Authors: Michael James Gallagher
“Sue Ann, I have to leave you here. You’ll be
fine,” Thomas said, looking into Sue Ann’s eyes and holding her arms
protectively.
“What? Have you totally lost it? You can’t
walk out on me now.”
“I’m not walking out on you, but I have
something to do,” he replied.
Before he could continue, sirens and
helicopter noise filled the air. IDF Special Forces rappelled onto the lookout
and secured a perimeter. Their coordinated movements were efficient and
swift. Thomas and Sue Ann crouched down among the frightened dignitaries and
journalists. Departing military transport buffeted them. Thomas’ arm reached
around Sue Ann instinctively as they both squinted.
A stroke of luck that I
didn’t leave the scene,
Thomas thought
. It would have made me a
fugitive
.
Now, I can juggle finding Kefira, learning about the suit and
using Al Jazeera resources.
His wildest speculations couldn’t prepare him
for the shock of opening the knob on the watch Kefira gave him.
I won’t let
it happen again. It won’t be like my mother and my sister. I’ll get her back.
Kefira’s instructions not to touch the
watch’s knob until he arrived in a secure location repeated softly but
insistently over the staccato voices of the military personnel. Thomas stifled
his urge to flee while his subconscious mind plotted a strategy. The set of
instructions Kefira had left with him before the Chinese abducted her were so
subtle, so understated, that Thomas believed they were his own.
“Who’s the officer in charge here?” asked
Sue Ann, her press badge extended out in front of her towards an intense young
woman in uniform who was making the rounds of people mostly still lying prone
and in shock.
“The one over there by the stairs, talking
into the radio, but hold off for now-” the soldier said.
“Hold off, my ass. The world needs to know
what happened here – now!” Sue Ann snapped.
Sue Ann grabbed Thomas’s shoulder and
pointed towards the officer in charge. She nodded in the man’s direction,
indicating that Thomas should pan the area and zoom on the officer. She was
rehearsing her questions when Thomas took her elbow.
“The lens broke in the attack. My camera’s
useless. Wait, maybe the audio’s still on. Yes. We have audio,” said Thomas,
professional reactions charging him up.
“Use your-” Sue Ann started, until she
noticed Thomas already busy snapping stills with his phone.
They threaded their way through the people
waking from a nightmare. Before Sue Ann could address the officer using the
radio, two other soldiers stepped between them, passive but immoveable.
“Who were those men? How did they arrive
and leave without transport? Where’ve they taken the Israeli guide?” shouted
Sue Ann.
Thomas pointed his camera and directional
microphone at the officer. Sue Ann’s last question had piqued his interest.
He turned to her and waved the two sentries away. Thomas and Sue Ann walked
closer.
“Turn that off. Off, I said.”
“Leave it on, Thomas. This is
world-shattering news. A group of dignitaries came under attack today,”
replied Sue Ann.
“Cooperate with me and I’ll see what I can
do about getting you a story later. Now turn that camera off before I take it
away.”
The officer reached for the camera and
snapped it out of Thomas’ grasp as the two sentries returned to separate the
journalists and the officer. The officer waved the soldiers off again.
“Take these two to the transport that’s
arriving and keep ’em nearby so I can talk to ’em after,” he said to the two
soldiers.
“You can’t do that,” shouted Sue Ann over
her shoulder as the soldiers ushered both her and Thomas down the stairs.
The officer pocketed Thomas’ camera and
looked over the area. The situation had calmed down, but his actions suggested
that he felt uneasy. There were no apparent injuries and the people now in his
charge seemed unhurt, just confused.
Where’d the ‘perps’ get to?
he
thought.
The soldiers helped dignitaries into
waiting helicopters and the other victims into military ground transport. The executive
officer fiddled with Thomas’ camera as he walked to the armored black Escalade
holding Thomas and Sue Ann. They were locked in the back bucket seats and a
metal screen separated them from the front.
“What’s this about an IDF officer
disappearing?” the officer asked as the driver pulled out in convoy, taking
some of the Special Forces team.
“What about my camera?” Thomas asked.
“First things first,” the officer replied,
turning for the first time to face the two journalists.
Captain Avon hated dealing with the public
and he disliked journalists almost as much as he despised terrorists. His
recent promotion had changed his job. The pay didn’t make up for having to
deal with non-military issues. Tact was not Avon’s
forte.
The effort
of controlling his reactions showed as he ground his teeth.
“The officer,” he repeated acidly.
“We cooperate and it means we get a story,
right?” said Sue Ann.
