Game changer, p.28
Game Changer, page 28
Rachel snorted. “I have to give you credit, Eyal,” she said, “that’s your first lie since agreeing to be straight with us. Of course you can coerce me. Just force me to undergo your Matrix Learning procedure multiple times. The equivalent of injecting me with a poison so I’ll be motivated to find the antidote, even if only to save my own sanity.”
“Yes,” said Regev with a sigh. “I guess we could coerce you. But we wouldn’t. That’s not our way.”
“Easy to say that now,” she pointed out. “But high-minded ethics have a way of disappearing under utter desperation.”
Regev looked uncertain. “I don’t know how to respond to that,” he said. “I suppose what you say is true. All I can tell you is that this couldn’t be more important. Your chance to save the world, and change it forever. Your chance to perfect your dream technology. You’d be taking a risk, but think of the reward.”
Rachel shook her head. “I understand every action you and your government have taken now, Eyal. To be honest, I’m not sure I would have done anything differently if I were in your shoes. I do think you’re one of the good guys, as is your government—in general,” she hastened to add. “But I can’t come with you.”
“Because of fear of coercion?” said Regev.
“No. Because you admitted yourself you aren’t sure who you can trust back in Israel. Your country spawned this technology and a rogue Kovonov. You’ve admitted he has comprehensive knowledge of your agency and that it could be riddled with moles. And you can’t even trust those who oppose him. Who’s to say he hasn’t tampered with their minds? Who’s to say he hasn’t created more unwilling human weapons like he did with Kevin? Traps ready to spring now or at some unknown time in the future? Kovonov will learn I’m working with you and determine my location. Are you really sure you can stop him from killing me if he unleashes his full bag of tricks?”
Regev wore a pained expression, and his lack of an answer spoke volumes.
“I didn’t think so,” said Rachel. “I haven’t ruled out undergoing your Matrix Learning procedure. I have to weigh this further. But for now, my answer has to be no. I won’t go with you. Not because I don’t appreciate the mess you’re in, or want to help. But because I want to be alive, and feel safe, if I ever do decide to take you up on your offer.”
Regev smiled weakly. “You make some valid points,” he said. “You do. But Kovonov will still be coming after you. We would get a team of handpicked men from outside the Mossad to protect you. I still think you’d be safer with us than on your own, despite the risks you’ve mentioned.”
“I know I’m still being hunted,” said Rachel. “That I have to abandon my old life, at least for a while. So I will dedicate myself to finding countermeasures against Kovonov’s neurotech. But not in conjunction with the Mossad.”
“And will you keep what I’ve told you confidential?”
Rachel and Quinn exchanged glances. They had promised not to share what he told them as long as it didn’t conflict with the interests of the US. So how dangerous was it for their country if they kept this to themselves? The US government was aware that minds could be tampered with, and that a man named Kovonov possessed dangerous technology and had to be stopped. Were the details of Matrix Learning and the impending psychosis of the entire upper echelon of an ally critical at this moment?
“To be honest, Eyal, I don’t know,” answered Quinn finally. “I have to give it a lot more thought.”
Rachel nodded her agreement.
“I appreciate your honesty,” said Regev softly.
The Israeli tilted his head in thought for several seconds, sighed, and then faced the woman he would have given his life to recruit. “Okay, Rachel. Do it your way. I won’t try to stop you. I’ll even agree to actively help you evade my agency. But I do have one condition. Of Kevin.”
Quinn raised his eyebrows as the Israeli turned toward him.
“I want your word that you’ll stick to her like glue,” said Regev. “Until this is over. Help her. Protect her with the skill and tenacity of the Secret Service agent that you are.”
Quinn didn’t need to think about this for even an instant. “You have my word,” he said.
“Thank you,” said Regev in relief. “Kevin, I honestly believe you’re one of the most impressive operatives in your country.” He smiled. “If you were just a bit more impressive, you might even rate being an operative in mine. You know, at a low level,” he added, his grin widening.
Quinn laughed. “Wow, what an honor,” he said dryly. “But I have a request of you, also.”
“Go on,” said Regev.
“I’d like for my people to think we’re working with you as planned.”
“Interesting. Do you have reason not to even trust your own people?”
“Not a specific one, no. But the fewer people who know where Rachel is, the better. Regardless of how much I might trust them. I’m sure you would agree.”
Regev nodded. “Absolutely. I couldn’t have said it better. You’re like the less-talented, lighter-skinned Christian brother I never had.”
“I take it then that you’ll do it.”
“I will,” said the Israeli. “But I’ll have to trust someone at Mossad to make this work. My every instinct says that Avi Wortzman is a good man. Not a saint, by any means, but incorruptible.”
“Unless he’s been manipulated,” said Quinn.
Regev sighed. “True. But my gut says he’s a man I can trust. And if we want to throw off your people into thinking you’re working with us, we’ll need him. He’ll be able to come up with something that will keep you off the radars of both sides.”
“That would be appreciated,” said Quinn. “And worst case, if you’re wrong about him, at least he won’t know where we are.”
