Two Steps Forward

by Luana Ehrlich

  “I believe it was ten years ago. It was back when we were young and foolish.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  “I realize you haven’t had any reason to follow my career, but for the past seven years, I’ve worked as a section head in Critical Mission Support, so naturally, I’ve kept up with yours. In fact, I was on the Operation Torchlight logistical team when you had that trouble with the secret police over in Tehran.”

  “I had no idea. When did you transfer to the Ops Center?”

  “Eight months ago. About the time you were down in Cuba.”

  “Not one of my better memories.”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “Well, Veronica, like I said, I’m a little confused. I don’t understand why the Ops Center was informed my sat phone was pinged by Shin Bet. I didn’t even know this satellite unit was registered to an RTM Center. I guess I thought Support Services didn’t register a sat phone until an operation was running.”

  “That’s usually the case, but it’s a little different when the operatives have already been assigned to an operation. Douglas has already named you as the primary for an upcoming operation, and I imagine the sat phone you’re carrying is registered under the operation’s name.”

  “That’s probably what happened.”

  Although I didn’t think there was much chance she’d give me any information about my upcoming operation, I didn’t figure it would hurt to ask, so I did.

  “Has my operation been given a name yet?”

  “Yes. It’s Operation Invisible Target.”

  Okay, that was interesting. I pushed my luck a little further.

  “Has Douglas given you the operation’s protocols yet?”

  “No, as I understand it, he’s waiting for some new intel. Once he gets that, and the DDO signs off on the protocols, then my team will start working out the logistics. The only thing I know for sure is that Operation Invisible Target will be run from RTM Center A, and I’ll be directing it.”

  “I’ll look forward to working with you, Veronica.”

  Of course, I didn’t mean it.

  She may have felt the same way.

  “Same here, Titus. I’ll see you back at Langley in a few days.”

  “Sure thing, and can I assume you’ll be taking my location off the Grid now? I mean, there’s no reason for you to be tracking me, is there?”

  “No. Unless your phone gets another ping from Israeli intelligence, it’ll be off the Grid until Invisible Target goes operational.”

  “Thanks, Veronica.”

  “Good talking to you, Titus.”

  * * * *

  When I hung up, I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was the same feeling I’d had almost a year ago when I’d knelt down beside my father’s headstone in the cemetery where I’d just buried my mother. That day, I’d wept countless tears, even though my father had passed away several years before my mother’s death.

  The sorrow I felt that day was the result of being convicted about my feelings toward my father, who’d been an alcoholic and emotionally absent from our family when I was growing up.

  I’d spent over an hour at his gravesite confessing my sinful attitude toward him, not only asking his forgiveness for all the wrong I’d done but asking forgiveness from God as well.

  Before making my commitment to Christ, my attitude toward my father had never bothered me, but afterward, I felt terrible about the way I’d treated him, and that feeling hadn’t gone away until I’d been willing to confess what I’d done.

  Was that happening to me again?

  Was I feeling convicted about Veronica? Was it possible after all these years of never giving her a moment’s thought, I was suddenly feeling remorseful?

  I felt certain the answer was yes, and I breathed a prayer asking forgiveness for my past actions.

  Did I need to ask forgiveness from Veronica as well?

  Probably.

  But, as I exited the freeway and entered the parking lot in front of Shin Bet Headquarters, I put that thought out of my head.

  Asking forgiveness from my dead father was one thing.

  Asking forgiveness from a living, breathing Veronica was another.

  * * * *

  Within five minutes of presenting my passport at the front desk of Shin Bet Headquarters, I was escorted into Geller’s office. Unlike Carlton’s office at Langley, Geller’s office was small, windowless, devoid of any personal items, and altogether unimpressive.

  Moshe Geller was a rotund man, mostly bald, with a full gray beard. He was seated behind a wooden desk surrounded by stacks of papers and three telephone consoles.

  Although he was looking down at his laptop when the officer ushered me inside, he glanced up briefly and motioned for me to be seated in one of the chairs lined up in front of his desk.

  I took the chair on the left because Geller’s laptop was angled in that direction, and I thought I might be able to see what he was looking at on his screen.

  As I sat down, I could tell he was viewing a video.

  When he noticed where I’d chosen to sit, he looked amused, but then he immediately closed the lid.

  After removing his reading glasses, he reached across the desk and offered me his hand. “Welcome to Shin Bet, Titus.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Director Geller. Douglas always speaks highly of you.”

  “Oh, believe me, the feeling is mutual. Maybe that’s why I was surprised to hear he was using the situation with your friend to find out more about the Tzora kibbutz.”

  It was obvious Geller was a man who got right to the point, so I followed his cue and stated my business as well.

  “No, Director, you’re wrong. Douglas did me a favor by asking you for information about Lisa Redding. He doesn’t have any interest in Tzora, and the only reason I’m interested in it is my wife and I are going out there tomorrow to visit Lisa, and I want to have all the facts before I get there. I don’t like walking into a situation blind.”

  “Well, you’re certainly living up to your reputation.”

  “I have a reputation?”

