Game changer, p.22
Game Changer, page 22
More than in front of her—one had died on her.
So much for her relationship with Debbie Steele. After leaving two dead bodies in her neighbor’s home—which wouldn’t exactly do wonders for resale value—Rachel had to believe her days of being trusted to feed the cat were over.
And now she found herself under the protection of both a Secret Service agent and an Israeli spy, and had learned that someone out there had leapfrogged her research and was using these discoveries, not in service to mankind, but to its detriment.
Surprisingly, she was drawn to both men more than she wanted to admit, even to herself. As she knew and had preached, you liked who you liked, with very little conscious control. They were both decisive and talented. Both direct and down to earth. No putting on airs. And while she was sure they were both accomplished liars, she was convinced their lies were never told for the purposes of political jockeying or to backstab a colleague. Neither man was an academic, but both were very sharp. She was astonished at how quickly the Israeli had managed to learn enough neuroscience to fool her, even for a short period.
Perhaps these men appealed to a latent bad-boy-seeking gene she didn’t know she had. Perhaps she had been in academia too long. In a politically correct university culture packed with too many spoiled rich kids complaining of micro-aggressions, parsing every word and statement for any hint it might give offense, no matter how convoluted the logic behind it, desperately needing to separate the world into victimizers and victims. People with so much time on their hands, and so few actual struggles, that the brush of a metaphoric butterfly wing would send them howling in outrage.
Kevin Quinn and Eyal Regev lived in a world with macro-aggressions. They were too busy dodging bullets and protecting their countries to worry that an innocently delivered word might be misunderstood, or become crusaders for safe spaces in which reality was never allowed to intrude. In their world, those who lost didn’t get a trophy for participation, because the losers might not be alive to receive one.
Both men were now silent, mentally preparing for the vid-meet that was scheduled for three p.m. sharp, less than five minutes away. Rachel realized she had been in this alternate reality, this impossible reality, for almost exactly twenty-four hours.
When Eyal had said the meeting would be high-level, she had no idea how much of an understatement this would be. Both of her male companions had confirmed the guest list for the upcoming meeting, which she still refused to believe. Not until it really happened.
She was actually going to be in a meeting with Matthew Davinroy, virtual though it might be. The President of the United States. The hit parade of absurdities was about to continue.
In addition to the president, attendees on the Israeli side would be the Prime Minister, Ori Kish; the head of Mossad, Avi Wortzman; his Deputy Director, Yaron Hurwitz; and, of course, Eyal Regev. On the American side there would be Secretary of DHS Greg Henry and his second-in-command, Matthew O’Malley, along with Special Agents Cris Coffey and Kevin Quinn.
And a Harvard neuroscientist who might well be dreaming it all.
It turned out that her host had a special room for vid-meets that was highly secure. She and her two companions took their places at the small table in the room and waited for the meeting to begin. Their wait was very short-lived, as holographic software from a set of cameras built into the walls turned their tiny square table into an imposing oval specimen, and began populating the virtual conference table with participants, looking for all the world as though they were really in the Israeli’s home. The projections of the participants, from multiple locations, was done even more seamlessly than usual, and each had an identity and location tag floating nearby.
As the chair of Harvard’s neuroscience department, Rachel was used to being the most senior and influential person at a conference table. At this particular meeting—not so much.
The tags floating near the Israeli attendees indicated they were all together at Beit Aghion in Jerusalem, the Israeli equivalent of the White House. And they all looked weary, not surprising since six o’clock on a Tuesday evening in Washington was one o’clock on Wednesday morning for them.
As the most powerful human on the planet, Rachel had expected Matthew Davinroy to begin, but since Ori Kish had asked for this gathering the duty fell to him.
“Mr. President,” he said. “Thanks to you and your team for meeting with us on such short notice.”
“You made it quite clear how important you felt this was,” said the president bluntly, looking slightly annoyed. Not exactly you’re welcome. The relationship between Davinroy and Kish was rumored to be ice-cold.
“I’m confident you’ll agree that it is,” said Kish.
“I’ve been briefed on all relevant background,” said Davinroy, “and the information you supplied us. Apparently, there are some troubling events involving miniaturized drones and advanced neuroscience that have arisen. And some further disclosures that you’d like to make.”
“Before we begin,” said Greg Henry, “I did want to thank Avi for the heads-up on Azim Jafari and the Hamza Mosque.”
“Yes, of course,” seconded Davinroy insincerely. “Much appreciated.”
“Glad we could help,” said Wortzman, trying to be diplomatic while his boss, the prime minster, couldn’t quite manage to keep all the hostility he felt toward the president from his face. “We’re relieved that his plan was averted, and grieve with you over the loss of innocent life in the mosque.”
“Thank you,” said the president. He turned his focus to the man sitting beside Rachel at the virtual table and his expression darkened. “Special Agent Quinn. I must admit, you’re the last person I expected to be conferencing with today. Or any day.”
“Mr. President,” said Quinn, “I don’t have words enough to apologize properly. As you’ve been briefed, I wasn’t myself. I was manipulated. I hope that one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”
The president glared at Quinn for several long seconds but didn’t acknowledge his apology. He shifted his gaze to Rachel. “You must be Professor Howard,” he said. “I’m told your presence is important. So thanks for attending.”
