by Yossi Porat
They passed through to the newer part of town and entered the Sheraton hotel. After the waiter had presented them with mint tea, they began the discussion which was the purpose of their meeting.
“What kind of information have you gotten from her?” his boss demanded.
“I just spoke to her yesterday. She is in exactly the right position to give us what we need,” answered Abu-Razik.
“To you personally, as well?” the Snake leered.
“Not at all,” Abu-Razik straightened his position in the comfortable chair. “This is strictly professional. I met her at the jazz club, as you know, after I found out that this is one of her favorite places. We’ve spent a lot of time together, listening to the music, dancing. I’m sure I’ve completely gained her trust. She thinks I’m a wealthy Saudi sheikh, you know.”
“Well, we need information quickly. Try to get as much as you can from her. The President is leaning on me, and he’s unpredictable. He may look like a
modern leader, a doctor and all, but who knows how he’ll react if he doesn’t get what he wants. He could become impatient and throw us both to the wolves.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This source will be great for us, don’t worry.”
The two men rose and shook hands. Abu-Razik, alone, took out his cell-phone and reached Laurie “Sheikh Sayeed?” she breathed. “When will I see you again? I’ve missed you.”
“Next week, darling, on Monday evening.” He answered. “I’ve missed you, too. Only two more days. I love you.”
Abu-Razik left the hotel and looked around at the darkened city. “How different from the bright lights of London,” he thought, hailing a taxi. The driver of the old Mercedes tried not to stare as he entered the cab, recognizing his famous passenger. “What a strange world,” Abu-Razik thought. “Today I’m in the old city of Damascus, brought back to my childhood by sights and smells, and tomorrow I’m in London, having a wonderful time.”
He paid the driver at the entrance to his home. He nodded to the guards, former Syrian army commandoes, who had been charged with the security of his home and family. Latifa, his lovely wife, was smiling as the two children ran to him, wrapping themselves around his legs. He put them down and gave his wife a kiss. The family immediately sat down to dinner. He watched his children and vowed to do everything to protect them and make sure that they would have no problems in this world, either in Syria or in the West. After putting them to bed, he returned to the sofa and he and Latifa watched an old movie, holding hands, until she fell asleep against his shoulder. He brought her up to bed and lay down next to her, hugging her tightly.
.….
Leora entered the elevator and whispered to Shlomo, “A.R. phoned. He’s coming on Monday. I’ll let command base know.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Menahem.” It was Leora on the office phone. “Could you please come up to my office?”
“Right away,” Menahem replied. He usually had his subordinates come to his office, but he made an exception for Leora, of course. Her disability made it difficult for her to negotiate the elevator.
“Do you know what LBS stands for?” she asked without waiting for him to sit down. “It’s Location Based Services, a service offered by GSM, Global System for Mobile Communication, one of the leading digital cellular systems in the world. Their unique service uses a SIM card, which every user must have in his cell-phone. The card includes certain information about the user. Control uses the SIM card to measure the strength of the transmission through eight different stations, as opposed to the normal six stations used by the cell-phone companies. Hence, ‘Octagon’ – eight control stations. So, with the exact location these eight stations provide, Control can individualize its transmission to a specific cell-phone user – LBS!”
“Very impressive,” Menahem replied. “What can we do to interfere with Control?”
“What we have to do is find the tracking stations. We also need to discover which part of the brain they’re transmitting their orders to, and how they achieve complete obedience from their subjects. We think Control developed algorithms that can take over transmissions from regular cell-phone companies without detection. On the other hand, it’s possible that they set up the eight tracking stations independently. At any rate, one of the side effects of these transmissions is an overload on the subjects’ cell-phones. The overload gives off heat to the area of the head and neck, and the subjects are aware of it when it happens.”
“What else do we know?” Menahem asked.
“They’re planning to expand throughout Western Europe, where the GSM
system is in wide use. So, to sum up, we know what they’re doing, but not how. But we’ll get to it, I’m sure.”
Menahem smiled and left Leora’s office. He decided to go straight to the Prime Minister’s office to report these latest findings. His authority was such that the Prime Minister’s secretary knew to let him go straight through, and the Prime Minister greeted him with an expectant air.
“They’ve developed a system of direct communication with individual subjects,” he began directly. “They use cell-phone communication and eight, rather than the usual six, tracking stations. This way they’re able to pinpoint the subject’s location exactly and individualize the transmissions. We’re not sure if these stations are their own or if they’ve devised a way to piggy-back on existing stations without the cell phone companies’ detection. They’re using the GSM communication system, which is in wide use in both Western Europe and,” he paused, “in Israel.”
The Prime Minister was pleased. “How did you get all this?”
“It’s Leora – she’s amazing. Smart, sharp – and beautiful.”