“Maybe. Now tell me about the officer,”
replied Avon.
Thomas spoke up first.
“She wasn’t wearing a uniform. I just knew
instinctively that she was military.”
Captain Avon turned his gaze back to the
road and cursed under his breath. A terse expletive phrase borrowed from
Arabic. His index finger played between his front teeth before he spoke.
“So this person appeared to be military to
you, but she was not in uniform?”
“In this business your nose gets pretty
good and the military stinks a certain way,” Sue Ann rejoined, provoking an
angry look from Avon.
Thomas touched Sue Ann’s leg to get her to
lighten up, but she continued.
“Anyway, this spy or whatever she was.
They were after her. The Chinese fell on her and ignored everyone else,” she
stated. She waited for the response.
“Really. And this is the story you want to
report?” Avon asked, sighing deeply.
“When do I get my camera back?” demanded
Thomas.
“When you hand over that memory stick, I’ll
think about it.”
“There’s copyrighted transmissions on it.
I’ll need a written promise from your superior before I instruct him to hand it
over,” said Sue Ann. She surprised Thomas with this sudden and apparent change
of heart.
“Give it to him, Thomas.”
Thomas reached into his sock. He always
stashed his memory sticks there when situations got out of control. He held
the device up, but just as he was about to put it in the small tray which
communicated with the front seat, Sue Ann grabbed it.
“The only reason you’re getting this is
that we got those Chinese guys in the suits taking the officer on it. They
appeared briefly before disappearing again. But you can bet your ass I want
something in return or I destroy it right now,” said Sue Ann.
She held a Bic lighter in her hand and the
flame just touched the bottom of the memory card. An acrid smell of melting
plastic filled the car.
“Ok. Ok. You get the story when it’s
released.”
“Write it down and sign it with your name,
rank and serial number or I burn the evidence,” said Sue Ann.
Avon willed himself to remain calm. He was
wondering how he let this scum trap him.
If I don’t get the evidence, my
ass’s in a sling
, he thought. Carefully he wrote his name, rank and serial
number under the authorization and passed the paper through the slot in the
mesh between the seats.
“Now let me see your dog tag,” demanded Sue
Ann.
Avon’s anger showed only in a momentary
flush in his cheeks as he twisted his neck and placed his tag against the mesh
so Sue Ann could read it. Sue Ann closed the lighter. He was indeed Captain
Avon and the seven digit number agreed.
“Here you go, now take us to our hotel and
replace the camera that you broke when you snatched it out of our hands,” added
Sue Ann, as she dropped the memory stick into the slot where she had retrieved
the note of agreement.
The Captain placed the memory stick in a
pocket under his flak jacket and closed the button.
At least I got the
evidence
, he thought.
“What hotel?”
“It’s on Dizengoff,” said Sue Ann, as she
fiddled with her phone. “89 Dizengoff.”
“I know where it is,” said Avon, speaking
every word as though he were talking to someone senile.
The rest of the ninety-kilometer drive
passed in silence. Sue Ann texted the content of the agreement in principle
between her and Captain Avon and included a photo of the text. Her editor
texted back to forward Thomas’ stills and told her to get on the story so he
could break it before the evening news in America. His last words
congratulated Thomas for his stills and gave them instructions where to buy a
new camera.
Adrenaline gone, Thomas and Sue Ann felt
let down as Avon opened Sue Ann’s door. The busy thoroughfare and lush side
streets, filled with flowers and greenery, brought them back to reality.
“Don’t go anywhere today. We may need to
contact you,” said Avon.
“What? An’ miss my scoop?” Sue Ann
retorted.
“You know what I mean,” replied Avon.
Thomas touched Sue Ann’s elbow to remind
her they were on tenuous ground here. She turned to him: “Grow some balls,
Thomas.”
“I’ve had it, Sue Ann. I need a shower an’
some sleep. Give it a fuckin’ break, will ya?”
I need to get away and use the suit. In
a kidnapping it's the first day that's the most important. This time I'm gonna
do the right thing, thought Thomas.
Avon gave a coarse laugh at Sue Ann’s
predicament and returned to his vehicle. He knew where he had to go. He had
recognized the description of the female officer, the one with the ‘military’
appearance. In the briefing before he left for Mount Carmel, his superior
ordered him to liaise with a woman answering to the description given by Thomas
and Sue Ann - and now the Chinese had her.
Why would they kidnap a Mossad
agent?
thought Avon. His driver cleared his throat.