Rachel was frozen for just a moment, unable to believe the man she had seen so often addressing the nation was now addressing her. For once she decided not to ask the participants at this meeting to call her by her first name. She already felt small enough.
“Thank you, sir,” she replied, hearing these words as if they were spoken by someone else.
“Professor Howard,” said the Secretary of Homeland Security, “Greg Henry here. I should tell you that during the past several hours we’ve had swarms of people picking through your background in a bit of a frenzy. As of ten minutes ago, you’ve been granted our nation’s highest security clearance. We’ll give you a more formal rundown of what that entails another day, but I thought you should know. Every word said in this meeting is confidential. Do you understand?”
Rachel nodded woodenly. “Of course.”
“Can I assume you’ve implemented the jamming protocol we sent you at each of your locations?” said Avi Wortzman.
“We have,” said Henry.
“Good,” replied the head of Mossad. “This will ensure any possible listening devices get nothing but static.”
“Are we ready to begin?” said Davinroy, making no attempt to hide his impatience.
“We are,” said the Israeli prime minister. “This will not be an altogether comfortable meeting for us, I can assure you. But it’s time to bring our great friend and ally up to speed on some . . . issues we’ve been encountering. Despite having to air more dirty laundry than we’d like.”
For the first time, Rachel detected a glimmer of enthusiasm from the president, who hadn’t realized the coming disclosure might be humiliating to Kish, and was relishing the prospect.
“This being said,” continued Kish, “let me give the floor to Avi Wortzman.”
“Thank you,” said the Mossad leader. “Everyone here is now aware that yesterday, Special Agent Quinn discovered a working fly drone and sent it to Special Agent Coffey for analysis. I understand that the result of this analysis showed that this drone is very advanced, beyond any known technology.”
Rachel was transfixed, even though she knew what was coming, since Eyal Regev had come clean with her and Kevin that morning. Kevin had taken time to carefully explain to her the full significance of what had been disclosed.
Every major country in the world had been working furiously on drone tech for many decades. She already knew that drones, civilian and military alike, had become as plentiful as the stars in the heavens—who didn’t?—but she hadn’t known that the ultimate military and intelligence goal was to perfect a drone that could perfectly mimic a tiny insect. If a technology that was impervious to state-of-the art bug detection could be perfected also, such a drone would be the perfect spy device. A bug that was actually a bug.
Small. Mobile. Self-installing. Undetectable.
The phrase, I’d like to be a fly on the wall had come into common usage for a reason. A housefly was the ultimate spy. Which is why Kevin’s discovery had created such interest, and such angst. In one’s own hands such a device was a godsend. In the hands of one’s enemies an unmitigated disaster, a cause for serious alarm, perhaps panic.
Even Cris Coffey didn’t know where Avi Wortzman was heading. Kevin had contacted his old boss at eleven that morning and asked him to tell the secretary of Homeland and the president about the fly drone, and Dr. Beam’s analysis, despite having insisted that he not do so only the day before. Quinn had explained he needed to get Davinroy’s attention so he would accept a meeting request from the Israelis that would shed light on this.
Coffey had been stunned. How in the world had the nation’s most hunted man managed to suddenly get into bed with the Israelis?
Quinn had assured him all would become clear during the meeting, and had ended the conversation. Now, less than seven hours later, Coffey was about to get his answers.
“Your understanding is a little off,” said Greg Henry, ever cautious with information. “We believe the drone may represent a leap forward. But it isn’t yet clear. It came to us damaged. So we really couldn’t put it through any paces and verify its effectiveness. But why don’t you tell us how well it performs. When Prime Minister Kish asked for this meeting, he said you know who’s behind it.”
“More like which country,” said Wortzman. He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated.
“What are you waiting for?” spat Davinroy, “a drum-roll? Which country is it?”
Wortzman grimaced uncomfortably. “Ours,” he said simply. “We’re behind it. Israel. After putting our best minds on the problem for decades we got a few lucky breaks and perfected the drones. They can fly great distances, blend in with surroundings, and plant themselves in cars and offices. They’ve been in deployment for the last four years.”
“Four years!” thundered Davinroy. “You’ve used these things for four years and kept us entirely out of the loop?”
Ori Kish blew out a long breath. “Yes. Both our countries support numerous Black projects. With all due respect, Mr. President, are you telling me you don’t have advanced tech you haven’t shared with your allies?”
“That means nothing!” barked Davinroy. “The difference is that we’re the superpower here. The mother ship. And we provide you with substantial support. Financially, militarily, and at bodies like the UN.”
“And we’ve given you substantial intelligence in exchange!” retorted Kish, not backing down an iota. “Even before this drone was perfected. We’re your only true friend in the most deadly region in the world, where scores of countries think of America as the Great Satan and want to destroy it as much as they want to destroy Israel. I know you’re aware that we’ve upped the intel we provide to you considerably in the past four years. What you don’t know is that we’ve given you even more anonymously. I won’t disclose specifics, but intel from our fly drone program enabled us to stop Kim Jong-un from nuking six of your cities a few years back, including Washington DC. We had him bugged for years. Believe me, that was one crazy bastard, but he managed to sneak the nukes in and bury them in these cities. This wasn’t just an idle threat. He couldn’t wait to carry it out. If we hadn’t stepped up, President Davinroy, neither Washington nor you would be here right now. I know for a fact that he planned to be sure you were at the White House when he set his devices off.”