The Prime Minister smiled to himself. “Menahem always tied in physical appearance with his professional assessments. Well, it was a small price to pay for his expertise.”
“Thank you very much for informing me immediately,” he said as Menahem took his leave, closing the door behind him.
The Prime Minister picked up his phone and dialed Avram. “I just got the report from Menahem,” he proceeded to fill the Intelligence head in on Control’s operations. “We’ve got to figure out a way to prevent them from expanding to our area – the potential for extreme danger is obvious.”
“Why didn’t Menahem come to me first?” thought Avram. “I’m his direct superior.”
Chapter Fourteen
At exactly one o’clock, Deborah entered the Starbucks in Piccadilly Square. She swept the room with a gaze, but saw no sign of Morris. She decided to order and wait for him at one of the tables. Holding her tray of hot chocolate and a pastry, she sat down facing the door, the better to see Morris when he entered the Starbucks. She could see out the window to the street, and noticed a young couple, obviously deep in love, pass by in a close embrace. This made her so nostalgic for Lance and the beginnings of their romance that unwanted tears ran down her cheeks.
“Don’t cry,” came a warm, soft voice. It was Morris. “Are you feeling all right? Any side effects from the accident?” He put a strong hand on hers and gave her a squeeze. “Wait here, I’ll just go get something.”
He returned with a tall glass of iced tea, a yellow straw poking out of the glass. “Good for you – hot chocolate and a pastry. I just have to look at that and I gain two pounds!” he joked.
“I love sweets, “Deborah smiled. “Especially chocolate. Of course, I take care to work out and watch myself otherwise, so I hope it doesn’t show. What’s the story with the iced tea – and with a straw?”
“It’s a police thing,” he replied wryly. “I usually drink while driving – therefore the straw. And by the time I get around to drinking it, it’s cold – therefore the iced tea.”
They looked at each other, feeling a friendly wave pass between them. “So, what did you want to talk about?” he asked in curiosity.
“Well, I’m not sure why I came to you, exactly, except that you don’t know me or my husband and I wanted a
relative stranger to hear what I had to say.”
“Relax,” assured Morris. “Take deep breaths, and tell me in your own time.”
“I’m trying, but it’s hard!” Deborah got up, suddenly regretting this impulse to confide in a stranger. In her haste, she tipped the table over, spilling hot chocolate all over Morris’ pants. “Oh my God!” she cried, as a waitress hurried over to help Morris. “I’m so sorry!”
“It’s all right. Sit, sit and take deep breaths.” Morris said gently.
“Well, it’s like this,” Deborah began. “I have a terrible problem. Something very strange has been happening to me lately, and I don’t know how to explain it. Let me start by telling you that I’ve been happily married to Lance for seventeen years, and we have two wonderful ten-year-old boys, twins. I have never cheated on Lance, never even thought about it.”
“Okay,” Morris encouraged her. “So what’s happened now?”
“I work for a custom clearance firm, run my Mr. Raphael. In the five years I’ve been there, we have never had anything but a professional relationship. However, he recently appointed me to head up the opening of a new branch office in Rome. While I was there, Raphael joined me and we had an affair.”
Morris looked at her. “Why do you think you did it? Are you so sure you’re that happy with Lance? Could it be change of life?”
Deborah was slightly insulted. “You really don’t know me. What I’m trying to tell you is that this is definitely not me – I would never do something like this!”
“Okay” Morris tried to calm her. “Let’s try something. Sit back in your chair, close your eyes, and try to empty your mind.”
She did as he suggested and he leaned into her, speaking softly. “Try to pull yourself away from your surroundings. Now remember, what do all the episodes where you felt different have in common? Can you think of anything at all? How you felt at the moment?”
“You know, I remember feeling a kind of heat in my head and neck area every time,” she answered in wonder. She opened her eyes and stared at him. “Do you think this means something?”
Morris was in shock. “I can’t believe this. I’ve been having the same feeling of heat myself!” He removed a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. He would have liked to be alone right now – at home, thinking about what this all might mean. Instead, he began to speak.
“I’ve been married to Anne for seven years,” he began. We live in Camden Town, and as you know, I’m a detective inspector in the police. Anne is a psychologist who works with victims of domestic violence. We live very quietly and we keep hoping for children, but so far it hasn’t happened.”
“But why did you react so to what I said?” Deborah tried to understand.
“I’ve been having the same feeling of heat, also in my head and neck!” Morris looked at her.
“Have you also done things that were out of character?” she asked in astonishment.
“I don’t know. I can remember something vaguely. I think I did something very wrong, but I don’t remember the details. I think I stole some money.”
“Let’s try to remember. Do what you told me to do. Lean back and relax, close your eyes.”
Morris did as she suggested, but nothing came to mind. He heard his cell-phone ring – it was Anne. “Darling, let’s try to make a baby tonight. Come home early,” she breathed.
