“Again, what would you like me to do?” Erika asked, “If I raise an alarm, I will be asked to show the evidence. You know your credibility has completely collapsed last week, when you presented the evidence via Moussa Nafaa.”
“Chief Inspector,” Yaakov said in a serious tone, then, after being hit by Helena’s elbow, he immediately corrected himself, “Police Chief, I meant, we need you to lend us a Swedish government plane.”
“What?” Erika asked again in disbelief. “A plane?”
“Yes, we would like to get to the Equatorial Guinea Elevator before the mission starts and persuade mission control to carry out another security check, this time on behalf of the Swedish government,” Helena said, “you know that private and commercial jets are not allowed in the no-fly zone around the elevator, so we need a plane belonging to some agency of one of the Euro-Russian Federation countries. You are our only hope.”
“I do not understand why you do not share your evidence electronically with us and the Elevator security, if you have new elements,” Erika asked, “Why do you need to be on site tomorrow?”
“We have no new evidence Erika,” Yaakov puffed, “but we might have some tomorrow, and it would be far better to be on site rather than set up holocalls that might not be answered, on not answered on time. It’s all about being ready and flexible.”
The face of Erika moved out of the holocall screen, and long minutes of silence followed. The Police Chief re-entered the cone of light of the holocall camera with a frown in her eyes.
“Who is supposed to take part to the flight?” she asked.
“It would be just the three of us,” Louis replied, “Ideally, the crew should wait for us here in Sicily, as we get there. You heard that Helena can speak perfect Swedish, in case, and Yaakov can fly the plane and I am assisting with the analysis of…”
“That’s out of question for you to go, Dr. Picard,” the Police Chief cut Louis short in the middle of his sentence, “I am already going beyond the lines of what I can legitimately do, I cannot also let you escape your house arrest regime, even momentaritly. The plane crew will stay with you in Salina, just to reinforce surveillance.”
All three in the room looked at each other and then Helena nodded to the hologram.
“We accept your conditions, Chief, can you send the convertiplane now?” Yaakov said impatiently, “We have a little more than eight hours to get there, and it will take almost four hours to fly from Stockholm to Sicily.”
“I will do my best, Yaakov, I just gave the departure order to the Police plane,” Erika replied, “Hopefully, you will get to the Elevator station shortly after Ali has started his trip to the geostationary orbit station. This will give you around twelve hours to get what you need done….if you get something to share in the meantime. I would like to have a look at it as well, before you do anything on my behalf.”
“It’s a deal, Chief. Take care, we’ll stay in touch,” Helena answered, and ended the call, then looked at Yaakov, “Are you sure we are going to get something by then?”
“I hope so,” Yaakov whispered.
Three thousand miles away, a few minutes before the dawn of October 21st, Ali Tantawy entered the security scanners prior to boarding the Elevator module he was supposed to pilot. The officer at the scanning machine asked why he was bringing so many memory pods into his backpack, and Ali replied that his son had asked him to take a full high-definition video of the trip, so that was the bare minimum required by the camera. The officer smiled and allowed Ali into the module, moving to the next passenger. The module lifted off perfectly on time, at 6:35 AM, while Yaakov and Helena were still impatiently waiting for the Swedish plane to land in Catania, Sicily. One of the engines had suffered a malfunction that took more than four hours to repair, eating into the margin they had.
“By the time we get there,” Helena calculated, “the module will be beyond low-orbit station and accelerating to geostationary speed.”
“We still have time,” Yaakov replied, looking at his smartwatch, “We have another six hours before the module reaches the intermediate orbit station, where it can still be blocked and inspected.”
“What if it goes beyond that?” Helena asked, “Can that still be stopped?”
“In theory, yes,” Yaakov answered, as he checked once again the route to be inserted in the plane navigation system, “but we do not yet know if this is the attack. My contact didn’t call yet.”
