And then: “Yes.” As he said this he did so with a honing eye squinting in a manner of suspicion. “Your presence here is quite specific,” he told him. “You are Dr. Sakharov’s aide and nothing more. Therefore, your movement in this facility is quite minimal.”
Levine bowed his head. “My apologies. I was not told.”
“You are here only because it was agreed upon by al-Ghazi and President Ahmadinejad that, at least for now, we work together for a common goal when, in fact, the truth is that this agreement is between two men who do not trust each other. You watch me. I watch you — except I have more eyes.” He pointed to the soldiers behind him. “Be that as it may, the agreement is that you are allowed to forward all of Sakharov’s findings to al-Ghazi as a failsafe that your faction has all the detailed information to duplicate the doctor’s finding outside the lab. But only under the strictest measures of protocol.”
“Which means?”
“That you will only forward Sakharov’s findings under very watchful eyes — most notably mine. You’re here only to verify that the information sent to al-Ghazi is true. And don’t think for a minute, Umar, that I don’t know that your al-Ghazi’s watchdog in the same manner that I’m Ahmadinejad’s. Therefore, you will be restricted to the common areas on the main tier. Everywhere else is off limits. Is that clear?”
“Very.”
The Devil’s Companion smiled in a way that was genuine, which often ingratiated himself to be trusted just before he struck them dead, and then clapped a hand on Levine’s shoulder, turning him away from the Comm Center. “Be as it may,” he began, “Doctor Sakharov’s findings will be glorious. And it will be your people who will destroy the Great Satan and the infidels of Israel. And it will be done with the blessing of Allah.”
“I know not of a specific plan regarding my people.”
“Al-Ghazi did not tell you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then I will tell you this,” he said. “It all begins with the relic below.”
Levine cocked his head questioningly. “Are you talking of the holy relic?”
Al-Sherrod’s smile flourished, showing his irregular rows of teeth, and nodded. “I’ve something to show you,” he told him. And then his face beamed with the pride of a champion.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Two days after the Lohamah Psichlogit lost communication with their operative working on the terrorist front, Yitzhak Paled sent a covert contingency force to the Afghan region to team up with CIA operatives in order to reevaluate the situation and retrace Levine’s last position, since he was a high asset to both sides.
It was later discovered that Levine did not make his routine connection with his courier as scheduled; therefore, red flags surfaced.
Satellites were immediately set to target over Afghan and its hotspots, but the mountain range was too massive, the satellites failing to pick up anything of significance other than insurgent squads walking mountainous trails. So after three days of searching, after three days of the operative missing his contacts, it became clear to the principles of the Lohamah Psichlogit that Aryeh Levine was missing.
But to where? Was his position compromised? Or was he dead? These questions worried Paled tirelessly since Levine was an A-1 asset that took years to implement as a plant. Due to his solid and consistent intelligence networking over the years, the thwarting of insurgent missions on Israeli and American fronts proved successful on several occasions with numerous lives saved. But with Levine missing and no intel serving as the conduit to “keeping your enemies close,” both the United States and Israel were gnawing on their proverbial lower lips in anticipation of what was to come now that the window of collecting data had been abruptly closed with Levine’s absence becoming critical in the wake of his disappearance.
Yitzhak stood still examining the wall-sized screen in the Lohamah Psichlogit monitoring lab. He stood there rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he studied the many angles of the Afghan and Iranian Fronts, the satellite images zipping from one picture to another while honing in on the coordinates of Levine’s last points of contact.
But this exercise of making a detection of any kind, he knew, was nothing more than a futile attempt at serendipity.
The voice beside him didn’t startle him like it would most people when someone comes up from behind without sound or announcement. Paled simply stood unmoving as the man spoke. “Anything?” he asked.
Yitzhak Paled shook his head — a single nod really. “He missed his contact in Tehran,” answered.
“Aryeh is exceptional at what he does. If he’s out there, then he’ll contact us.” Benyamin Kastenbaum was a large man who had served on every level of Mossad with the exception of the Director’s position, which he declined on more than one occasion simply for the fact that he enjoyed his position as an intelligence officer so much that there was little else he wanted outside of what he already was. When he spoke he did so with a booming voice that rattled the air around him, his bass so deep it seemed to stimulate the atmosphere. But he was becoming old, his hair having gone gray a decade ago, his body having grown soft from muscles that used to be rock solid. But his mind remained clear, his memory forgetting little over the years.
Yitzhak nodded. “If his position has been compromised, Iran will not hesitate to execute him. I fear he may already be gone, Benyamin. And if that’s the case, then we are surely crippled on the Iranian Front.”
“There are others.”
“But Aryeh was our deepest asset.”
“Then we must take into consideration that Aryeh may be dead or captured and move on. Let our sources maneuver into position to gather whatever information is available regarding al-Ghazi and the Revolutionary Front. In the meantime, continue to watch the Fronts if it soothes you. But remember this: It’s all right to empathize, but never sympathize. Once you sympathize, then you will lose your ability to lead. Personal emotions must be set aside, Yitzhak. There will always be others who can take his place.” And then: “This is war. It always has been.”
Yitzhak sighed. Kastenbaum was correct and his assessment was even more so. This was a war that was unbridled and vicious, and most likely a war without end. But all wars had their components when it came to winning or losing. Assets were a premium. And Levine was one such asset.
“Maneuver others carefully into red zones,” he said. “And maintain a vigil on both fronts.”
The old man placed a soft hand on Yitzhak’s shoulder. “I know you’re friends,” he told him. “And I pray for Aryeh. But if you don’t recognize that what we do benefits the whole and not the one, then you will fail us all.”
“Although I respect you, Benyamin, and love you like a brother, don’t you ever lecture me again about my position here. I lead the Lohamah Psichlogit because I’m capable of doing so. The loss of one man, even if it happens to be a friend, will not deter me from performing my duties.” He turned to the old man whose face had become crestfallen in surprise. “Is that clear?”
Benyamin nodded. “I’m sorry, Yitzhak. You’re right. I was out of place.”
And then Yitzhak spoke gently as if the matter was already forgotten. “Is there anything else?”
“Just one matter,” he said. “We received the data regarding the carbon dating of Aaron’s staff.”
“And?”
“It’s the real thing, Yitzhak. It’s been confirmed to be thirty-seven hundred years old.”
Yitzhak focused his attention back to the screen, his eyes glossing over. Then in a whisper to no one in particular, he said, “Then it truly is the Ark of the Covenant.”