~ ~ ~
Avi had mixed emotions over this initial success of The Project. As an Israeli, certainly he loved his country. As a Jew he loved his people and was aware of the ever-present threat against their very existence from several fronts. Not least among them being the growing nuclear threat out of Iran. He also felt a dread and fear for Mona's mother. He knew that this success of The Project almost certainly would be motive for her captors to kill her.
Mona's father was released, now living in hiding somewhere in the United States. Her mother was kept back as a guarantee that he would somehow either slow down The Project long enough for Iran to sabotage it, copy it for their own use, or smuggle out all of the intelligence that Israel had on the plans of Iran and its confederates. Avi knew he ultimately failed.
He thought back to his most recent visit with her during their vacation to Estonia, the ancestral home of his mother's family. Avi knew that his association with Ashkelon would make him subject to considerable counter-espionage efforts by the Israeli government, always taking measures to assure he was neither followed, nor monitored electronically. Arriving at the lat-long coordinates where they planned to meet, Mona surprised him when she walked into the clearing with two men flanking her. So lost in his thoughts, he did not register the footsteps of three different people until they were in sight.
If those bastards threatened her in any way, he would rip them apart with his bare hands.
Mona took the lead in what was instantly a tense situation. She succinctly explained their presence. One was the driver of the taxi she hailed, the other got into the cab as it came to a stop at a four-way intersection.
With no attempt at concealment the leather jacket of the cab driver was already unzipped, displaying lethal hardware. Avi's trained eye instantly recognized the 9mm Beretta 92 series of semiautomatic pistols. There was no silencer. Given the density of the wooded area no silencer would have been required. With a total of only 45,228 square kilometers, Estonia still had plenty of wilderness areas where one could get lost for days and never see another human. They were in one of those vast areas now.
To make matters worse, Avi had managed to map out the scan zones and schedules of all overhead satellites to guarantee they were being observed neither from the ground nor from space. This area was, in fact, only scanned a couple of times a month. Sandwiched between Russia and Latvia, Estonia's neighbor to the north was constantly monitored from the air by Israel.
Given his senior position in the military, acquiring the satellite coverage and schedule of this part of Estonia was done easily, without arousing any suspicions. Additionally, to assure absolute anonymity, he did so using the computer of another person who had foolishly left her station for a break without logging out of the system. Nobody saw him and the security camera was, he made sure, briefly down for maintenance. Were they to be killed in this vast forest nobody would know for a long time to come, if ever.
Avi had no doubt the other man was equally well armed. Against one of them alone he might have a chance to overcome by force if needed. Any attempt at taking on both, each having weapons, would be a fool's errand.
He, of course, had his own weapon. He didn't feel the need to show his "hand" quite yet, as she didn't seem to be under physical duress or in any immediate mortal danger. More important was the fact that if they had intended to kill Mona and him, they would not have walked right up to them. He missed his days as a soldier in hostile areas. The small pistol he had in an ankle holster was nothing compared to the Israeli-produced "Tavor" which he was issued during a stint with the Givati infantry brigade for close range, anti-terrorist training.
The best he could do was to remain cool, maintain direct eye contact with the man who appeared to be the senior of the two, saying nothing – forcing the senior man to speak first.
"Names are not required, so we may dispense with pointless introductions." the apparent senior man commenced, "We know your name and that is enough. Our leaders are concerned that you are not taking seriously what will happen to the mother of Mona if the experiment you call The Project is allowed to proceed on schedule." Disconcertingly, he spoke using perfect Hebrew. Avi was unable to hide his initial shock and disgust, though he regained his composure instantly.
"We feel it best to give you a little demonstration." His associate held up a small computer tablet, touched a couple of icons, initiating a video that filled the screen. A woman shrieking and then sobbing, was led – dragged - into a nondescript room with nothing but a steel gray metal table.
Behind her was a blank concrete wall with dark stains starting higher in groupings, moving lower down individual streaks. What appeared to be pocked marks in the wall, gave rise to the fact that this room was used for executions not intended for public viewing.
Terror filled the woman's wide, bloodshot and tear-filled eyes. Mucus was beginning to form just under her nose as she cried, her breathing labored and convulsive. Her dark hair was tangled while appearing to be wet, with sweat forming on her forehead and neck, collecting in beads on her eyebrows.