“Your contact…” Helena repeated, “..you never disclosed those details, not even to us. A friend of your old employer, I guess.”
“It might be, or not,” Yaakov replied, “You know they are in a difficult situation now.”
“How do you know he, or she, won’t deceive us?” Helena asked, “You came up with the evidence Farlimas had moles inside, after all.”
“Let’s say I showed a pretty convincing scenario to a very influential guy, who might tilt things in the right direction,” Yaakov was choosing every word, “a scenario no one in JRC would tolerate..”
In the Elevator module, Ali put the vehicle on autopilot a few minutes after having left the low orbit station, then stood up from his seat, took his backpack and moved to the back of the cabin. “I am going to do a routine cargo bay inspection tour,” he told his two passengers; an Indian engineer and an Australian biochemist, “just to make sure we have no carbon dioxide leaks from the containers”. He entered the cargo area and moved close to the outdoor emergency port, then checked that the external door was sealed before he opened the inner door and distributed on the floor of the compartment half of the memory modules inside his backpack, making sure they were not visible from the cargo bay camera. He quickly closed the door, and loaded the remaining modules in the camera he had mounted on the rear window. Finally, he reached the exhaust valve of one of the carbon dioxide tanks and set it to the minimum open position. According to his calculations, the carbon dioxide alarm would go off in about eight hours, just one hour before reaching geostationary orbit. When he returned to the cockpit, the Australian asked how the video recording was proceeding. “It’s just fine,” Ali replied, “Our planet today is more beautiful than usual.”
At about the same time, the plane with Helena and Yaakov reached the limits of the no-fly zone and the Elevator Air Traffic Control radioed them almost immediately. Helena replied, simulating to speak English with a Swedish accent and turning on all the plane electronic identification beacons. They were quickly cleared to proceed once they were identified to approach the landing strip one hundred miles away.
“On the runway, you did not tell me what you think would persuade some bad guys to change their minds,” Helena never gave up on her curiosity, “or not, considering nobody has called us, so far.”
“In almost all the cable breakdown scenarios that we simulated,” Yaakov answered, smoothly, “one or the other cable falls across Israel, completely erasing the strip between Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, and Amman. You might not have noticed this, but I did. It is my home, after all.”
Helena was about to say something, when the satellite phone of Yaakov rang. He answered in Hebrew, then he turned to her and ordered.
“Quick, activate the data bridge to Louis and Erika. We are going to receive information to use with the Elevator security, but let’s have a look at it first”. On the screen of the cockpit, the drawings and trajectory diagrams of the forty attack drones showed up, each one disguised in a memory pod. Yaakov and Helena had barely finished to go through the projection when a text message from the Police Chief appeared on the communication console. It simply read, “You are allowed to proceed, won’t call you to waste your time. Good luck.”
Helena and Yaakov looked at each other and smiled, they both appreciated the promptness of Erika. They immediately called Elevator Air Traffic Control.
“ATC, this is Swedish Police One,” Helena screamed in the microphone, “We request to talk urgently with the head of security. It’s an emergency.”
Twelve
thousand miles above them, the module was approaching Intermediate Orbit station. Ali calculated that in one hour they would pass the last control station, past the point of no return. He took his smartphone and opened what seemed to be an unnecessary game, and went to the settings tab. He activated the drones to turn on the engines and follow the programmed trajectories once ejected in outer space. He then played for a few minutes, closed his videogame, and faked some irritation with the results. The Indian passenger noticed it and asked what game he was playing. “It’s a replica of a vintage arcade game called ‘Space Invaders’,” he said nonchalantly, “the very last alien just overtook my last gun and I lost.”
After fifteen unnerving minutes, the voice of the head of Elevator security squeaked through the radio of the plane.
“Swedish Police One, this is Iba Diouf, security head on duty, what’s the problem?” he asked without masking his irritation.
