirt, underwear, socks, a belt, shoes, a new bag for the laptop, and a can of Coke at the airport before the flight.
I drink the Coke from the can and then go to the bathroom to change into my new clothes. I transfer the laptop and the money and some of the make-up accessories to the new bag and shove the clothes and shoes I was wearing before into the old one, along with all the other things that Amiram gave me.
I go over to the DHL branch at the airport and pack the old bag into a cardboard box. I pay in cash and send the parcel to Dusit Zoo, Bangkok, Thailand.
That’s how I rid myself of all the tracking and listening devices that they planted on me without my knowledge when I was at the home base.
I fly to Dublin and from there to Switzerland.
In Geneva I go over to the reception desk at the Plaza and wait in line. I look around. A decorated Christmas tree stands near the entrance to the elevators, small lights flashing. A boy and a girl are standing there looking at the lights while their parents wait in the line to check in. The boy touches one of the glass decorations on the tree.
When it’s my turn I ask the clerk if there’s a message there for Peter Connor.
He asks me if I’m a guest at the hotel and I tell him I’m not.
He goes off to check and returns with 3 white envelopes.
He asks to see an ID card or passport and I show him my passport. Then I take the envelopes and go to a hotel in the city center.
I unpack the random suitcase I picked up from baggage claim at the airport when I get to my room. In it are the clothes of an ultra-Orthodox man and several Jewish books about the Bible.
I open the first envelope.
It contains 2 photographs of a young woman. 1 photograph is a close-up of her face, and the 2nd shows her playing with a small girl who looks about 4 years old. The woman is chubby and has long blonde-brown hair and brown eyes.
The same text appears on the back of both photographs:
The second envelope contains another 2 photographs. An elderly man—a close-up of his face and a photograph taken from farther back that shows his build. He is tall and thin and has short blond hair.
The back of his 2 photographs reads:
There are no names in the envelopes. Only the photographs and locations.
I open the 3rd envelope, in it there are 2 photographs of an elderly man. He looks about 60 years old, bald with a black goatee. 1 photograph shows him standing and smiling on the backdrop of a garden with trees and flowers. The other is a close-up of his face.
Again, the same text appears on the back of both photographs:
As I’m in Geneva, my first target is the young woman. I’ll kill the 2 men on my next trips.
I go to a restaurant near the hotel for lunch.
I’ll go to the client tomorrow and to CERN the day after.
December 4th 2016
Avner put the notebook down. Why three envelopes? And on three different continents, too! It doesn’t make sense. According to the findings in the official report, agent 10483 was believed to have embarked on an assassination campaign of his own volition and somehow managed to get his hands on a portion of the Bernoulli Project target list; but according to the notebook, he was given three envelopes. Unbelievable. Did someone make a mistake and gave him three targets from the Bernoulli list? Who would want to do that?
* * *
WELCOME TO THE ORION SYSTEM,
WAITING FOR INSTRUCTIONS
“SEARCH”
→ SEARCH FOR WHAT?
“BERNOULLI, TARGET LIST”
WAIT …
→ NO SEARCH RESULTS FOR “BERNOULLI, TARGET LIST”
“SEARCH”
→ SEARCH FOR WHAT?
“BERNOULLI”
WAIT …
→ NO SEARCH RESULTS FOR “BERNOULLI”
* * *
Avner squinted at the computer screen. Someone’s erased the project from the system. Or perhaps they’ve upped the security clearance level required to view documents related to the project? But it doesn’t make sense. Why would anyone want to erase the material, some ten years after the project?
A decision was made after the lessons learned in Berlin to drop the big-team format and revert back to the lone-assassin system. Large groups are more likely to be spotted these days as there’s hardly a public location anywhere in the world that isn’t covered by cameras operating 24/7, and computer systems can easily cross-reference both identities and the movements of large groups. But when it comes to a lone individual who switches identities, tracking becomes a lot more difficult. And if he’s caught, then it’s just one individual and not an entire group.
Following his creatively executed work in the Netherlands, 10483 underwent training to operate as an assassin under the new system. Alone, not as part of a team, without any backup. If he received three envelopes and acted in keeping with the system, he would have gone dark from the moment he received the missions and through to their completion.
10483 had done exactly what was expected of him.
He had acted in accordance with the new system.
The problem was that he had done so far too enthusiastically and with the mind-set of a psychopath.
Avner glanced again at the open notebook on the table and the computer screen in front of him. The clock in the bottom corner of the screen read 02:42. Time for another cup of coffee. He left the office and closed the door.
“Is your coffee machine still functioning?”
“Full steam ahead.”
“Another round of espresso?”
“Gladly.”
“I’m Avner. I haven’t even asked you your name yet, very rude of me.”
“Benny. It’s a pleasure.”
Benny filled the machine with water and removed two clean cups from the drying rack.
