Broken Lands Page 4
The Technion, Israel’s equivalent of MIT, grabbed him up as soon as they became aware of his achievements, which began as far back as his days in the third grade. Erez scored the highest grades ever recorded for the University Entry Exams. Consequently, he was not only accepted to the university, but received a scholarship for his studies toward a BA. Various professors of science, math and medicine embraced his concepts. He completed all of his prerequisites and major credits during his second year at university, which paved his way to his master’s degree in Electronic Engineering and Computer Sciences. At the age of 18, as part of his tour of duty in the army, he was recruited as a member of the technical staff of IsraEyes, the friendly name for Israel’s top surveillance operations and air control center. Most recruits had to go through basic training, but with Erez’s qualifications, it was obvious that he could serve his country more efficiently by screening and initiating new recruits in the IsraEyes division. The government had implemented many of his newly developed technological achievements, one of which had been the superimposed laser-detonator device guided by a satellite’s main scanners. His knowledge in access protocols gave the national defense an incredible lead in retaliatory-weapons systems and first-alert technologies against cyber-attacks.
Udi knew that no matter where he might be at any given time, Erez Harrari and the IsraEyes system at his command would be there above him, simultaneously watching his every move and guarding him, by using a three-dimensional scanning map, with an accuracy range of two meters.
Sarah stretched her leg under the table and bumped the point of her shoe into Udi’s ankle. She was annoyed by his focus on those around him, especially the two glamorous women that were seated with Erez Harrari. “Udi. Hellohhhhhh!!! Look at me. This is my night. I want you to focus your attention on me. If you are developing an appetite, let us look at the menu and do not forget the dessert you are getting once we get back to our apartment. You might be out of my sights for quite some time.” Sarah raised her brow, expecting a response that would appease her, and knew that she was about to get it.
“Darling, I was just looking at one of my co-workers,” said Uzi. “You are being silly as usual. In any case, I am sorry if you are sensitive about my points of concentration. You are my woman, I love you, and I want you to be happy, just as you have always been. I am going to make you feel so loved tonight that you’ll feel as if you were walking on the moon.”
His eyes, animated with a lust-filled gaze, centered on her face as he reached over the table and caressed her hand. Udi’s blood flowed quickly as he imagined their bodies coming together in an embrace of passion. Sarah knew that Udi was excited and could sense his anticipation by the warmth of his touch.
“Let’s order, darling,” she said with a smile.
“What I have in mind isn’t on the menu, but I wouldn’t mind having it right here and now,” Udi responded. As usual, they teased each other with sexual nuances. Sarah, blushing, was quite pleased to hear such erotic declarations of passion. Poetry, she thought, could have been just as great, but there is nothing comparable to a good-old-fashioned lusty gaze over a table during a romantic dinner.
They enjoyed their meal, savoring every bite from the well-prepared signature dishes that were the major reason for the success of the restaurant. “You’re making my mouth water watching you dipping the Italian bread into that sauce.” Sarah said delightedly. In response, Udi reached across the table and slowly approached her mouth with a slice of the bread with a touch of sauce. “Thank you darling. I love you,” she uttered softly.
“That’s delicious, that was the best vegetable gratin I have ever eaten,” remarked Sarah as she crossed her cutlery on the Villeroy & Boch-Paloma Picasso limited edition dinnerware. Her plate was so clean of food that one would have thought that there hadn’t been any food on it at all. “It was a delight watching you eat that dish,” commented Udi, “that I wish I had ordered the same.”
“You always have to have your meat, but there’s always a next time,” Sarah said lightheartedly.
As positive as ‘there’s always a next time’ might have sounded, Sarah was agonized, worrying about the possibility of losing the man she loved. Such thoughts haunted her all the time, especially when they spent time together just before Udi would leave on a mission. Being fully aware of how important his work was for him and his nation, seeing him sitting in front of her, so vibrantly real, she did her best to hide her emotions, not allowing them to turn into panic. Life was truly too short to waste on bickering and tormenting oneself with negative thoughts, so Sarah did the best she could to make the most of their encounters.
“Sarah, you must taste this Italian cheesecake.” She took a small cut of the cake as her eyes widened, “Now this is an incredible culinary experience.” Udi offered her some more, but she shook her head.
“Thank you darling, but I’m full. Wasn’t I supposed to be your dessert?” she said jestingly. “Let’s just have some coffee, and then take a stroll on the boardwalk. There’s a full moon out tonight.” There was a glimmer in her eyes as she spoke to Udi. “You know how much I love to watch the reflecting streaks of its glow, glistening on the waves.”
They drank their espressos and paid the check, leaving a hefty tip. On the way out, unnoticeable to all, Udi glanced at Erez, stating a clearly defined farewell by winking and raising his brow; Erez reciprocated the action. They were aware that the results of their coordinated projects over the next few months were going to be pivotal elements of importance the nation’s security.