For brief, intermittent moments, she looked dazed and disoriented. Dragged into the room, standing behind the table, she nearly collapsed but was held semi-erect by two men on either side. Turning her head around slightly as she gulped shallow breaths of air, she caught a glimpse of the stained wall, stared at it for a few brief seconds, and let out another shriek. She lost consciousness, head banging loudly on the table. The men picked her up, slapped her face hard once, then again, until she gained enough awareness to resume whimpering.
Witnessing this Mona screamed as soon as she recognized her mother. The senior man told her to shut up and watch the screen.
The video continued with men speaking in Farsi, Hebrew subtitles appearing below the video frame. It was clear that this wasn't a live feed.
The man at her left side read aloud her death sentence from a written script: "You are condemned for crimes against the state as being a subversive, a Zionist, treason, and attempted theft. The punishment for theft, in this case trying to steal away the hearts and minds of the Muslim faithful, is the severing of one of your hands that all may know you are a thief. Because you are a self-avowed Zionist, your crime includes the aiding and abetting of the theft of land that never belonged to the Jews, land that they ripped away from the rightful owners."
Judgment being passed, her arm was slammed on the table by the man who read her crimes. Mona again screamed, turning her face from the monitor. The man closest to her grabbed a fist full of her hair, forcing her view back to the screen.
Avi went beet red as he moved toward the man holding Mona but was stopped in his tracks when the senior of the men pulled his weapon, directing it straight at Mona's head. All of this seemed to have transpired in no more than three seconds.
Everyone's attention fully turned back to the screen as they saw a third man step forward, sword in hand. Mona's mother screamed, pleading for mercy. Without hesitation, or even requiring time to take aim, the sword sliced through the air severing her hand from her arm just above her wrist. The cut hand went limp as did her mother, tumbling unconscious to the floor.
A woman dressed in black from head-to-toe entered the room and dragged Mona's mother out of view. The two men followed her without any further comment.
The senior man turned off the video. Speaking in a very calm, ice-cold voice, "If The Project is allowed to go forward and succeed, her head will be the next part to take leave of her body. You are not the only person in The Project with whom we are in contact, but you are the most senior military official. We are counting on you to find a way to either stop it altogether or, at the very least, stall the results for several months to give us time to implement measures of our own to assure The Project is not allowed to go any further."
As this memory played in his mind, the group around him sang joyfully the national anthem. Avi joined in, a smile forced on his face. All he could think about as he sang was the terror her mother
must feel once she realized that, after she was led into another room, this time she was to be beheaded. Was she already dead? How could he ever face Mona again? What could he possibly say by way of consolation?
Lt. General Ashkelon was an astute student of humanity. Always aware of his environment even when focused on a single individual or task, he knew when things were not as they ought to be.
A couple of years ago, Ashkelon gave up trying to introduce Avi to women he thought would make him a happy husband and proud father. There was no doubt that he was attracted to women, not men, there was also no doubt that he preferred to keep his personal life played close to the vest. There were days, even weeks, when Avi seemed to be floating on air. Though tight-lipped, the General knew that somewhere, somehow, a mystery woman had to be involved. Though how and when was a mystery as counter-intelligence never reported him as seeing any one woman consistently. What they didn't know was that Avi went on 'dates' with various women frequently to divert any suspicion.
So it was today that Avi seemed unusually on-edge, even snapping at one of the technicians for no apparent reason. Though he apologized profusely this was completely out of character for the young man.
Lt. Gen. Dan Ashkelon remembered his first meeting with Avi, years back in the office of Captain Isabella Aharonson when he had visited her with Isabella's daughter, Shoshanna.
Though he did not speak with him at that time, Ashkelon sized him up rather speedily and accurately. His ongoing friendship with Shoshanna and later recommendation by Isabella came as no surprise. There was something about this young man that made him stand out.
Knowing him for quite some time now, the General was concerned about his behavior and attitude throughout this otherwise momentous day. On the way back to Jerusalem, he decided it best to confront Avi directly, without preamble. Small talk wasn't part of his personal repartee.
"This is a day for the history books, nachon Avi?"
"Nachon sir. Pity it will never be recorded as such. Come to think of it I wonder how much value our history books will have from this moment forward."
"Tell me your view of the outcome of the Experiment."