“This is Captain Helena Rasmussen, on behalf of the Swedish police,” Helena answered calmly but confidently, “We have just sent you data that points to a grave security risk linked to the module running on cable no.23, now close to approaching Intermediate Orbit Station. We ask you to stop the module for inspection at Intermediate Orbit Station.”
“Captain Rasmussen,” Iba Diouf snapped back immediately, “It would be the second time in two weeks that we stop a mission out of emergency grounds. Why should we do it? The first time it was a big fiasco and source of embarrassment.”
Yaakov pointed out data on the screen that Louis, who was listening to the conversation, was sending in real time. It was the social media page of Iba Diouf, showing him out of the Temple in Yamassoukro, wearing an impeccable Navibahai outfit.
“Shit,” Helena thought, and tried to make up for her cold mindedness. She moved to a softer tone of voice.
“Head Diouf,” she said, “the module is being piloted by Ali Tantawy. The file we sent you about twenty minutes ago shows that he has been given microdrones of the same type used in killing our Welfare Minister back in February, and that it is very likely that he has the same drones with him on board, for potentially dangerous purposes. We kindly beg you to stop the module for a search at intermediate orbit.”
Helena then looked at Yaakov, who asked to talk.
“In the meantime,” he said, “we also ask authorization to land, in fifteen minutes we can show you more evidence.”
Some silence followed, then the ATC controller jumped in. “Swedish Police One, you are not authorized to land for 45 minutes, due to air traffic and runway congestion. We see you have enough fuel to enter the holding pattern to the west of the Elevator”.
Yaakov and Helena looked at each other. In forty-five minutes, Ali would be past Intermediate Orbit Station and any possibility of being stopped. Beside that, what congestion could there be in an airport that sent out no more than twenty flights a day? In any case, they had no choice.
“Alright, we enter holding pattern now,” Helena said, as Yaakov set the data in the navigation computer, “Chief Diouf, I ask you again to stop Ali Tantawy now at Intermediate Orbit station.”
“Negative, Captain Rasmussen,” Iba answered, upset. “We will re-evaluate your evidence and come back with an answer by tomorrow. In any case, you can arrest him when he is back at ground station, in two days from now, if your evidence is strong enough.”
“At least,” Yaakov said, “It won’t look like absolute fatality.”
“Are you happy about that, Yaakov?” Helena’s eyes stared him down, “Half of the world perished, but look at the half empty glass!”
The module left Intermediate Orbit Station. Ali read a text on his smartphone, saying ‘Minor nuisances deflected, clear road ahead’ and exulted in silence. There was nothing left between himself and success. Another three hours and he would become the weapon that the Almighty had chosen to take people back to the right path. Nobody would ever know it, beyond Farlimas and very few others, but Ali was not looking for glory or fame. He was looking for recognition from God.
“Swedish Police One, you can leave the holding pattern and land at your convenience,” the voice of the ATC controller sounded neutral through the headphones of Yaakov and Helena.
“Roger, ATC, we begin the descent in two minutes,” Helena replied, then switched the radio off and turned to Yaakov, “Are you sure you do not have anything else to send out?”
Yaakov looked at her and reflected her question.
“I sent out all the data I had to. Are you sure you do not want to call Louis? The text I got five minutes ago is enough?”
“It’s enough, Yaakov,” Helena sighed, “It took me ten minutes to think about it. I could not handle a conversation now. Let’s go.”
Yaakov activated the route he had calculated in the past ten minutes on the navigation system and switched autopilot on. The plane suddenly accelerated, and banked westwards to the left. It was less than ten seconds before the ATC voice broke through the cockpit headphones.
“Swedish Police One, you are leaving the descent pattern and heading toward the cable area. Please correct your route immediately.”
As the ATC voice turned more frantic, Yaakov reduced the volume and started counting.
“Impact in thirty seconds, cable no.23 three miles away” he commented coldly.
“Are you sure the anti-aircraft defenses won’t take us down before?” Helena asked worriedly, then again “And we will be able to tear the cable?”
