The Great Deception (20 page)

--

After Alfred Demsky was through talking to
Israeli Prime Minister Tuvia Elkin, he immediately dialed another
number. The unsettling afterthoughts of what Israel
’
s leader had told him regarding antichrist vexed
Alfred.

Howard, that bastard!
he thought.

While he waited to be connected with Peretz
Scheffer, acting director of Mossad, he once again felt his human
frailty. His stomach churned and gurgled. The antacid meds remained
open on his desk. Demsky quickly popped another into his mouth and
dry swallowed. It didn
’
t go down as easily
as he would have liked, causing him to wince. Suddenly a new voice
filled his office.

“My deepest apologies, Peretz Scheffer is
currently away from his post on assignment. Would you like to speak
to the department head of the Kidon branch?
”

Demsky
’
s stomach
dropped. Kidon?

(Mossad
’
s tip of
the spear.) In his mind, if he couldn
’
t
get the director, the head of Kidon would more than suffice.

“Mr. Demsky?
”

He finally answered, apologizing first.

“Yeah, sorry--that would be excellent.

Put him on, if you would.
”

“Please hold.
”

A little while later a man
’
s voice with a heavy Hebrew accent answered,
“
Malach Kemper, Kidon division. What can I
do for you today Mr. Demsky?
”

“A lot, hopefully,
”
Alfred quickly replied, feeling grateful to be talking with someone
powerful in the Mossad hierarchy.

The man whom identified himself as Kemper
went out on a limb with his best guess on the reason for the phone
call.
“
Maybe a little agency collaboration
on a priority target perhaps?
”

“We
’
ll get to
that,
”
he said thinking of Howard with his
last words.
“
But first I would like to
dialogue with you on your friendly Middle-Eastern
neighbors.
”

“Oh? The Saudis?
Jordanians....Iranians?
”

“Why do you still refer to them by their
previous nationalities and not the United Islamic
Caliphate?
”

Demsky could almost hear the man smile over
the phone at this.

“You see Alfred, they are not united under
King Kahlil. Until their Promised One Imam al Mahdi comes riding in
on his white stallion, those blood-thirsty Arabs will not cooperate
with each other. Their interests are too divided currently. They
need a leader like none other who can bind them together into a
single people group with one purpose in mind.
”

Alfred fiddled with a lever on his chair
which enabled it to recline. Once his seat went back his gaze
naturally wandered to the black ceiling up above.

“Which is partly what I wanted to talk with
you about.
”

“You have my attention.
”

“From my last conversation I had with Prime
Minister Elkin he took me down a trail of interesting
possibilities.
”

“Go on,
”
the
monotone voice on the other end encouraged him.
“
What I am about to share with you is very sensitive
information. Are you absolutely positive this line is
secure?
”
“
God
won
’
t even hear what we say.
”
Alfred liked his answer.
“
Our security forces recently clashed with Scorpion
and unknown bogies over Sector Six at the Westover Ventures
Complex.
”
Malach Kemper
’
s breathing grew a little quicker.
“
What happened there?
”

“Operation Switchblade: an asset recovery
mission at zero hour. Damion Westover had a contract with our
government on some breakthrough weapon designs.
”
“
You mind elaborating on
the scale of this operation?
”

When there was pause in Alfred
’
s reply, Malach quickly explained,
“
I’
m trying to ascertain why
you had to go in there as opposed to the weapon blueprints being
delivered to you per your contractual agreement with Westover
Ventures.
”
Alfred nodded with
understanding and answered,
“
The
venture
’
s business partners, Damion
Westover and his chief scientist

Christophe Gerard have gone MIA. Sentinel
used landsat to track their whereabouts to a top-secret Scorpion
black site in the Ozarks. We believe Scorpion to be holding them
there against their own will for a whole litany of
reasons
—
which is partly why I
’
m contacting you.
”

Malach Kemper spread his hands out across
his glass workstation. In response a virtual keyboard mapped out
for him. His wiry fingers rapidly typed a message into a search
field. He quickly made up his mind he wanted the results to
materialize on the heads up display nearby.

“Mr. Demsky,
”
Malach resumed the conversation as he took in the data at the same
time,
“
I have in front of me a transcript
from an Intel dump which I think dovetails nicely with the subject
we
’
re on.
”
“
Okay?
”

“Four days ago one of our agents stationed
in Barcelona interrogated two midlevel German diplomats who were in
town with Germany
’
s Interior Minister
Sofia Keller and the rest of her entourage.
”
“
Uh-huh
…”

“The significance of that being these
Germans tipped us off to some plans the

Fourth Reich and Scorpion have in the works.
But it
’
s really much bigger than those two
players. As powerful as they (Scorpion and Germany) may be, they
don
’
t hold ALL the cards. We
’
re talking worldwide implications.
”

Alfred was beyond intrigued now. His mind
worked fast to recall previous conversations with various people to
frame his next question. Alfred had Israel
’
s president to thank for getting himself at least on
the right footing. If only Malach Kemper could give him further
direction and increased insight into the enemy
’
s plans
…
then Alfred would be
a hero to the FRN, but more importantly an indispensable member on
Alexander
’
s National Security Council.

In a word? Job security. That
’
s what this was about.