"Well sir I'm a soldier, not a philosopher. I suppose from my perspective, then, the Experiment conducted today assures the State of what could easily be defined as the single most important and valuable tool – weapon, if you will – on the planet. We have made all other weapons obsolete now that we can erase from human memory the scientists who have, or will, develop weapons against us and our allies. Again, there are far-reaching issues, obviously, that go well beyond military applications. Once what we have done reaches the ears of some of the more dovish members of the Knesset, I'm sure legislation and multiple layers of oversight will be slapped on us so quickly our heads will spin. I'll be glad to leave those conversations to senior officers, rabbis, and politicians."
"Well spoken. I share your enthusiasm as well as concerns – and quite a number more I might add. On the whole, the Experiment went off without a hitch. It looks like the outcome will match, if not exceed, our expectations."
"I couldn't agree more."
"Then I have to ask, Avi, what has had you so down and apparently upset? Tension before Stauffenberg landed I could well understand, we all felt it. Yet after an incredibly successful operation you seemed to nearly be upset by the outcome?"
"Sir?"
"Avi, I have known you too long to not see when something is wrong. Be straight with me."
Avi had been concerned that his feelings might have been too transparent. Clearly his concerns were well founded. He admired and respected the General. In more ways than one he was more a father to him than his own father had been. The General had even introduced his granddaughter, Tzipora. Truth be told, his granddaughter was an incredible person. Had he not already been in love with Mona well, who knows? Based on that experience, he knew that the General not only respected him but was also fond of him as if Avi were his own son.
His head spun over possible responses. He respected the man. He also knew that one could not bluff his way out of anything with this man. He had witnessed the outcome of those who tried and gone down in flames. The General was insightful and his bright copper-colored eyes seemed to penetrate one's soul to the core. The man was a walking, talking lie detector.
"General, I apologize if my behavior was anything less than reflective of the professionalism and dignity of one serving in, and representing, your staff. I sincerely regret it if in any way I disappointed you today by anything I said or did. I know I spoke abruptly at one point during the day. I make no excuses for my behavior and submit myself to any discipline you deem appropriate."
"My boy, my boy, let's not jump immediately to extremes. I'm concerned that something is wrong, I certainly did not mean my inquiry to be taken as a criticism of you in any way."
It worked! He knew the General well. Self-effacing and admission of culpability, even if there was none, was a sure way to disarm his suspicions. He felt badly about playing the old man like this, but far too much was at stake to do otherwise. He had to employ this minor deception for Mona's sake. He knew that her mother was either dead, or about to be put to death. He could barely deal with the weight of that knowledge as well as now having to put the General off of his scent.
"Thank you sir. I appreciate your generosity as well as your concern for my well being. The simple fact is I've had a migraine headache for the better part of a full day now. Light and sound have been difficult to handle, though necessary given the exigencies of the day. I must say the champagne hasn't helped matters."
"I'm sorry to hear that Avi. I'll instruct my driver to drop you off at home first so you can get some rest. Take tomorrow off. Hell take the next two days off. We all deserve a rest. I'll have my personal doctor look in on you tomorrow."
"Thank you sir, that won't be necessary. An aspirin and a good night sleep should restore me sufficiently. The extra day off will be all the doctoring I need. Thank you sir."
"Not at all. I have come to depend on you a great deal. I'll see you first thing Tuesday morning, nachon?"
"Nachon sir. Shabbat shalom."
"What? Oh yes, Friday already. Good Shabbas, Avi."
Arriving home, he went through the mechanics of collecting his postal mail as he rummaged through his refrigerator for anything that had not yet gone rancid during his long absence. He desperately wanted to hold Mona, for his own sake as much as hers. He longed to feel her warm, soft body next to his – to hold her in his protective arms, swearing he would never let her go again.
Over and over Avi would question himself, "Mona, what have I done? What could I have done?"
He didn't dare call her, nor did he dare to contact her via the usual system they had established. He wondered if she already knew, if she had been contacted, regarding her mother's death.
With a mental groan, he knew he'd have to await Mona' signal to meet with her. He had no idea what their next meeting would bring. Tears, certainly. Would she blame him for her mother's death? How could she not? Avi blamed himself. Maybe he could have done more, done something to delay the Experiment. Over the past weeks, months even, he had tried to determine a course to postpone the experiment, if not derail it altogether.