  “Not here at Shin Bet, but you definitely have a reputation over at Mossad. When I told someone over there—whose name I won’t mention—where we got our intel on Baran Asan, he told me you’re a person who pays attention to details. I believe he said, ‘Titus sweats the small stuff.’ He gave you high marks for your tradecraft too, and he’s not someone who hands out praise lightly.”

  I assumed Geller had some hidden agenda behind his flattery, but I played along with it until I could figure out what it was.

  “I think I know the person you’re talking about,” I said, “but when I worked with him in Lebanon, he was the one who kept me from walking into a trap. It wasn’t the other way around.”

  He smiled. “Yes, he said as much.”

  I decided to play it straight with him. “Look, Director. I’m fairly sure the Tzora kibbutz has some connection to your intelligence services, but I have no idea whether it’s Shin Bet, Mossad, or Aman. Whichever it is, I don’t want to show up there tomorrow with my wife and have someone misunderstand the purpose of my visit.”

  “I can see why that might be troubling to you, but what makes you think the kibbutz has a connection to one of our intelligence services?”

  “There are several reasons, but I’ll begin with the most obvious one. I heard there was a terrorist incident at the kibbutz recently. Since I understand the kibbutz is primarily a community for people with special needs or for those suffering from mental disorders, I can’t imagine why a member of a Jihadist group would target the Tzora kibbutz when there are so many more attractive targets—at least to a terrorist who wants to make a statement.”

  “As I’m sure you know, terrorists’ incidents in Israel are quite common. They occur far too frequently, irrespective of location.”

  “While that’s true, Director, that incident isn’t the only reason I have my suspicions about Tzora. There
are other anomalies as well.”

  “Okay, let’s hear them,” he said, briefly touching his temple.

  “I promise I’ll be brief. First, the residents at the kibbutz aren’t registered under their own name, and secondly, getting access to the Tzora kibbutz is strictly controlled.”

  “Okay, suppose you’re right. Suppose our intelligence services are using the Tzora kibbutz. How do you see it being used?”

  “That’s hard to say. Perhaps it’s a medical facility, or it could be a training camp, maybe even an interrogation center. I’d say there are at least a dozen ways you could be using it.”

  “You’re quite the creative thinker.”

  “Does that mean I’m right?”

  Geller steepled his hands together in front of his chin and studied me a moment before finally nodding his head.

  “You’ve analyzed the situation correctly.”

  “Could you expand on that?”

  He paused and looked up at the ceiling.

  A few seconds later, he met my gaze, placed both hands on his desk, and leaned in toward me. “Mossad has an interest in the Tzora kibbutz, but they’re using it for its intended purpose. That is, they have certain agents suffering from mental issues who are being treated at the Horizons Clinic. Shin Bet also has a presence at Tzora, but that’s only because we’re in charge of their security. On the other hand, Aman, our military intelligence agency, has absolutely nothing to do with Tzora.”

  “Can I assume the recent terrorist incident at the kibbutz involved a Mossad agent?”

  “That’s correct. I won’t go into the details, but a member of Mossad was the target of that attack. Visitors are now required to give twenty-four hours’ notice before being issued a pass, and each visitor is thoroughly vetted before they arrive at the gate.”

  “I figured as much. That’s why I wanted to speak to you before we go out to the kibbutz tomorrow.”

  “Yes, it sounds like we need to have a discussion about your visit. But first, I need to walk down the hall and speak to Hannah Melcer. She’s the analyst I asked to put together the dossier on your friend, Lisa Redding. This won’t take long.”

  As he got up from his desk and headed toward the door, he paused and said, “I’m sorry. I realize now I should have vetted the materials I sent Douglas. That was a mistake on my part.”

  “We all make mistakes, Director. I do it all the time.”

  * * * *

  I figured Director Geller wasn’t comfortable having me listen in on his phone conversation with Hannah Melcer, and that was the reason he’d chosen to make an in-person visit to her office rather than picking up one of his three phones and calling her.

  Nevertheless, by doing so, he’d left me alone in his office.

  Except, I wasn’t completely alone.

  His laptop computer was just inches away from me.

  And, it was definitely calling my name.

  Although I didn’t believe Geller’s office had any hidden cameras in it, I got up from my chair and checked out the room just to be sure.

  That done, I walked over, sat down at his desk, and opened up his laptop. The video he’d been watching when I’d sat down across from him, immediately resumed playing. There was no audio, but it didn’t take long for me to understand why he’d been so fascinated by it.

  It was a surveillance video featuring Baran Asan.

  I had no idea where the video had been taken, but I knew it had been taken recently since Asan was still dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing on the flight from Lisbon.

  The video showed him seated at an outdoor café with two men. Asan appeared to be having an intense discussion with them, but despite that, all three men were keeping an eye on their surroundings.

  There was little doubt in my mind the two unidentified men were well-trained operatives just like Asan.

  Although I was tempted to keep watching the video, I’d already satisfied my curiosity, so I closed the lid on the laptop and resumed my seat.

  Geller walked back in the room less than a minute later, but I pretended to be looking at something on my cell phone and didn’t glance up at him until he walked over and sat down at his desk.