“That’s true also,” said Regev. “You’ll be on your own. But if the two of you ever need us, or want us, I’ll give you a means to contact us that will be manned 24/7. If you and the Lord Almighty call at the same instant, we’ll put you through first. And, of course, Rachel, if you succeed with countermeasures or decide to undergo Matrix Learning and lead our efforts, we’ll see to your transportation immediately.”
“Thanks, Eyal,” said Rachel. “But there is one more thing you can do.”
Regev studied her with great interest.
“Give me the passwords to get into wherever in your agency’s databanks you keep the specs and experimental data on your Matrix Learning system. I’d like to start understanding the advances you made the old-fashioned way. It may not be flash-fried into my head, but I’d like to think of myself as a quick study.”
Regev thought about this for an extended period, and Quinn couldn’t blame him. The granting of high-level passwords into the Mossad’s inner sanctum wasn’t something done lightly.
Finally, Regev nodded. “I’ll do that,” he said. “And if you let me use my phone, I’ll buy you time in case others don’t agree that I’ve done the right thing. I’ll tell my people that we’ve been delayed and will begin our flight to Israel tomorrow. Then Kevin can shoot me with a tranq gun I saw in his borrowed rucksack and you can be on your way.”
He smiled. “Not that I want to be shot, but just to give you absolute peace of mind that I won’t try to follow, or tell Wortzman about this too early.”
Rachel caught Quinn’s eye. “Do you trust him enough to let him talk to his people?”
Quinn thought it through. Regev must realize that Rachel was trying to help, just not in the way he had hoped. But also that there was a great chance she was right, and that she was safer on her own. If Quinn were the Israeli, he would genuinely try to help them at this point.
“I do trust him,” replied the Secret Service agent evenly. “Let’s cut this man loose and get him a phone.”
PART 3
Belief
“Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)”
—Walt Whitman, Song of Myself
“What is ‘real’? How do you define ‘real’? If you’re talking about what you can feel, what you can taste, what you can smell and see, then ‘real’ is simply electrical signals being interpreted by your brain.”
—Morpheus, The Matrix
“The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other in silence for some time; at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.
‘Who are you?’ said the Caterpillar.
Alice replied rather shyly, ‘I—I hardly know, sir, just at present—at least I knew who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.’”
—Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
45
Dmitri Kovonov had a cab drop him at the Cockaponset Lodge and hiked two miles through the woods to the GPS coordinates he had been given. He could have had his underlings pick him up but he wanted some time for reflection, and picking his way through trees and undergrowth in a section of the forest without a preset hiking path focused his mind and got his heart pumping.
It was three hours before sunset and the forest was cool and dry, and the higher oxygen levels provided by the foliage invigorating.
After almost an hour of being immersed in the beauty and serenity of nature, he came to a small clearing and saw his associates’ rented Land Rover, his preferred vehicle, which had certainly been earning its off-road stripes on this operation. He joined the two men inside, Daniel Eisen and Yosef Mizrahi, and the three shared greetings in Hebrew.
“I trust you both enjoyed your stay in Chicago,” said Kovonov wryly. “All two hours of it.”
“It’s an interesting city,” said Mizrahi, playing along, “but it’s no Cockaponset State Forest.”
Eisen smiled. “Exactly. Chicago is popular with gangs. Not so much with bible study groups.”
“Good thing we’re here, then,” said Kovonov. He turned to his right-hand man. “Before you begin your situation report, Daniel, have you had the chance to search for the terrorist I’m looking for?”
“I have. Once we set things up here we had plenty of downtime. I ran an AI program through all US intelligence computers I could access.”
“You could have just said all US intelligence computers—period,” said Kovonov with a superior smile. “Same thing.”
Over the years the Mossad’s fly drones had managed to spy on endless passwords being entered by American intelligence personnel. This, along with advanced hack-ware developed by flash-educated geniuses had allowed the Mossad to breach the computers of the entire US intelligence apparatus.
“Unfortunately, no success yet,” reported Eisen. “But there are a few leads I’m exploring. Detention of terrorists in the mainland is still very touchy here, so they hide detainees even from themselves.”
“Then searching through the data generated by our flies on the walls might be the better option,” said Kovonov.
“About that,” said Eisen, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. It looks like the failure of our White House flies wasn’t a random glitch.” Eisen swallowed hard. “We’ve lost a number of our best drones.”
“What do you mean, lost?”
“They’ve been discovered and disabled. Not all, but enough to matter. Which means that Kish and Wortzman must have decided to tell the Americans about these drones and how to find them.”
Kovonov’s expression darkened. “Shit!” he bellowed. “Shit, shit, shit. I didn’t see that coming.”
He choked down his anger and forced himself to think analytically. “It’s the smart thing for them to do, I suppose. But I really didn’t think they had the balls,” he added, although the Hebrew word he used for balls, baytseem, translated literally into eggs. “What are the chances they told the Americans about me?”