What did Mona's handlers expect of her, expect of him? He wasn't trained as a spy, a scientist, certainly not a saboteur. While his position gave him instant proximity to the General, in no way did it give him autonomy to do as he pleased without consequences!
Avi was able to pass details on to her handlers, via Mona, regarding military expectations, goals, and functions regarding The Project. The Prime Minister was very tight-lipped regarding much of it to the point that even the General himself was at rare times in the dark. Sure, Avi was the point person to coordinate much of what happened between the three facilities, but even he did not know the full extent of what actually happened in them. Only the Prime Minister was fully briefed.
He was certain, absolutely c
ertain, that much as the General trusted and even confided a great deal in him, he also kept a great deal of information from Avi. For that matter, he kept most of what he did away from everybody on his staff. In the last years the General seemed to have aged twenty years under the weight of this burden he had to shoulder.
Avi marveled at the extreme measures taken to protect The Project. Really, it all seemed to border on paranoia. He caught himself in the very thought. Given the information he had already turned over to obvious enemies of the state, certainly the paranoia was justified. A sense of shame, even a hint of self-loathing, began to well up. He eventually dispelled feelings of remorse, as he had on other occasions, when he remembered it was all for Mona, everything. Yes he acted on behalf of her mother too, but primarily for Mona.
At that instant he was startled by a carefully buried memory. In a forest of Estonia, one of the men who arrived into the clearing with her said, "You are not the only person in The Project with whom we are in contact, yet you are the most senior military official." He was so shocked by what transpired at that time that he had not, until now, even considered the full impact of that statement. Was somebody else on the General's staff working with these agents of Iran? Was it somebody in The Project itself? The way it was stated it was ambiguous as to the placement of the other individual, but Avi was certain that he wasn't the only person leaking information. Did the other person know him by name? Was the other person also being compromised, or was he (she?) an actual traitor? Maybe it was more than one other person? How could this even be possible?
Avi again started to panic. Were his role in this duplicity revealed, he would be branded a traitor – independent of his pure motives. A traitor to the state, especially a member of the military, was subject to the possibility of execution. What was he thinking asking for money to be deposited in an offshore account? He did it so he and Mona could be free. Who would believe that? A forensics investigation of wired money and banking accounts would eventually lead to him.
As if a punishment from God for his lie to the General he could feel the blossoming of a whopper of a headache begin to express itself at the back of his skull, drilling its way to his eye sockets. The faux promise of aspirin and bed rest may yet come true. Avi was beginning to panic to the point that he'd gladly take a Valium over aspirin. Better yet he'd gladly down both, with a shot of something strong.
Settling for an aspirin with a glass of tepid tap water he went to bed, falling into an uneasy sleep.
In a crazy dream, Mona was talking to him – at least trying to. She was unable to formulate intelligent words. Instead her communication was the beeping sound unique to the cell phone he used to talk with her. Reality informed his emerging conscious mind that this wasn't simply a dream. He awoke to the third and final beep on his "Mona mobile phone." On the screen was a text message of just three words, "Picture of Mona."
Excitedly he opened the picture, eager to see her face. What filled the small screen was nothing short of revolting - to the point of surreal.
Table of Contents
14. Betrayal of Family
"We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst." - C. S. Lewis: A Mind Awake
Tehran, Islamic Republic of Iran
Mona was relieved to be returning to Tehran, once again to be with Ghasem Suleimani, the commander of the Quds Force of Iran's Revolutionary Guards. The trip through Europe and Turkey was long and, at times arduous. Moving through Turkey was especially difficult now that so many refugees from the Syrian civil war were flooding the borders into Turkey and refugee camps established there.
With tens of thousands of refugees entering into the country, tensions were increasing between the indigenous population of Turks and Syrians who were initially welcome but now were posing problems not least of which were medical, food, habitations, and criminal behavior concerns.
To make matters worse, Syria had just recently lobbed heavy artillery shells into Turkish territory. The Turks responded in kind. Everybody in Turkey was growing suspicious of Middle-Eastern foreigners in their country. This was a concern to Mona, trying to get to Iran via Turkey. Though her Turkish spoken language was acceptable, she was unable to suppress, convincingly, her Farsi accent. Trying to speak Turkish in any other accent just sounded foolish. Iran was supporting the Al al Fiyed regime in Syria. This marked Iranians in Turkey for added suspicions and sometimes overt hostility.
