Tsunami Connection (4 page)

February 12,
2012

"Hey, you there, Zak? I really
don't recognize you. We have to move forward here," urged Sarah, as she
looked from Zak to Kefira and back to Zak on the balcony in Redditch.

"Life is sometimes a harsh mistress," said Zak,
snapping out of his keenly felt revelations.

"Bro' I've never seen you like this. While you were off
there in la-la land, the Colonel and I made a pact," said Sarah, as the
three of them stepped back into the billiard room.

"So, it was you that day, taking to Sam when I gave the
Capoeira demo. We have a lot in common I think," said Kefira, taking a
deep breath and removing the photos that Sam had given her from her purse.

"Get ready … I have a surprise to drop on you. Here we
go. Yochana raised me and Sam brought you up. Both of us were adopted after our
parents had been killed in tragic accidents, bombings," she added.

"Whoa. You mean you're my half sister," said Zak.

"Only insofar as that Sam and Yochana were looking out
for both of us, each of them responsible for one of us. I just found out about
how Sam was like a father to me without ever making himself apparent in person.
It was the same for you, only it was Yochana that was the absent parent,"
added Kefira.

"It really is too much, sometimes, anyway. Let me see
those pictures. Funny, I thought I knew you from when I was a kid. It's just
that so much has happened in between," said Zak.

"We were in the kibbutz together, but they kept us
apart from each other most of the time. Did you know that we have been
competing within the context of the 'Vanguard'?" said Kefira.

"What about?" asked Zak.

"Pretend you never heard this, Sarah, okay? We were
both struggling to become the spear," said Kefira.

"Jesus, I always knew that Sam had ambitions for me,
but I never knew it went that far," said Zak.

"It gets better. I am the spear, while your disposition
and preparation makes you more inclined to move into the administrative role of
Mossad command that should rightfully be my legacy as the holder of the
spear," said Kefira.

"Now I remember one of the times we met," said
Zak.

"Yes, I know. The day they showed us the spear,"
said Kefira.

"Hey, you two, let's get back to reality. Enough fairy
tales," interrupted Sarah.

"Ok. Ok. Let's just get one thing clear: chain of
command. I am the ranking officer and you all will listen to my decisions, like
it or not, but I am not a fool. I won't counter any ideas stemming from your
greater field experience. When you're planning, I'll comment, but your
collective experience gives you the upper hand. I'll play second fiddle unless
I believe you're doing something to jeopardize the overall mission: to catch
MacAuley and close down his operation, but not to close our eyes to other
developments that we come across."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I promise I won't
let my emotions get in the way again. We leave for Edinburgh tomorrow morning
at 5 a.m. sharp, if that's alright with you, Ma'am."

Kefira wondered just what emotions he was talking about, but
she had to be honest. She knew there was some chemistry between Zak and her.
Her career, her clandestine role as a sleeper, her dance school, and life in
general had not left her any time to develop close relationships. It was just
that it always seemed to be 'not the right time
′
.
Success of the mission relegated her personal life to a minor role and demanded
her full attention.

"You can brief me in the morning, Captain, and that's
the last time we use rank. I will get up to speed in the field in time. In the
meantime, your expertise dictates that you take the lead until I extend my
familiarity with the field."

The next day was typical Midlands dreary. Sarah and Aden had
made lunches and the two vehicles left way before their bleary-eyed, none the
wiser, host awoke. Sarah motioned to Kefira as Aden and Amiz took the lead van.
The first van was fully equipped with state-of-the-art surveillance equipment,
including sniffers to uncover and display nearby Wi-Fi networks, scanners for
telephone communications, night vision thermal cameras and directional
microphones for listening through windows from up to a mile away.

"How long's the drive?"

"Basically five and a half hours on the M6 from
Birmingham to Edinburgh. In the city, we will have to set up some surveillance
just to be sure of our status with Amir, who now calls himself Tony. He's using
an identity that Mossad gave him as an Italian born journeyman electrician
working in Scotland on a European Union contract. It was difficult to set up,
but his info gave us the lead on several members of Hezbollah responsible for
Katyusha rockets going nightly into Israel."

