“Maybe it’s a picture of hope.”
Alicia looked at Marcus driving toward Jerusalem. “Brandi’s supposed to be released in two days. If she isn’t, there’s not a soul we can go to. No one we can tell, or we’d risk espionage charges filed against you.”
“Maybe we won’t have to go to anybody. Who the hell could we really trust? The Kinsley Group, with its roster of former politicians on the payroll, is so embedded in the Middle East that we’d have to use a lug wrench to twist them off the oil rigs. Jonathon Carlson’s grandfather had ties to Nazi Germany, and much of Carlson’s wealth today was built on those investments. His grandfather ostensibly wanted the spearhead that Patton took from Hitler’s vault. When we get to the hotel, let’s see what we can find out about the remaining members of the Circle of 13.” Marcus changed lanes and accelerated around a car.
There was a buzz from one of the phones in his pockets, and he knew it wasn’t his mobile. Marcus pulled out Taheera’s phone and answered it.
“Mr. Marcus.” The voice flat as the first call, yet it had the same intimidating tone Rahim used when he spoke during the forty-eight hours Marcus spent coding the Myrtus worm hidden in the belly of the Iranian nuclear operation. “The time is growing closer, Mr. Marcus. We need to set up a meeting.”
“If Brandi isn’t released in two days, there will be no meeting.”
“You are in no position to offer a veiled threat.”
“Okay, I’ll lift the veil. The only way that coding is going to continue is when you get the updated coding I installed on a flash drive. It’s the key you need to keep in the ignition. We have an agreement. Your engineers can see the centrifuge problems you experienced have now ended, and it was because of what I did. If you want it to continue, the girl must be released as we agreed, and then you get the flash drive with the coding that will be your lifeline for that plant.”
“The girl will be released. I shall call you right before she boards the plane and tell you where to meet me. Bring the Quincy woman. I have something to tell her.”
EIGHTY-FOUR
Alicia spent four straight hours on her computer at the small desk in the hotel room. Marcus picked up orders of hummus, grape leaves, lentils, flat bread and baba ghanoush and brought them back to the room where they ate. He called Bahir and asked about the package.
“It arrived a half hour ago. Are you coming, Paul?”
“Yes. Until we get there, what is the most secure place in your shop?”
“You mean a place where no one would ever find this?”
“Yes.”
“I have such a place. As a matter of fact, it hasn’t been used since 1935. I will keep it in there until your return.”
“Thank you.” He disconnected and turned to Alicia. “The spear’s arrived.”
“Great…and so has some new information.”
“What do you have?”
“Carlson received an email from someone named Thomas Andrew Jenkins. In it, Jenkins tells him the acquisition will be made soon…the birds have landed. He says the acquisition will be ready for the next meeting.”
“Acquisition…birds have landed. Maybe the acquisition is the spear. Birds could mean us…our flight landing. Who is Thomas Jenkins?”
“I dug through every clearance I could. Jenkins is now a consultant with the Kinsley Group. His background listed him as working in sales for the Coca Cola Company in Tel Aviv and then he went to work for one other company, Regions Oil Limited. I suspect that was his cover. It gave him a license and credentials to travel across the Middle East.”
“You’re saying CIA, right?”
“Yeah.”
“What’d you say is his full name?”
“Thomas Andrew Jenkins.”
Marcus thought back to his first meeting with Nathan Levy. ‘An old friend of mine, Andy Jenkins, was once stationed in Tel Aviv by your government for almost two decades.’
“What’s wrong, Paul? What are you thinking?”
“How long was he with Regions Oil, and who are they?”
“Let me see.” Her fingers raced across the keyboard. After half a minute, she looked up at Marcus. “He worked twelve years in sales for Regions Oil, an international company with operations in Israel and the U.S. Net profits last year were 27 billion. Regions Oil was established in 1988 as an outgrowth of agricultural organizations from the Kibbutz Movement. And, today, three companies own Regions. Controlling ownership, at fifty-five percent, is the PetChem Consolidated Group. Its chairman is none other than Jonathon Carlson. Regions purchased the operations of Genesis Petroleum, including the refineries, terminals, pipelines, and retail assets in the U.S. and continued the expansion of its business in the Middle East.”
Marcus was silent.
Alicia added, “Here’s another thing. Senator Wyatt Dirkson, at one time, was on the Board of Directors for Genesis. The man who’s now the interim prime minister of Israel was formerly on the Board for Regions. As the ride at Disneyland serenades us, it’s a small world after all.”
“So it seems.”
Marcus’s phone buzzed on the counter. The caller ID displayed: Hebrew University. Marcus answered and Jacob Kogen said, “Paul, I have only slept a few hours a night since you left on your journey. I know you’ve found something. We must talk.”
“I’m listening, Jacob.”
“No, in person, please. I want to review what you have found. But even more than that, I wanted to tell you to be very careful. The Mossad is following you.”
“How do you know?”
“They’ve questioned me about your whereabouts, what you may have said the weeks you were doing research here.”
“What do you mean, may have said?”
“I don’t know for sure. By the line of their questioning, I’d surmise it has something to do with the enemies of Israel. Most likely, Iran.”
“Jacob, listen to me. I haven’t done anything that will compromise the safety and security of Israel. If anything, what I have done and will do is something that will further protect it. You’re going to have to trust me here.”
“I do. I trust you with all my heart and soul. This is providence. It must be. I have no doubt in my mind. But it is very dangerous because evil is fighting you. Dark forces will keep coming at you with savage repetition.”
Marcus said nothing
“Paul, we must meet.”
“I’ll call you.”
“Please, be very careful.”
They entered the Cafez coffee shop in the late afternoon. Half a dozen customers sat at the tables, some reading Arabic newspapers, others reading from tablets, iPads and laptops. Marcus led Alicia to a table in the far corner just as Bahir came in from the back room with a bag of coffee beans in his arms. He grinned when he saw Marcus, set the bag down, went behind the curtain to a rear room and came out with a small FedEx box. He brought it to their table with a cup of coffee in his other hand for Marcus.
“Paul, I have missed you my friend. I hid this well, under an old trapdoor. Even my grandson doesn’t know the trapdoor exists.”
“Why is it there?”
“Perhaps I will show you.” Bahir’s face bloomed.
“Bahir, I want you to meet Alicia Quincy.”
Bahir grinned, his eyes suddenly luminous. “Paul leaves to return with the most wonderful gift in the world, the company of a beautiful woman. It is my honor to meet you, Alicia.”
She smiled and reached to shake his hand. “Paul told me how much he appreciates your friendship. I’m delighted to finally meet you, too.”