She was relieved to reach her homeland. Her life among the Zionist Entity was mentally and physically taxing. A devout Muslim woman of the Iranian culture, she gladly again wore the modest clothing that covered her from head-to-toe with just small openings for her eyes, with mesh covering the eye openings.
In due the men called for her to report to them. Mona made her way through the streets and crowds, walking past children begging for food. The western-imposed sanctions did nothing of note to curtail government research into nuclear bombs, but they were having a severe impact on the ordinary, innocent people of Iran. "That's okay," Mona was in a pensive mood, "soon the western world would be destitute and their own children dying of starvation – those who survived the initial attacks."
The walk was long, made all the more so due to the heat. She was unaccustomed to so much walking, being able to drive by herself or with others in her car in Israel. In Iran as well as other countries where strict Islam is observed it is forbidden for women to drive. Though she had to admit she'd miss the freedom of driving she realized restricting women from driving served a greater purpose, one that required an eternal perspective.
Something she heard in Israel sometimes crept into her thoughts: There was absolutely nothing in the Holy Qu'ran that stated that women had to have their faces covered in public. She knew the Qu'ran by heart and realized this was true. Still, a more thoughtful interpretation did allow for one to cover one's face so as to not tempt a man into sinning. Was this not admirable?
What westerners called Islamic radicalism she considered to be dedication to God. How can westerners judge what they have never truly taken the time to learn first-hand? Mona admired the women of her faith who followed the "spirit of the law" by strictly observing the "letter of the law." If all women around the world would accept modesty and religious limitations then there were be fewer divorces, far less adultery, an end to perversions, happy homes and families, strong and healthy children everywhere. She was glad, even rejoiced in donning the modest covering that hid her beauty from the eyes of the men around her - allowing them to return home to their wives with a clean conscience and pure thoughts.
At long last, she was in the outer office, gratefully accepting the water that was offered her. Nearly gulping it down, she received the offer of a second glass.
Through the mesh covering her eyes, she couldn't clearly see that the water was a little cloudy. She noticed a slightly acrid taste but thought nothing of it. Municipal water usually tasted different than bottled water.
Mona was asked to wait a few more minutes. She picked up a copy of Al Alam from the table in front of her, one of the main newspapers in Tehran. Scanning the first paragraph in the main story, she read the Supreme Leader of the Islamic Revolution, Ayatollah Seyyed Ali Khamenei announced that "Iran will not succumb to pressures being exerted on it by the hegemonic powers."
He made this statement Wednesday in an address to the nation's intellectual leadership in Tehran. "What day is today?" she wondered. Mona read on, eyelids sometimes closing briefly as the sounds around her picked up the semblance of being in a wind tunnel. She slightly shook her head to clear it. By the time she had reached the end of the article, half-read and less understood, she submitted to the exhaustion that completely overtook her. Mona reasoned to herself an excuse of the heat and the long travel to return home. No sooner had this thought drifted through what was left of her consciousness than she slipped into a dreamless sleep.
"She has been changed back into Western clothing and secured to a metal chair which is bolted to
the floor."
Mona heard these words as if through wads of cotton stuffed in her ears. Struggling to open her eyes through lead-weighted eyelashes she viewed another woman in the room. She was unable to identify the woman due to the head-to-floor burqa she was wearing. She thought she recognized the woman's voice as she spoke to somebody on the mobile phone, but couldn't precisely identify her. Given the deferential and self-effacing tone and manner, Mona correctly divined that she was speaking with a man.
Once she realized that she was in a seated position, unable to move her hands and feet, she snapped to full consciousness; struggling to make sense of her situation. Her torso was also strapped to the chair back in a way that she could barely breathe prohibiting her from yelling out in anger and frustration.
The woman speaking on the mobile phone had yet to see her awaken, as her back was to Mona while she continued the conversation. Survival instinct itself closed Mona's eyes, not tightly but delicately – as if she were sleeping. She calmed her breathing and relaxed her limbs as best she could, easing her body to as close a state of peaceful rest as she was able to muster. Mona knew it best that the unknown woman think she was still unconscious.