Eisen gritted his teeth. “A hundred percent. They’re ramping up a massive operation to find you. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s among their highest priorities. The good news is that we still have a large number of drones operational, and I’ve changed them up to make them harder to detect. We also maintain our backdoor computer access. Their net will have holes plenty big enough for you to waltz through without breaking a sweat. No way they find you.”
Kovonov nodded. “I agree,” he said.
What his underlings didn’t know—yet—was that if they did their job right, the Americans would have much more to worry about than just him. Soon, with any luck, he wouldn’t even be an afterthought.
But he would have plenty of time to ponder the implications of these new developments later. For now, he needed to focus on the task at hand. “So where do we stand with our church group?” he asked.
“The twenty members of the Danbury Evangelical Fellowship are staying three or four miles north of here,” replied Eisen. “Twelve women and eight men. Most between the ages of twenty and thirty-five, but a few older. They’re lodging at a campground owned by the Holy Church of Christ, also, not coincidentally, out of Danbury, Connecticut.”
“Weapons?” said Kovonov.
Eisen shook his head. “Not unless they plan to chuck their bibles at us. They all arrived in a church minibus, which we’ve disabled. The retreat consists of ten cabins—each capable of sleeping eight, and each with adjoining bathrooms and showers—a storage shack, and a mess hall that looks like it can hold almost a hundred. They disperse to take advantage of various recreational options, individually and in groups, but they all return to the mess hall at seven for dinner, followed by bible readings and discussion. If tonight follows the pattern, this will take place outside, around a fire, and will last until about ten.”
Kovonov shuddered. “Can I assume this includes prayers and the singing of inspirational songs?”
“Yes,” said Mizrahi with a grimace. “And we listened to it all.”
“It was torture,” said Eisen, and then breaking into a grin added, “In fact, I think we deserve hazard pay.”
He went on to describe the area surrounding the campground and the surveillance they had established, and gave his assurances that the likelihood of interruption was very low.
“And you used standard cameras?” said Kovonov. He had been clear he wanted the fly drones reserved for the most challenging uses, even before the recent unfortunate losses, and just about any use would be more challenging than spying on a church group.
“Of course,” replied his second-in-command.
Kovonov gestured in the direction of the campground. “So I assume we strike when they’re all together in the mess hall,” he said.
Eisen nodded. “That’s right. I have an electronic eye watching the one door into this building. After I’ve counted twenty bodies entering, we can make our presence known.”
“Good. I’m eager to learn the exact . . . greeting, you have planned.”
“Let’s just say there won’t be a lot of singing tonight,” said Eisen.
“I’m sure the woodland creatures around here will be forever in our debt,” said Kovonov dryly.
46
Daniel Eisen and Yosef Mizrahi managed to corral the twenty members of the Danbury Evangelical Fellowship inside the mess hall well before dusk, confiscating all cell phones and other electronic devices.
The structure had a rustic, unfinished appearance, but it was spacious and vaulted—plenty large enough to house groups many times this size—with a steeply pitched roof and three sets of handsome wooden beams forming giant As inside.
The church group put up no resistance, as expected. Given they were all unarmed inside a building with only one entrance and up against two men clearly comfortable with automatic weapons, Eisen would have been surprised if a group of twenty Navy SEALS would have done anything more than surrender.
He and Mizrahi demanded silence from their prisoners. When a few failed to get the message they underscored their seriousness by shooting off a few rounds from a Maxim 9—the first semiautomatic handgun with a built-in silencer—inches from their heads.
“Anyone else want to speak?” barked Eisen. “Because our next shots won’t miss. Nod if I’ve made myself clear on this.”
Twenty heads bobbed up and down in unison, and the room fell silent, other than a few sobs and the sound of panicked breathing.
Mizrahi proceeded to link each of the twenty prisoners together in a loose chain of over a hundred zip-ties, providing a few feet of slack between each of them to allow for movement, but no chance for escape. Twenty people linked together was such an unwieldy jumble of humanity that as long as they were kept away from knives and other sharp objects they could use to free themselves they barely needed watching.
Finally, the two men took turns raiding the bunk beds in surrounding cabins for mattresses, hauling twenty into the mess hall—although calling them mattresses was being generous. Thin plastic cushions would be a better term. They tiled one corner of the mess hall with the light blue pads, each slightly longer and wider than a grown man.
Sleeping would be awkward, but there was enough play between each person that they should be able to manage it—low quality though it might be.
When these preliminaries had been attended to, Eisen and Mizrahi alerted Kovonov, who had waited in the Land Rover, working on his laptop supercomputer. Kovonov calmly sealed this revolutionary device, invented by a team at Mossad and unavailable outside of the corridors of power in Israel, inside a cushioned clamshell case and strode into the mess hall like the CEO of a top technology company taking the stage for a product launch.
He stood silently before the prisoners for several minutes, projecting command and building their anticipation. Finally, he walked in front of one outgrowth of this twenty-celled organism, a young, frightened woman wearing jeans and a yellow T-shirt.