The van turned at the third exit after a roundabout on the
A38 and merged onto the M5. Kefira opened the laptop that was sitting on the
mini-table between the front swivel bucket seats. She asked Sarah where the
briefing was.

"There's something more interesting. Look at the link
in the favorites under Aceh Province Tsunami."

"What's the connection? I don't have time for distractions
now."

"Just take my word for it and open that video."

"This is heartrending. Where did you get these videos?
I've never seen anything like it."

"They're not really videos. They're streaming pred
porn."

Kefira asked what pred porn was. Her new partner explained,
in detail, how the war on terror was using MQ-1 Predators and MQ-9 Reapers,
large hunter-killer, unmanned aerial vehicles to seek out and destroy bad guys
with no loss of American life. She went on to explain that these birds took
real-time, streaming video and fed it back to Washington or Nevada.

"Aceh's a hotbed of mujahedeen instruction, but no one
seems to be able to locate any training camps there. Stop the feed.
There," Sarah said, pointing to the screen, forgetting her driving skills for
an instant and then having to brake hard, down shift and swerve into the
passing lane.

"Whoa, girl … keep your eyes on the road. Wait! That's
an armed man. What's he doing in the 'boonies' in Aceh with an AK-47, and what
is he coming out of?"

"As far as we can tell, it is some kind of underground
bunker. They must be doing at least some of their training underground. It's
spooky that the bad guys 've been so organized in Indonesia since way back then
in 2004," said Sarah.

"That's sovereign territory. What was the Predator
doing there? How did they get permission to go in there?"

"That's another mystery. How did America know to launch
a drone just the day when the tsunami struck?"

"Coincidences, coincidences,″ she said and added:
″I don't trust coincidences. We're unraveling something bigger here than
the murder of my team. We have to follow up these leads, too. MacAuley is mixed
up in everything bad that's going on in the world."

"How did Zak get this?"

"He has someone at CIA. They are old friends."

"How old are those feeds?″

"Looks like they are old, probably from the Boxing Day
Tsunami in 2004."

"Why am I looking at eight-year-old feeds?"

"Zak has his connection busy looking for your friend
MacAuley. They have automatic face recognition. Your guy is in the queue. If
they see him anywhere that they operate, we'll get a heads up."

"Is this secure in the vehicle like this?" asked
Kefira.

"We are on ultra-secure Israeli satellite in our
special encryption module," said Sarah.

"How often have I heard that before?" asked
Kefira.

"Aden knows what he is doing and Zak has the highest
priority on the satellite. Now, get this house address up on Google – 15
Stenhouse Avenue West, Edinburgh, Scotland, United Kingdom. That's where Amir,
aka Tony, lives," said Sarah.

"He's in some kind of Witness Protection Program, isn't
he?" asked Kefira.

"You got it. It'd be hard to hide him in Israel, so we
cooperate with the Brits on this one. After all, he did give us critical info
that stopped a cell of Pakistani first-generation immigrant radicals in a
little known plot to suicide bomb the London Symphony on opening night last
year," said Sarah.

"I've got the map up. I'm just changing to street view.
Your connection sure is fast. Ok. It's an ordinary looking place, but great for
surveillance," said Kefira.

"Zak's already set up the system we'll be using. You
might want to send him an email and get a copy of our schedules," said
Sarah.

"I'll do that."

"Just click on the 'Z' on the favorites bar. It'll
connect you up to the secure mail server. It's dedicated to Zak only."

The email came back with detailed satellite photos and a
meticulous schedule of action. To Kefira's eye, everything seemed more than
organized. She decided to catch some shuteye while they were on the motorway.
She spun around in her bucket seat and moved onto the fold out couch near the
backup surveillance set up. After what seemed like one minute of sleep,
familiar chords of music drifted into Kefira's consciousness.

"Edinburgh, here we are," said Sarah.

"Wow. I was out cold. Where'd you get that music? It's
among my favorites."

"We aim to please."

"No, really," added Kefira.