“Fine,” he said shortly. “I’ll be home by six.” He closed the phone.
“Don’t worry too much about the baby thing,” Deborah had overheard the conversation, and was trying to reassure him. “Lance and I also had problems in the beginning. After I had a miscarriage, we decided to take a long vacation in the south of France, to relax. When we came back, the change had done us a world of good – I got pregnant with the twins almost immediately!”
“Maybe I’ll take Anne away when all this is settled,” he replied thoughtfully. How easily they had shared intimacies, he thought with pleasure. “I can tell her anything,” he thought.
“Have you remembered anything at all?” she asked.
“I stole heroin and sold it to a big drug dealer,” he stared straight at her. “I bought Anne expensive clothes – actually that’s where we met, isn’t it? At Fenwick’s. Then we went out to a posh restaurant.”
“Is this the first time that you’ve done anything like that?”
Morris was deeply insulted. “I thought you realized that this is a total behavior change for me! Of course I’ve never done anything like this before!”
“I’m sorry – you’re right. I wasn’t thinking,” she apologized. “Tell me, aren’t you afraid you’ll be found out?”
“I must be crazy,” he replied. “I remember putting most of the money in a safe deposit box in a bank – and I can’t remember which bank it was. What am I going to do?” He put his head in his hands in despair.
“Maybe you should talk to someone on the force,” she suggested. “Here, take my number and keep in touch. We’ve got to figure this out together.” She wrote her number on a napkin and handed it to him. “I don’t trust cell-phones lately,” she added.
“Do you still feel the heat?” he asked.
“No, it stopped this morning. What about you?”
“The same,” he answered. “Why did it happen to both of us at the same time?” they both wondered.
Deborah got up, and with a squeeze of her hand on his arm, left the coffeehouse.
Morris stayed in his chair, sunk in thought. What do he and Deborah have in common? His temples were throbbing and his heart was racing. “What is happening? Who can help me?”
Suddenly he had a flash, as he often did when trying to solve a murder. “Maybe it has something to do with our cell-phones?” he thought. “That’s really the only thing we have in common – they’re the same model. But what could this have to do with a change in behavior?”
Back at his office, he called the technical support department, and asked for Sergei, the head of the department. When he asked Sergei if he knew of any connection between cell-phone use and a change of behavior, Sergei laughed in amusement. “Only in science fiction,” he answered in derision.
Morris walked through the hall to his superintendent’s office. “Benjamin, do you know anyone who can help me with cell-phone technology?”
“I’ve got a cousin in the business,” he answered. “Only 27 and thought of as a genius. You want his number?”
“Yes, please,” Morris answered gratefully. “But don’t be put off by his appearance,” the boss laughed. Morris didn’t get the joke, but he thanked the superintendent and returned to his office.
The note said “Robert Fielden,” and included a London number. A young voice answered, “How may I help you?”
Morris explained that Benjamin had referred him and that he needed help with his cell-phone. “Anything for Benj,” the voice answered. “When and where should we meet?”
“How about the Sheraton Park Tower in an hour? How will I know you?”
“I’ve got red hair and a red beard, and I’ll be wearing jeans. I’ll meet you at reception, OK?”
“Thanks so much, Robert,” Morris felt a sense of relief. “Maybe we’ll get to the bottom of this,” he thought to himself.
Chapter Fifteen
The lobby of the Sheraton Park Tower was decorated entirely with faux Louis XIV furniture, and it made Morris feel that he was in a movie set in Versailles. He looked around for Robert, and saw a tall, skinny red-head at the bar, nursing a Heineken. Morris strode up to him and extended his hand.
“How do you do, Robert,” he began.
“My friends call me Rob,” the young man answered with a smile. “How’s Benj?”
“He’s fine. He’s a terrific boss. I’m grateful that he gave me your number. Do you think you can help me?”
“Well,” the red-head began, “I’m not sure what you need yet, but I’ll tell you something about myself. I’m an engineer, and my specialty is c
omputer development. I think I’m pretty good at it.”
“Great,” Morris replied. “Let’s get to it, then. The only thing is, I must ask you not to tell anyone, including Benj, what I’m about to tell you. OK?”
“Sure,” the red-head assured him. “What’s it all about?”
“Something very strange has been happening to me lately. I’ve been acting completely out of character, and I don’t know why. I’ve met a woman who claims the same thing as well. Let’s start with her story. This is a woman who’s been happily married for seventeen years, has never cheated on her husband, never even wanted to. For the last few weeks, she’s been carrying on a torrid affair with her boss, taking tons of money from him, lying to her husband. Sometimes she’s aware of what’s happening and then she’s totally disgusted with herself, and sometimes she feels like she’s really into this cheating and lying.”