“What was that buzzing earlier?”
“An alert about an outside camera that stopped functioning. The one that covers the area of the parking lot. I had a walk around and didn’t see anything suspicious. The very same camera malfunctioned last week, and a technician came over to repair it. Apparently, he didn’t do a very good job. The guard who replaces me in the morning will call in another technician. I left a note for him on the on the desk.”
“How long have you been with us?” Avner handles the recruitment of agents, and “the human resources bug,” as he calls it, frequently takes hold of him.
“A year and a half. I’ve been told I can sit the tests for the basic course in six months.”
“Are you thinking of going for it?”
“I don’t know. I have two more years at university and I don’t want to leave in the middle, so I’ll complete my degree first and then decide.”
“What are you studying?”
“Information Systems and East Asian Studies. Here, take a look at what I was reading before you interrupted me with your coffee request.” Benny smiled and offered Avner a book written in Chinese.
“It’s all Greek to me.”
Benny laughed. “Our lecturer has some interesting ideas. She decided that we’re going to study Chinese philosophy in the original lang
uage this year. That way we’ll make more progress with the language and understand original intent without the need for a translation, which is never as exact as it should be. Especially when it comes to Chinese. She’s killing us though. I don’t even have time to shave in the mornings. I decided to grow a beard.”
“Chinese is good for The Organization. But not in my department. You don’t look like a typical Chinese.” Avner allowed himself a smile. The thought of taking someone with a European look and trying to pass him off as Chinese for the purpose of carrying out fieldwork as an agent in China amused him.
“You should think about a position at the home base after your studies. There’s a big demand for Chinese speakers.”
They sat in the kitchenette for a few more minutes and drank their coffee. Avner was happy to give his mind a rest from the notebook. Something about the way in which it was written bothered him, and Avner suddenly realized what it was. Almost the entire notebook is written in the present tense. There’s no past and no future. As if it was all one long-running, ongoing, and exhausting continuum. And the text was completely devoid of any emotive language. It’s all completely objective, seemingly related by someone on the sidelines, an observer, even though everything was written very close to the time it actually happened and by 10483 himself. Or so it seems.
Or perhaps it’s all one big scam?
Perhaps he has a partner or partners who are still alive?
Avner left Benny and returned to the office.
He sat down and picked up the notebook again.
January 1st 2006
The Crowne Plaza lobby is as dull as any European hotel. Armchairs, low tables, a bar, a drowsy bellboy standing alongside a baggage trolley with a couple of suitcases on its padded bottom, and two reception desk clerks sitting behind a large wooden desk, cost-effective lighting above their heads.
When Carmit landed in Geneva, she rented a car at the airport and drove to the hotel. She took a seat on one of the armchairs facing the reception desk and ordered a Diet Coke and a plate of fruit. She retrieved her laptop from her black leather bag and started a game of Solitaire, one eye keeping constant watch on the people entering the hotel. Every now and then she sipped her drink and ate a grape or segment of orange from the fruit platter.
An hour and a half later or so, her target appeared. She recognized him from the photograph she received a month ago. He cast a wary glance around the lobby and went over to the reception desk. Carmit continued with her game of Solitaire until he turned around again and left the hotel. At the same moment, she quickly slipped her laptop into the bag and exited the hotel.
While the target waited outside for a cab, Carmit got into her rental car, which was parked a few dozen meters away. She started it, but left the headlights off. A cab pulled up alongside the target at the entrance to the hotel. The target got in. The cab pulled away and Carmit followed, switching lanes and always leaving a gap of a few vehicles between her car and the cab.
The cab stopped at the entrance to the Tiffany Hotel. The target paid the driver and went into the hotel. Carmit handed her car over to the hotel’s valet service, along with a 10-franc tip, and walked inside. Instead of approaching the reception desk, she sat on one of the armchairs in the lobby and was reminded again just how much she despised hotels.
With his hotel room keycard in hand and two suitcases in tow, her target entered one of the elevators. Carmit watched it stop on the fifth floor. She got up from the armchair and went over to the front desk.
“Good evening. I’m from the group; I have a reservation under the name of Angela Fields.” Before handing her car over to the valet service, she’d seen them parking a car bearing a Cymedix logo.
The desk clerk checked his computer. “Sorry, I don’t see your name here.”
“I have a reservation number,” Carmit said, quickly whipping out a blank piece of paper from her pocket and reading out an imaginary number. “Five six three four two five.”
“That’s a strange number,” the clerk responded. “Someone seems to have given you the wrong one.”
“I can’t believe it! The travel department does this to me every single time. I just came in on a twelve-hour flight from Santa Clara, I’m dying to crash on a bed, and they fucked up my booking again? It’s always me who gets screwed. Look, that guy you just gave a key to is also here with Cymedix for the same conference. But surprise, surprise! His reservation’s fine. And I’m the one screwed, again!”