  Once he was seated, I noticed his eyes never strayed over to his laptop. Instead, he looked down at what appeared to be a copy of Lisa’s dossier and said, “The friend you’ve been looking for—this Lisa Redding—she’s definitely a resident of the Tzora kibbutz, but she’s registered there as Lisa Redstone. Were you aware of this?”

  “Yes. One of our own analysts uncovered that information, but I’d like to know why she changed her name. Would this be a kibbutz policy?”

  “No, it’s Mossad’s policy. They do it to protect the identities of their former agents when they’ve suffered a mental breakdown.”

  “Are you saying Lisa Redding is a Mossad agent?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Chapter 19

  I wasn’t prepared to hear the news Lisa Redding, Eleanor’s grandmother, had worked for Israel’s national intelligence agency, and it took me a few seconds to absorb that bombshell.

  As if I needed convincing, Geller read off various dates and descriptions concerning Lisa’s tenure with Mossad, including when she’d gone to work for them and the positions she’d held.

  When he finished, he said, “Perhaps it’s time for you to tell me why you were looking for Lisa in the first place; unless, as I suspected at the beginning, this whole scenario was something the Agency cooked up so they could get verification of how the Tzora kibbutz was being used.”

  “I assure you, Director Geller, the Agency has nothing to do with why I’m in Israel, and if you and Douglas are such good friends, then you already know that. I’m here looking for Lisa Redding because of a little eight-year-old girl who needs her grandmother.”

  Without giving him a lot of details, I told him how I’d been involved in a joint operation with Lisa’s son-in-law, Jeremy Taylor, who’d been killed by a Houthi commander during an ambush in Yemen.

  “When I discovered his daughter Eleanor was going to be put in foster care until her grandmother could be notified, I made arrangements with the Department of Defense to get temporary custody of her. I assumed the DOD would be able to locate Lisa within a few weeks, but when that didn’t happen, I asked Douglas to use his contacts here in Israel to help me find her.”

  “And that’s where I came in,” Geller said.

  “That’s right. My wife and I used the information in the dossier you sent Douglas to make contact with Lisa’s neighbors here in Israel.”

  Geller shook his head. “If I would have taken the time to read this dossier before forwarding it on to Douglas, I would have seen the transcript from the Tzora kibbutz and realized what was going on with Lisa Redding. Had that happened, I would have informed Douglas about the situation.”

  “I believe the conversation in that transcript took place between Lisa’s neighbor, Rose Stillman, who works at the Horizons clinic, and Felix Glaser, Lisa’s next-door neighbor on Cremieux Street.”

  “Yes, I just verified that with my analyst.”

  “If Rose is a nurse at the kibbutz, can I assume she’s also a Mossad employee?”

  Geller nodded.

  “So, tell me, Director, is it just a coincidence that when Lisa was suffering from depression she just happened to move into an apartment behind Rose Stillman, who’s an employee of Mossad and trained to deal with depressed patients?”

  Geller smiled. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “No, neither does Douglas.”

  When Geller leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, I had the feeling he was about to make me an offer I couldn’t refuse.

  “Please keep in mind Lisa Redding is an employee of Mossad,” he said, “so I have no direct knowledge of her case, but I’m willing to contact someone over at Mossad and ask them to assist you when you go out to the kibbutz tomorrow.”

  “What do you mea
n by assist me?”

  “Usually, when relatives or friends show up at Tzora, they aren’t given the full picture of the patient’s condition. They’re only told what Mossad wants them to know. I’ll ask my contact at Mossad to make sure you’re given a true assessment of her condition and an accurate prognosis for her recovery. I imagine you probably want that in order to make a recommendation about her granddaughter’s future.”

  “Thank you, Director. I appreciate your help on this matter. Or rather, I should say my wife and I appreciate your help.”

  Geller cleared his throat. “You’re welcome, and in return for my help on this matter, would you help me with another matter; something completely unrelated to your reason for being in Israel?”

  “Well, that depends,” I said, knowing full well where this was headed. “What kind of matter is it?”

  “It’s the matter of Baran Asan. Like the additional information I’ve given you on Lisa Redding, any additional information you could give me on Asan would be greatly appreciated.”

  “Does that mean you’ll reciprocate by sharing what happened to Asan after he presented his passport at Ben Gurion?”

  “Of course.”

  * * * *

  The moment we completed these mutually beneficial negotiations, I noticed Moshe Geller moving his laptop closer to him, which made me wonder if I’d repositioned it correctly on his desk.

  However, he gave no indication he was aware his laptop had been accessed while he was out of the room, and after opening the lid and using his touchpad to bring up the screen he wanted, he turned it around so I could see it.

  “First of all,” he said, “you need to know I made the decision to allow Baran Asan to enter Israel on his false passport.”

  He held up his hand as if to stop me from saying anything. “Yes, I know that was risky, but I felt it was worth the risk. As you can see from these surveillance videos, we’ve had Asan in our sights from the moment he left the airport.”

  The video Geller showed me was different from the one I’d seen on his laptop when he was out of the room. This one showed Asan renting a car at the airport.