"Zak did some research of your performances and thought
you might like to have a collection of your favorite music."

"That's a bit overboard, don't you think?"
commented Kefira.

"Jesus, girl, I've been trying to get him to do things
like that for me for years. What is that perfume you're using? It even stirs me
up."

"Are you serious?"

"Never more."

"I lived in the Berber area of the desert in Libya. The
women there are dedicated to their men. They oil themselves down while they
wait for them," said Kefira.

"No wonder Zak's interested. Don't tell me you oil
yourself with spices every day."

"Not every day. Just when I need to focus – I meditate
while I do it. It centers me."

"What are the spices?"

"Cardamom, cinnamon and clove in warmed oil."

"You're some piece of work, girl."

The drive into Edinburgh was without incident. The two vans
established surveillance according to Zak's plan, and then the waiting began.
After a short while, Kefira and Sarah looked at each other.

"What's that hissing sound?" asked Kefira.

"I'm not sure," said Sarah.

"Let's point one of those directional mics at the other
window in the bathroom," ordered Kefira.

"I got it. He's having a shower."

"Great. He's in. We should be able to move in just
after dark then. Your first stakeout will be a breeze. Usually it takes days
before it breaks."

"Beginner's luck."

Sarah was emailing Zak when her headphone filled with a loud
noise. It sounded as though a large object had slid down and then another
object had snapped. Zak used video conferencing software to communicate with
the vehicle containing Sarah and Kefira.

"Aden and Sarah are going in. You and I, Kefira, will
follow along after five minutes. Sarah, get those lock picking fingers of yours
limbered up."

Aden left the first van by the passenger side front door. A
car almost hit him as he exited. He had forgotten about left-side driving in
Great Britain. He cursed under his breath because Zak had parked facing
oncoming traffic. Aden then walked along Stenhouse West as it turned into a
dead-end street. Sarah exited the driver's side of her van onto the sidewalk.
She linked arms with Aden and they laughed like the old friends they were.

"Tsk, tsk. I saw that car almost kill you there, in my
mirror. Wonderful tradecraft. How long have you been doing this?"

"Left-side driving!"

Together they crossed the no-through road and made their way
on the left side into number 15. The pastel brown stucco outer walls, framed
with stained softwood borders, gave way to an unusual cooking odor. It smelled
of lye soap and cabbage in the stairwell. Sarah took the stairs, two at a time,
up to the second floor while Aden kept his ears and eyes peeled. No one seemed
to take any notice of the happy couple.

Mrs. Burns, however, on the first floor, had seen them
coming, as she sat in the dark, looking at activity on the street. She knew
they were foreigners by the way the young man had had a near miss getting out
of his vehicle. "That foreigner parked against the flow," Mrs. Burns
said aloud to no one in particular as she moved away from the window in her
wheel chair.

"Who else could they be visiting but the Italian,"
added Mrs. Burns, the 'I' pronounced like 'eye'.

The elderly woman continued her monologue, her wheel chair
swiveled about as her window curtain fell back into place.

"Time for a nice spot a tea. He'll 'of been tidying up
before his guests arrive. So that was the noise I heard," continued Mrs.
Burns.

Sarah made fast work of the lock. It was a standard device.
Despite his clandestine existence, Tony knew better than to have too many locks
on his door. People around here were as honest as the day is long.
Smart,
thought Sarah,
a fancy lock would have set him apart.
The lock responded
to her work and opened. Just after Sarah sprung the lock, she rang the bell,
lending credibility to their arrival. Aden joined her and they said loud
'hellos' as they executed their Weaver stances and then searched the home.
Training kept them covering each other as they moved towards the noise in the
bathroom. Their Berettas, stretched out in front of them, nosed into each room.
Sarah called the codeword 'Eilat' out softly so that Tony would know he was
among friends, to no avail.

When Sarah opened the bathroom door, her eyes took in the
torn plastic shower curtain laying half in and half out of the tub. The shower
was running, but the stopper was out. Tony looked like a fully-dressed stroke
victim that had died in the tub with a torn bed sheet around his neck.