Avon disliked communicating outside the
line of command but his superior instructed him to pass all information to a
number at the spy agency. When he gave his entry code, they told him to
proceed to an address in Haifa at once.
“Get that memory stick here or your ass is
grass,” said the voice on the other end. Avon’s driver cleared his throat
again.
“Make sure someone stays here to keep an
eye on the journalists and get us to Haifa, the Mossad, on the double. Here’s
the address,” Avon snapped.
While they drove, the driver ordered a unit
of two officers to remain behind and report any movement by the journalists.
He also suggested one of them should cover the back entrance to the hotel.
Avon’s apprehensions grew when he saw the
nondescript apartment building on Yona Street in the old city of Haifa. His
vehicle couldn’t double park and the driver pulled into a parking lot
adjacently opposite his destination. Captain Avon made quite a spectacle
entering a women’s hair salon in his full military gear.
The women seated around reading magazines
didn’t bat an eye as a door opened at the back of the establishment. A
stunning older woman with green eyes and careworn but amber skin approached
him. She gestured with her left hand to a young woman cutting another’s hair
and the young woman jumped to attention and ran out the door. Her goal: Avon’s
transport. The young woman produced an identity card and placed it against the
driver’s side window of Avon’s Escalade. The driver opened his window a crack.
“You’re to return to base. Captain Avon
will be detained for some time. He will contact you.”
“But-” said the driver to the young agent’s
back.
After she took the memory chip from him, the
woman walked behind Captain Avon and he could feel her sizing him up, but she
smelled so refreshing that he didn’t care. She passed close to him to open the
door to a room that assaulted his nostrils. Avon turned to look at her. She
looked familiar, then he got it. She’s an older version of the one who
disappeared.
“In here?” he said.
“We need to have a talk,” the woman
replied, her green eyes never leaving Avon’s.
He hesitated, then he heard a man’s voice
from inside the interrogation room.
“Don’t go there,” said the voice.
Avon sighed, turned and walked by the
woman. Stale cigarette smoke mixed with the unmistakeable smell of urine in
the room depressed him. He remained standing beside the table with two
chairs.
Keep positive,
he thought.
“Who’re we expecting?” asked Avon.
The woman just laughed, but she seemed
disposed to him and he felt relieved as a result.
“Have a seat Captain Avon.”
He sat down and she offered him a vile
smelling cigarette.
“You must’ve looked at my file. You know I
don’t use those things.”
“Don’t smoke it. Just burn it. It’ll
cover up the stink of piss in here and I can’t stand holding them. Would you
do that for me?”
Relief flushed over Avon.
I’m not under
suspicion.
The woman looked at the glass wall and made a cutting motion
under her chin with her left hand. Avon knew that the watchers had just turned
off the video feed, maybe even the audio too.
“We are looking at the chip you gave us
now. I need to know anything you might be able to add from the scene,” the
woman said.
“Best if you ask me direct questions. It
was all over when we got there.”
“Ok. There’s some confusion about the lead
chopper. We need the nose feed.”
“Use my phone. Dial Star 61 and it’ll
connect you to the mechanic in charge of spooling feeds upon arrival,” replied
Avon.
The woman left the room and handed Avon’s
phone to someone waiting just outside the door. A second woman returned with
the first. Avon looked at the two of them and jumped to attention when he
recognized the second woman.
That one’s right up there in Mossad,
he
thought, trying to remember the Special Forces briefing years ago that she had
attended. He remembered her because she had an ugly face but lovely eyes and
the incongruence made her appealing.
“At ease, Captain. We just need any
information you may have, and fast. In any kidnapping, it is the first
forty-eight hours that matter. Try to remember things out of place. Was
anyone suspicious looking?” asked the second woman.
“That cameraman. There was something off
about him. The woman I recognized from Al Jazeera reports, but the camera guy,
well, I dunno. He was too careful. Like he was hiding something, but maybe it
was just the memory I took from him in the transport,” replied Avon.
“Do you think the nose camera got a clear
shot of him?” asked the two women together.
These women are involved personally in
this,
he thought.
“I ordered a video sweep to do just that.
I’m sure we got everyone. Just not positive we got all the faces. Anyway, I
dropped the reporters off at their hotel and I left a unit there just to be
sure. We can get ‘em. No problem.”
“We’re gonna look at that film ourselves,
Captain. Please wait here. We’ll be back shortly. You want coffee or
something?” asked the first woman.
“Water, please.”