As the woman continued to speak, the full effect of the drug-induced haze finally lifting, Mona realized this was her sister speaking in the lowered voice that rendered a conspiratorial effect. She was here to rescue Mona! She must have been speaking with the police on the phone. It had to be; she would be okay.
Her sister Balour would have been aware of her return as they were both working for the same organization. As immersed and committed as she was to their righteous cause, her sister was even more so. As so many times during their childhood at play, Balour had searched and found her.
"Balour!"
"Mona, you are finally awake!"
"Help me get out of these constraints. We have to get back to the office, find Ghasem, let him know I'm okay, that you found me." Mona found it difficult to speak normally with her inability to take in a full breath.
"Mona, Ghasem knows where you are. In fact, he is on his way here already."
"Then find a knife for these ropes. I don't want Ghasem to see me in these clothes. How did you find me? How . . ."
"Mona, my dear sister. You do not understand. Ghasem ordered you changed back into your immodest clothing and bound. As your sister, I asked for the privilege of carrying out his orders. Don't you see it? Can't you understand? Yours will be the high honor of being one of the first martyrs to the cause. In a few days you will be in Paradise!"
"Balour, what are you talking about? A martyr? I'm here to be debriefed, in a few days I will be back among the Zionist entity, not Paradise."
"I will let Ghasem explain everything when he arrives."
"What do you mean, everything? Why are you using the word martyr?" Panic fused with her voice as fear tainted her beautiful face.
"Mona, you didn't really think you'd be allowed to carry out your mission among the Jew Monkeys indefinitely, did you?" Balour asked this with the sad smile of an older sister marveling at the naïveté of her younger sister.
It took more than a year for Balour to be absolutely certain that Mona could be introduced to the philosophy and work of this cause. It astounded her that she couldn't see clearly, could not understand her more complete and glorious role in bringing down the two Shaitans and the Jewish population centers elsewhere across the globe.
"Balour, yes I understand. I need to get back to No'am and Avi." Mona pleaded. "There is still a great deal of information they can provide us."
"Oh Mona, you really are still an innocent little child. They will provide information to be sure. They will, in fact, throw vast quantities of vital information our way without the slightest concern for self-preservation or national security - when they become witnesses to your torture!"
"What are you talking about!" Mona felt herself creeping toward hysteria as she considered her sister's willing complicity in this.
"Oh, you don't know, do you? The Bahá’í woman we used as your mother died from infection after her hand was cut off." Balour continued to explain, "Obviously we couldn't use a different woman in hopes that Avi and No'am would be duped into continuing to give us information. Even with the appearance of a similar-looking woman, we simply could not take the risk of either of man recognizing the deception. With your father in hiding outside of the country – he, by the way, was beheaded for not recanting his belief in that apostate religion, and your mother now dead, we had just the one course of action left to us."
"I see. Provide Avi and No'am a recording, or live feed, of my capture and staged torture to elicit more information from them." Mona's lowered, hopeful voice saddened Balour. Her sister wasn't as strong, perhaps not as committed, as she thought.
"No, dear. The torture will have to be real to be believable. I wish there had been a different way. I really do."
"Balour, there must be a different way." Mona accelerated her rate and intensity of pure panic as the full weight of the situation continued with dizzying speed. "I'm your sister!"
"Yes, and I have loved and looked after you all of your life. Don't you see? This is the final act of love I can offer you, helping you give the ultimate sacrifice for our glorious purposes."
"I will not allow this. I'll find a way to warn Avi. I'll not say whatever it is you expect of me." Anger crept into the feeling of panic. When Mona was angry one couldn't reason with her at all.
"We know that, my dear one. For this reason it has been decided by Ghasem that the very first incident of torture that Avi and No'am will witness will be your tongue ripped from your mouth. They will be told that it is because of the Zionist lies your tongue has spread to subvert our society. It will serve a dual purpose. No'am and Avi will realize the gravity and reality of the situation, and you will be unable to say anything to them."
"Ghasem can't possibly have come up with this. It's insane! My value to the cause will only be fully realized if I am to continue as I have been."
"No little one. I can assure you that Ghasem himself, along with Abd, reached this decision. Understand that we all are grateful for everything you have done. We know it has been difficult for you. Just think about it, soon it will be over and you will rest in glory. In Paradise you will be married to another martyr. Your story, after our victory, will be told to children throughout the world. Little girls will have posters of you on their walls! Little boys will look to you as an example of what women should be!"