“Who? Room 513? He arrived without a reservation, actually. He took a regular vacant room.”
“You have vacancies? Well, why didn’t you say so? Screw the company, they’ll just pay double. Here’s my business card. Just don’t give me a room adjacent to 513. He snores like a buzz saw. He was right behind me on the flight; I thought I was going to lose it.” Carmit’s burst of rolling laughter prompted a chuckle from the desk clerk, who swiped the credit card and gave her a key to room 544, a nonsmoking room.
Carmit went up to the fifth floor and made a quick inspection of both its layout and the location of the emergency exit doors to the stairs. She then went back down to the lobby and found an empty armchair. She ordered a soda and grilled cheese sandwich this time. Half an hour later, her target left the hotel on foot, with Carmit trailing right behind him.
The target walked a short way down the street before entering a restaurant and taking a seat at a corner table with his back to the wall. Carmit walked in and took a seat at the bar. She glanced over at her target, who was talking to a waitress. The waitress smiled and nodded. From that moment, Carmit’s eyes never left the waitress.
“Ein Glas Weizentrumpf, bitte.” Carmit smiled at the bartender and placed a ten-franc note on the countertop. The bartender nodded and poured her drink. He offered her change but she waved it away. “Halten die Änderung.” He nodded again and put the coins in the tip jar on the bar.
The waitress who had taken her target’s order went over to the kitchen and then spoke a few words to the bartender, who was pouring beer into a row of glasses on the bar in front of him. As she spoke to him, the bartender turned momentarily toward the kitchen, and Carmit seized the opportunity to quickly pass her hand over the glasses and release a single drop of liquid into each one from the ring on her finger. She had her back to the target. Her hand and the glasses were not in his field of vision. No one saw what she did.
Carmit took a sip from her beer. Then she asked the bartender to point out the bathroom. He gestured toward a wooden door to her left. On her way over she watched the waitress collect the glasses of beer from the bar and serve them to the diners. Her target received one of the glasses. Carmit went into the bathroom, waited three minutes, washed her hands and then exited the bathroom and the restaurant. She crossed the street after looking left and right at the crosswalk to make sure no car was approaching and also to make sure that the target was drinking his beer. There were no cars. The target was drinking.
Carmit walked back to the hotel. She had four hours before the material would take effect. Her target would sleep particularly soundly tonight.
She used the time to take a shower in her room. The hot water flowed over her body, relaxing her and washing away the “airport smell” as she uses to call it. She then organized all the equipment she’d need during the course of the night and packed everything into a medium-size backpack. After completing her preparations, she got into bed and set her alarm for two in the morning.
Getting into room 513 posed no problem at all. Carmit inserted an electronic keycard that was attached to her iPod into the slot in the door. Some 15 seconds later the light on the door handle turned green and Carmit entered the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Her target was in the bed, fast asleep.
Carmit placed the backpack on the carpet at her feet. She opened it, removed her laptop and started taking pictures. First she took stills of the entire room, the bathroom and the bed in which her target was sleeping. She then switched the camera to
video mode and repeated the same exercise. From the backpack afterward she retrieved an inhalation mask, which was connected by means of a transparent flexible tube to a small device, and positioned it over the target’s face, fixing it in place with a rubber band stretched around the back of his neck. Carmit placed the device on the bed next to the target and turned it on. The device emitted a low buzzing sound and a fine mist-like vapor began flowing through the tube into the target’s lungs.
Carmit removed a white towel from her bag and laid it out on the carpet. She arranged all her equipment on the towel and checked that everything was in working order. She then proceeded to assemble the system on the sleeping target. She placed her laptop on the nightstand next to the bed and plugged a micro card into its USB port. Leading out from the card were two fine wires that each ended in an electrode, which she adhered to the target’s temples. She then opened an app that divided her screen into three sections, two of which remained black while the third flickered to life and displayed a green graph of the target’s brain activity across a time axis. Carmit went into the bathroom and retrieved two small towels. She rolled them up and placed them on either side of the target’s head. She then connected a set of headphones to the laptop and placed them over her target’s ears. Then she plugged a pair of black glasses into a socket at the base of the laptop. She applied two small bandaids to the target’s eyelids to keep them open, then she gently placed the glasses over his eyes.
Carmit reached for a small syringe. She removed a sterile needle from its wrapping and fixed it to the syringe. From a small glass vial she drew up a pink liquid into the syringe, and tapped it, making sure it was free of any air bubbles. She folded and positioned one of the target’s legs, knee pointing toward the ceiling, foot flat on the bed, and injected the solution into a vein at the back of his thigh, in a spot where the target would not be able to see the puncture mark.
“Here’s a little sauce for you,” she said to the sleeping target.