“I told you, Helena, we are into the inner perimeter classified as friendly object, air defenses need at least fifty seconds to reclassify us as a threat and target us,” Yaakov smiled, wishing he could have more time to spend working with such a brilliant professional. “The coordinates I set guarantee that we will hit the cable with the starboard engine. Its carbon blades are hard enough to break it. The rest of the plane would just be sliced like salami. Fifteen seconds to go, 1.5 miles to destination.”
The ATC controller’s voice grew louder, this type replaced by the robotic alert system. “Swedish Police One, please change route now or you will become a target of the defense system.”
“Ten seconds to impact, last mile to go,” Yaakov said, then extended his hand to Helena, “Thank you, Helena, I would have wished a different end, but this one is not too bad either. Five seconds.” Helena squeezed Yaakov’s hand. “It’s a honor for me as well, Yaakov.”
Ali was about to look again at his timer, when the module alarm lights went off. Instinctively, Ali looked at the carbon dioxide leak detector panels, but they were all green. He then realized that there were still two hours before the leak had to be detected. He was still lost in his thoughts, when the Australian drew his attention to the traction control screen. The alarm read ‘Cable continuity loss’, and it was the first time that Ali saw it. He rushed with his memory to the simulator sessions he had gone through, found nothing, as the Australian was spreading his fear to the Indian, he resolved to consult the artificial-intelligence handbook. The alarm, he learned, could arise due to anomalies in the current propagations or be the result of an outright break, in which case the worst for the module was yet to come. Released from its Earth anchor, and pulled by the huge centrifugal force of the counterweight at geostationary orbit, the cable would start accelerating below the module, increasing the attrition along its course. Low and intermediate orbit station would soon realize it, and cut it off to avoid damage to their structures. Ali had not yet gone through the holomanual, that the temperature sensors on the cable guides turned up to red, signaling also that the module was deviating from the course to geostationary orbit. Before Ali could articulate an explanation, the Indian came up with the perfect description.
“We are on a mad horse in the high atmosphere…we are doomed.”
Doomed….the word brought Ali back to his true mission, so he rushed to his smartphone, and, to the bewilderment of the other two crew members, he launched ‘Space Invaders’. He tried to rush to the settings page to immediately act
ivate the drone release in outer space, but the heat of the cable eventually melted a section of the module shield and caused an oxygen tank to explode. The module spun off course and completely broke in two, releasing all its human and robotic content into the silence of outer space.
Chapter 28
The small group of invitees was already gathered in front of the stonewall of the alcove for more than ten minutes, when Eliezer Mahlab, prime minister of both the JRC and of the Contended Terrritory of Israel, appeared from around the last corner of the maze, accompanied by a person nobody in the group could identify.
Eliezer went to the podium, in front of the four rows of chairs set out for the audience. As the space between the walls left no room for loudspeakers, he was forced to project his voice.
“My dear guests, welcome to Gilot. This small town north of Tel Aviv has been hosting the memorial to our fallen in the intelligence activities for nearly a century,” he said, then looked at the first row, where Louis Picard was pushing the stroller back and forth as Hannah, his toddler, napped.
“Today, we are commemorating an ordinary and an extraordinary memorial service at the same time. An ordinary one, because we are writing once more on these walls, the name of those who sacrified their lives in the eternal war of intelligence to protect the Jewish State from threats. And, at the same time, an extraordinary one, because for the very first time we will write in the stone the names of two goyim, two gentiles, whose sacrifice was crucial for the mission to have succeeded, and not only the Jewish State. Without them, the whole world would be on the brink of collapse once again.”
Eli Mahlab, as he was nicknamed, stopped, and motioned for the serviceman on his right to lift the drape and uncover the names of Yaakov, Helena and Tarek on the stonewall. A small applause came from the audience, then the prime minister continued.
The Last Enemy - A history of the present future - 1934-2084 Page 50