Back at their apartment, Udi walked into the bedroom after he showered. Sarah was already in bed; she was wearing a very revealing dark red negligee, decorated elegantly with eyelets and web patterns. She had set the light dimmer to a sultry hue which created the setting for their romantic interlude. Udi was a great navigator, and she was quite ready to let him charter her body. Udi looked at Sarah’s adoring eyes, reached into her loving soul and caressed her with the usual flair of ardent adoration. When they made love, it was sensually orchestrated with crescendos of passionate, lustful energy, and this night it was even more intense.
The overall situation around the world was not good; there had been many deaths on both the Israeli and the Palestinian sides. Udi knew how dangerous his next mission was going to be, yet, through all the emotionally charged overtures of worry or latent anxiety that lay in his mind, he managed to make that evening a special one for both of them. He always lived his life as if a day was a lifetime and a month was an eternity. Making the best of his time was one of his fortes, both in and out of work. His life’s motto was: Day by day, with a blessing for a new way; love your wife and enjoy every second of your life.
The next morning, Udi and Sarah went out for breakfast at Coco’s Espresso Bar located near Pinchas Street. The overwhelming aromas of some of the best coffees in the world engulfed the venue, which served natural foods and a wide array of chocolates and offered an incomparable selection of the most delectable European and Middle Eastern pastries. The pastries were deliciously addictive; enough to make any dessert lovers’ dreams come true. Udi savored the feeling of what being home meant. They enjoyed their first bites of the morning. Sarah gathered her thoughts, sipping her coffee, watching the people pass by the cafe. Food was something that always seemed to take us into a calm realm, sedating us and swaying our negative thoughts, she thought.
“I wish you wouldn’t be leaving me today. I hate these days. It’s hard to sit here every morning without you,” she looked at Udi pensively, as tears formed tiny lakes in her eyes. “Life sucks without you around, Udi. When you are in town, I feel secure and I don’t think about the harshness of the present situation. When there is a bombing or some terrorist penetration of some kind, I feel safe when you are near. But it’s quite the contrary when you’re away, doing your thing; when I can’t hug you or look into your soothing eyes.”
She was gasping for air a
s more tears began rolling down her cheeks. Udi hugged her and kissed her forehead, rubbing his warm hands against the base of her neck. He then kissed her passionately, holding her head closely to his, forehead to forehead, and looked deeply into her eyes. “Sweetheart, I know what you are going through. I can feel it in my heart. In any case, I love you and won’t put you out of my mind for a moment,” he murmured. She could not hold back her tears and fell into his arms with a big hug, resting her right cheek on his chest. These were hard moments for anyone.
The following day, I met Udi, Yaniv and Erez at the Organization’s main operations wing for a short briefing. While they passed through the corridor at Mission Control, they glanced into Surveillance Quad V, and as usual, the monitors and scanners were flickering as the computers shifted from one program application to another in a bedazzling frequency that only specially trained agents and operators could possibly comprehend. They entered Quad III and checked the plans that I had presented during the meeting in Aqaba. The Quads in all the areas in the building were fully secure with no means of monitoring from the outside or linking by standard communication devices. Any communication was done by internal cable connection.
Erez had all the necessary documentation for our mission and proceeded to display the major elements on the operation simulator; a program he’d developed which specifically laid out the mission sequences with conditional options and logical expressions demonstrated in an animated format. It presented the total picture of the situations and scenarios that might have to be dealt with to anyone who was assigned to be on a mission in a specific venue, including the alternate procedures for working in the field alongside any auxiliary agents with new protocols. Erez was already seated at his station inputting data for the operations for the day.
“This is going to be one of the most relevant missions that we will ever implement,” I stated, as we walked out, leaving Erez in his preferred, focused environment. “We will change the status quo that has been keeping Palestine’s population in such miserable living conditions. The plan is simple: get hold of the assets; stop the flow of money; distribute the funds to the Palestinian public, ending the rampant corruption that has kept the Palestinian leaders in power. The new political organization will work towards bringing the Israelis and Palestinians together, focusing on a fruitful partnership rooted in peaceful coexistence.
“Had there been a peace-loving leader, most of the problems that we are presently confronting would have been behind us decades ago. Now we must begin the quest and find a special person somewhere from within Inkasar, or any other group with a background that is rooted in having a good rapport with us.”
Meanwhile, Jezabilah was establishing her position as a key member of the Inkasar movement; making all the proper arrangements for the next wave of hits on the ruling members of Hamas and all their supporting factions. The previous day, special Inkasar operatives annihilated an entourage of representatives of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard who were visiting Gaza. Only one of the guards was left alive, and he was released to the Iranian Embassy after his capture. The guard was accompanied by a message stating a stern warning of what was to come should the Iranians not pull out of Palestine. It was now Inkasar’s turn to spread alarm in the hearts of those who for so long had devastated their own people, feeding them false hope.