Davinroy looked stunned by this earth-shattering revelation. Rachel could tell he wasn’t just horrified that North Korea had come close to destroying six major cities, without America having a clue, but more so that he and tens of millions of American citizens might owe their lives to Israel and Ori Kish. It clearly grated on him.
“If you had shared this program with us like you should have,” said the president, now recovered from his shock, “we wouldn’t need your rescuing.”
“Again, with all due respect,” said Kish, “you wouldn’t have shared it either if you were in our shoes. We’re a tiny country. We aren’t surrounded by Mexico and Canada. We’re surrounded by militant enemy states that have vowed to destroy us. This drone technology gave us an enormous advantage. It did more than ensure we got the intel to prevent Kim Jong-un from nuking you. It allowed us to stop Iran from nuking us, and at the eleventh hour. If this tech had leaked, Israel wouldn’t still be standing today. Others would have learned how to detect these drones. They would still be valuable, but those at the upper echelons of power would protect themselves from this surveillance.”
“What are you saying, that we would have leaked it?” said Davinroy.
“Not intentionally,” said the prime minister. “And not for certain. But bringing you into the tent would have increased the risk of a leak dramatically. We can keep a secret because our existence depends on it. But you are forty times our size, in population and bureaucracy. Our necks are in the noose, not yours, and you can’t say your record when it comes to keeping secrets is spotless. China has hacked you repeatedly. Look at the damage done by Edward Snowden, and there are many other examples. I’m not being critical, but two people have a better chance than a thousand of keeping a secret. And you’re the thousand.”
Heated expressions appeared on multiple faces around the table. The president glared at his counterpart but didn’t respond further.
“So why tell us about these drones now?” said Henry. “Because Agent Quinn found a disabled one? You didn’t want us to panic? Wanted to make sure we knew it was friendly fire?”
Wortzman gritted his teeth. “I wish this were the case,” he said. “But I’m afraid it’s much worse than that.”
36
Just when Rachel had thought the tension among the conference participants could not be greater, it promptly grew. Now there was anxiety mixed in with the anger. Both men actually in the room with her, rather than virtually, had remained silent and had kept their faces largely impassive. When emotions ran high and there were titans present, it was best to try to blend into the walls rather than speaking up and risk drawing fire.
Avi Wortzman pressed a button on a computer pad in front of him and the vid-meet software projected a holographic image of a middle-aged man above the center of the virtual table. Clean-cut, relatively handsome, with gray eyes and brown hair.
“You’re looking at a man named Dmitri Kovonov,” said the head of Mossad, as the man’s age, weight, and other relevant physical data appeared beside his image. “He’s a Russian Jew. He emigrated from Moscow to Tel Aviv with his family at the age of fourteen. Brilliant. Obtained a PhD from Technion University in Haifa at the age of nineteen. I’ll have his full dossier sent to all of you after this meeting. But what is relevant right now is that he was the number two scientist on the team that developed these drones.”
“Who was number one?” asked Henry.
“We promise our scientific heads a certain degree of anonymity,” said Wortzman, dodging the question. “But back to Kovonov. A month ago he went rogue. He killed four members of the team and destroyed the one factory that fabricates the fly drones’ microelectronics. He made off with our entire supply of inventoried drones, and left us with no way to make more until we can rebuild the factory. An expensive and time-consuming undertaking.”
“And you had no safeguards against something like this?” said Henry in disbelief.
“We had plenty of safeguards,” replied Wortzman. “But he outsmarted us. We trusted him implicitly and were caught with our pants down. Around our ankles. It’s a failure of epic proportions. I offered my resignation to the prime minster afterward, but he wouldn’t take it.”
“Do you know why Kovonov did it?” said Henry. “His endgame?”
“We aren’t certain. Our best guess is that he was loyal to Mother Russia all along, possibly having renounced his Judaism. We think he bided his time until he had a clear path to make off with the drones. I know you’re aware this is a breakthrough technology, a game changer. But until you’ve worked with it like we have, you can’t fully appreciate just how much of a game changer.”
“So Kovonov could be using these flies to monitor this very meeting,” said Henry. “With Russia or someone worse behind them.”
“He could be trying,” said the head of Mossad. “But as you assured us when we began, you’ve implemented the jamming countermeasures we provided. Any flies in your offices are hearing nothing but static. We currently also have the ability to detect these drones, which we’ll share with you immediately after the meeting. Although if he makes certain changes to the drones, we may lose this capability in the future.”
“Perfect,” said the president sarcastically.
“The bottom line,” said Wortzman, “is that these drones, this technology, could now be in the hands of an expansionist Russia, with its sights on regaining its superpower status at any cost. Or if Kovonov went freelance, the situation could be even worse. He could be selling them to more dangerous players even than Russia.”