“Malach, correct me if I
’
m wrong; I assume you have ongoing ops within the
UIC? Yes?
”

“In a manner of speaking.
”

This didn
’
t
surprise Alfred. He grew even bolder.
“
Is
there anything in your reports that would indicate a Scorpion
connection with King Kahlil himself?
”
The
silence was deafening.

Thanks for confirming what
I
’
ve known all along, bitch,
Demsky triumphantly thought.

Kemper came back with a copout.

“Implicating the king to underworld scum
(Scorpion) is beyond insane. It
’
s entirely
out of the question.
”

Kidon
’
s director
seemed unusually adamant in denying any Scorpion/UIC association
Demsky noted. He would continue to exploit this weakness then and
see what nuggets he could bag by the end of the transaction.

--

Tel Aviv, Israel

The elevator doors to the lobby on the
thirty-ninth floor opened with the same sense of urgency as the
passengers that once occupied it. The trio from the roof made haste
through the labyrinth of sterile passageways to the other end of
the floor.

Along the way Stacy used sign language to
communicate to Esther she was free to go. To where? A sector in the
tower where young cadets trained in, ran missions from
—
the whole gamut.

Esther simply split from her step-mom who
still had Azriel in tow. She hung a few hairpin turns then simply
vanished off into a land very few knew existed.

Meanwhile Stacy faced what would come,
alone
…
with the boy. Her choice. For
paternal reasons she wanted to do some hand-holding with Azriel
while the boy
’
s mind and consequently his
destiny would be altered by modern science.

“You
’
re gonna do
just fine, son,
”
she said in a soothing
manner as they approached an operating room. She also had an
implant in her wrist that radiated a signal the door recognized. It
compliantly swung open for her before she was even ten feet from
crossing its threshold.

A gigantic white machine Azriel had never
seen the likes of before unhinged its jaw like a snake, ready to
swallow his limp body
…
whole.

Throughout the whole experience he began to
rapidly lose cognitive ability to decipher what exactly was
happening to himself. The room began to spin a little.
Stacy
’
s face which hovered only a few feet
away he guessed now came in strangely distorted. Things began to
dim, even before the woman entered in her premeditated commands
into the console.

Azriel continued to watch her until he felt
he could no longer win the tug of war battle against
unconsciousness. In his hazy last seconds before the lights went
out he noticed her staring out at him with an unreadable expression
etched into her features. All this time words had evaded him. For
whenever he attempted to ask her a question his tongue refused to
comply. Instead it chose to stay plastered to the roof of his
mouth, unwilling to loosen itself so as to allow speech.

His struggle against the impending darkness
that closed in from his peripherals soon came to a close after
Stacy decisively pressed the button to start the procedure.

The doors to the contraption shut with a
finality after Stacy initiated the operation. Up on a monitor a
live feed of Azriel
’
s spiking brain
activity revealed to the inquisitive woman just how exactly a
cerebrum memory transfiguration affected a
thirteen-year-old
’
s gray matter.
Stacy
’
s narrowed brown eyes remained
fixated on the images until a familiar ringtone in her ear
effectively broke her stare.

She blinked and mumbled something. A peek at
her smartwatch which had the caller ID confirmed her hunch.

Stacy immediately threw her weight down
onto a swivel stool equipped with wheels. Next she leaned in
slightly while simultaneously using her powerful legs to careen her
mobile seat over to where a stack of monitors cast their blue glow.
“
How
’
s he doing
so far?
”
the same concerned male voice she
had spoken to earlier on the rooftop intoned in her right ear.
“
If you are so concerned, then why
aren
’
t you here with me now?
”
she asked the obvious.

He clarified,
“
You
know why that can
’
t happen. I just got my
ticket punched as the new acting head of Kidon. There is an
unimaginably long list of responsibilities I must see to. Otherwise
everything I
’
ve worked so hard to do up
until this point will be for naught.
”

Stacy pondered the man
’
s explicit message while she stared at sets of data
on Azriel
’
s progress. What she saw caused
her to forget about her otherwise standard rejoinder to the
man
’
s excuse for not being present.
“
This really is gonna work I
think,
”
the words tumbled off her plump
lips.

“The operation?
”

“Yeah
…”

“What would make you ever doubt it
wouldn
’
t? Azriel isn
’
t the first person it
’
s
ever

been done to you know.
”
“
Really?
”

“Yeah! Relax. I wouldn
’
t do experimental brain surgery on our son unless it
had a proven track record. And to my knowledge,
”
his voice grew more distant as he read something,
“
ninety-nine percent of patients that had
this procedure went back to their everyday lives like nothing ever
happened.
”
“
How
long is the turnaround?
”
Stacy wondered
aloud.

“If everything synchronizes correctly
according to the pre-programmed parameters? Two weeks.
”

His answer shocked Stacy. She marveled at
the progress the medical community had made in Israel. The fact
that someone with the proper equipment and protocols could change
the course of a life in under two weeks overwhelmed the woman.

Seeing is believing though. Until Azriel
walked out of the clinic a whole person and called her mom
she
’
d hold on to her inborn
skepticism.

--

Somewhere near the northeastern German
border
…

The day -long road trip neared the finish
line with its crosshairs set on Berlin. The trio of rough and ready
individuals had only made two stops the entire journey. Towards the
end Baruch began to whine of his rear aching. When Seth threatened
something else would be hurting suddenly the man with a sore bottom
dropped all complaints.