Outside, it was like any other day in Israel filled with turmoil: There was a suicide bombing near the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem; and in other venues, local Arab youth were casting stones at public buses and soldiers’ vehicles, and at on-duty police officers. Some of them attempted to stab innocent Israelis as they were going about their daily chores of shopping or walking to work. There were daily reports of snipers and automatic gunfire in various venues all over the nation, but mostly in Jerusalem.
Near the Damascus Gate, ambulances, military personnel and media people were everywhere. There were still parts of bodies being removed. The scene was covered with scorched flesh and puddles of blood everywhere one looked. The continuous sounds of sirens from medical and police vehicles resonated above the bedlam like a cluster of discordant musical notes of an atonal symphony. There was mayhem and chaos everywhere. Regardless of the painful emotions that permeated the scene, though, security and medical personnel who had gone through months of training for just these kinds of situations were actively helping the wounded in any way they could; keeping their calm and professionalism as they worked.
Journalist Samuel Westreich from Channel 13 news was on the scene of the suicide bombing attack, interviewing a man whose son was injured. “My son, Fahdi, is just as innocent as anyone else who lives in Israel, whether Jewish, Muslim, or Christian,” said the father, very distressed and agitated as he was being questioned by the reporter. “This is the wrong way to bring about peaceful coexistence. I call upon the Palestinians to change their direction, away from this horrendous violence. It’s about time that they take a unified approach to maintaining their independence. I have lived in this area since my birth. I have never been more insulted than now. Terrorism is marring the name of Islam all over of the world. It is lessening my capacity to live in harmony with my Jewish and Arab brothers. I can go on and on, but for now I want to convey my sympathies to the families who have lost their loved ones, and to wish a quick recovery to my son and to all those who have been injured in this attack.”
“Excuse me! I would like to say something,” said one of the men who were listening to the interview and got the reporter’s attention. “Yes, sir. Your name please, and what would you like to add?” asked Westreich.
“My name is Taariq, and I am honored to be a Muslim Arab citizen living in Israel, having the rights and freedom to live my life with respect and to receive the care that my family and I deserve. There is no nation in the world, especially an Arab one, where I could feel that I am truly at home, having equal rights and truly having equal rights in a democratic society. Arabs have migrated all around the world, having left behind the brutality and derision they received from their Muslim brothers back in their homeland. But here in Israel, I have more freedom to be myself and express my faith without worrying about getting my tongue cut off or being beheaded because of my ethnic affiliation or the depth of my belief; regardless of how different it might be from other religions or Muslim sects.” He was talking firmly and focused directly on the lens of the camera. He clearly wanted to voice his desire for peace.
“Do you think that the Fattah and Hamas coalition is interested in keeping the peace agreements intact?” asked David Farjan, one of the international reporters on the scene. “No!” Taariq replied emphatically. “Not by the way things are happening. As an Arab, I’m ashamed that the Palestinians are breeding these killers from childhood. I remember a time, before the Intifadas, when the educational programs centered on improving the lifestyle of the Palestinian youth. However, ever since Sahib Dachlawi and Hamas came into power, the only learning and education these unfortunate kids are getting is based on constant brainwashing, embedded with massive propaganda programs. The people and the children are being programmed into becoming maniacs who believe that martyrdom is the key to going to heaven. This process is ironically presented in the preschool programs by using figures like Mickey Mouse as their mentor. I actually saw this on one of their recent broadcasts. The school program encourages hate and hostility and actually incites violence. This is not my idea of what children should be learning in any school, in any country.”
“Well, world, you heard it right here and now. This is Samuel Westreich reporting for Channel 13 news. I have had just about all I can take of this, and I’m sure you have as well. Have a safe, peaceful day. Let’s hope that tomorrow will be brighter day for all of us.”
These terrorist attacks enraged the Israeli public, along with many of the Palestinians whose hearts had been set on attaining social equality. They only dared to share their silent support for Inkasar with those who were closely related o
r those who had been already initiated by the movement.
The mission we had been planning for began the next day. The Organization teams all travelled to their designated points. Udi and Yaniv had already arrived in France, at the designated border passage. Their itinerary called for an open border entry into Switzerland, as opposed to a registered airport entry. There was a specific point in the Northwest near Basel where their passage had been secured with the Swiss Intelligence Agency, with whom the Organization had had a long history of collaboration. The two organizations had always exchanged pertinent information regarding the movements of terrorist organizations and the locations of their operations.
The key to any operation was covered by a canopy of secrecy. Since there had been so many breaches of security, we were extra cautious about communication. It did not matter what or who you believed in or which side you were on; money was the foundation for treason and disloyalty. When it came down to money, someone was always game. We were aware that there were many on both sides of the aisle at all times. It never hurt to be extra careful when dealing with the Islamic underground that infiltrated the world communications infrastructure. There were times during the implementation of a mission when we had to use a special sign language based on facial expressions. Udi and Yaniv were rather adept at using this language; their closeness served to amplify the subtle nuances that were necessary for its applications. It was a perfect form of secretive communication which served us well.