Yochana, recently called back from an
imposed early retirement, caught the reflection of her large nose in the glass
of the two way mirror in the room adjacent to the one holding the captain. She
noticed the tension in her oldest friend’s posture, her shoulders rising up and
her teeth gripped tight. A young man, dressed in baggy clothes and a coffee
stained t-shirt, ushered the women into two chairs. He opened his palms
outwards and slid his hands in the air and a holographic image of the rooftop
lookout at Mount Carmel appeared in the room.
“They have holographic video in the nose
hubs of helicopters now?” asked Ekaterina, her poise returning despite her
anxiety as a mother.
“Nah,” said the blasé but brilliant young
man as he spilled yet another slosh of coffee on himself. “I ran it through a
little thing I made. You pick up more this way, believe me,” he added.
“Now I believe them when they say you’re
the best.”
“Kind words, coming from you. Your
reputation-”
“You overstep yourself. What am I seeing
here, young man?” asked Ekaterina.
“I’m going to pause here for comment,” he
said with a sweep of his arm. “Look at that purple halo, there. That’s your
agent,” said the technician.
The large observation room filled with
human shapes and a hazy aura surrounded one of them. Ekaterina and Yochana had
seen this holographic technology before but it never failed to impress them.
“Now, watch what happens here. I am going
to slowly dial through the next few scenes. Look. Come here with me. Get on
the other side of your agent. You’re seeing what she sees now.”
“Lord. That line of darkness up there?”
asked Ekaterina.
“Nanofog. I’ve never seen anything like
it. Ok, I’ve seen hints of it but nothing like this. I am going to go slowly
through the next part too. Remember my software recreated this from the nose
camera as it approached. It happened fast, only about five frames.”
“It looks like she just noticed the
approaching fog,” said Yochana.
“What’s she doing there?” asked both
Yochana and Ekaterina at once.
As they watched, Kefira adjusted the knob
on her watch in one quick movement and the halo around her disappeared. Then
she removed her watch and passed it to the young man beside her. Just as he
took it, an opaque discoloration covered Kefira and swallowed her up. The
shape around her disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Bright lights and
sounds consistent with stun grenades accompanied the fog and Kefira’s
disappearance. Yochana leapt out of her seat and ran to the room holding the
captain.
“Contact your unit at the hotel. We need
to detain that cameraman, now. Call the unit, damn it,” she yelled at the
captain.
“I gave the other official my phone. It’s
Star 82 to talk to the unit.”
Yochana ran back to the observation room.
The holograph video filled the air. Her adoptive daughter, Kefira, had
disappeared. Somehow the Chinese sent a patrol inside nanofog to catch her.
They
must be able to see our fog. That’s how they knew where she was,
thought
Yochana. She took the phone from the table in front of her, near the computer,
and she ran back to give it to the captain.
“Call your unit, now. Detain that
cameraman. And good work, Captain.”
Avon spoke into his phone and the two IDF
officers on the other end sprinted up the stairs to rooms 15 and 16. They
breached the doors simultaneously, weapons out in front of them. Sue Ann stood
wrapped in a towel, talking on her phone and looking out a large picture
window. She started shouting when the Taser hit and she fell to the ground.
The other officer was not so lucky. He couldn’t find anyone in Thomas’ room.
Fuck,
how’d he get out of here?
thought the young soldier as he spoke into his
shoulder mike. It was networked to the captain’s phone and the corporal knew
his captain. A sarcastic remark from him now would mean he was busted back to
private.
“The cameraman’s not here, Sir. He must’ve
gone out the back entrance.”
“Your orders were to split up. Was it more
convenient for you to sit together in front of the hotel, Private?”
“Sir.”
“Hold the reporter.”
Thomas had been playing with Kefira’s nanosuit
for almost an hour before his newly developed telekinetic senses felt a threat
moving up the stairs towards him. While looking in the mirror, one of the
first skills he had learned to use in Kefira’s suit was becoming invisible.
I
can will myself to do things,
he thought as he disappeared. When the
watchers rushed up the stairs, his suit warned him of danger approaching him.
In an instant he floated up to the ceiling in the far corner of the room and
watched the young solder search for him. Thomas wasn’t yet sure if
invisibility went as far as intangibility. After the soldier spoke to his
superior and left the room, he returned to the ground and sat on the bed.
The soldier didn't see me. I can’t believe it. I’m
stepping off that treadmill here. I can’t die like my father and the suit’ll make
it possible, but what if I fuck up? Maybe mother was right, better to move
on. No, I have to find Kefira. I can still sense her presence. Somehow this
suit’ll help me get to her. She’s out there. I know it, but where?