"Balour, how can you talk like this? You are my sister!"
The door opened, Ghasem walking in with another man she didn't recognize. The stranger had a menacing look about him. He ignored both women, walked to a table and unburdened medical instruments from a satchel. Behind him two more men entered, also unknown to Mona.
With deft efficiency the latter two put together technical instruments. Recognizing the camera that would be used for an Internet feed Mona's thoughts turned to dark, horrible corridors in the recesses of her fevered mind. Thoughts she knew were just a beginning of the exquisite pain and terror that awaited her and the utter hopelessness of her situation.
Table of Contents
15. Heisenberg's Uncertainty
"The uncertainty of energy, times the uncertainty of time, is greater than or equal to a specific constant." – Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle
Kibbutz David Ben-Yisrael, State of Israel
After a quick dinner in the common dining area No'am went for a walk in the gardens of the kibbutz he had called home. Not that this was ever a serious goal.
Admiring the fruits and vegetables growing in the gardens, as well as the beautiful beds of flowers interspersed therein to attract bees and adorn the living spaces of the community, he started toward the area where fish were "farmed" for meals at the kibbutz, as well as for sale. The old-timers mostly did the latter as a holdover from a bygone era. The fact of the matter was his kibbutz, like nearly all others, made the successful bu
siness shift from an agricultural to a technological income quite a while back.
On his way to the fish farm he received a text from an unknown sender on the mobile phone used exclusively for communication with Mona. There were but three words to the text and an attached graphic file. The text simply read, "Picture of Mona."
No'am's heart leaped with joy. His thumb moved to the file icon and touched it to open. Looking, he was sure he didn't see it correctly, given the light from the sun on the screen. Holding his other hand up to shade the screen he looked more closely. The photograph on his screen was small, given the dimensions of the screen itself. Lack of visible details notwithstanding, he clearly saw Mona bound to a chair, a gag in her mouth. He could not be certain but it looked as if her eyes were red and puffy.
As he was contemplating the terrible implications of this photo the mobile phone alerted him to the fact that a second text message had just been delivered. He opened it with a shaking hand. It, too, was from an unknown sender. "View Video File at this precisely 13:00 hours, local time."
No'am rushed back to his room, ignoring greetings from several people he passed. In fact, he barely registered seeing or hearing them. His ears sounded like the pounding of ocean waves on a rock-strewn beach. It felt as if his heart was beating so furiously that it must break past his ribs and rip through the flesh of his chest.
His hand trembled to the point that he was just able to get the key to insert properly into the locked door to his living quarters. The third attempt proved successful. Flinging the door open and then slamming it behind him, he leaned against the door to regain his footing.
Making his way to his bed No'am was shaking, sick to his stomach.
Despite this fear-induced nausea, his scientific training took over. The person or persons who sent the texts had this phone number, a number that was known only to him and Mona. Yet they didn't use her mobile phone to make the contact. Was this important?
Mona told him that she was relocating, something she did a couple of times a year. During such times she would be out-of-touch. Where was she being held, in Israel or elsewhere? What about her parents, were they captive too?
While each was an important question in and of itself, there was no way to discover the answer from his room. With dread he opened the link. No'am used the kibbutz WiFi to connect to the Internet for personal business. Nothing from his work was to be found anywhere in his private life. Mona was only contacted via the mobile phone. He realized that such a small screen might conceal vital clues as to her location and condition.
1:00 pm, 13:00 hours military time, was just minutes away. No'am moved quickly to tether his laptop to his mobile phone, turning the phone he used with Mona into a hot spot. He couldn't risk utilizing the public access kibbutz WiFi.
Computer finally on and connected to the Internet, he returned to the text with the link to conduct a property search for the origin of the texts and link. Identifying the IP Address, he entered it into his computer. No sooner did the link connect than a screen came up showing a numeric countdown. Just over one minute left. It was impossible to find anything that would reveal the source and location in that short of time. Other than the screen and a freeze frame picture of her, the same photo sent to his phone, the screen was blank.
In the time that was left he thought about Mona and the situation now facing each of them. A Physicist, he could not help but frame any situation into a formula to try and make sense of it. He thought of the holy grail of Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle. Though it was meant to apply to the micro world it seemed to fit oddly well in this macro world too.
Δx Δp ≥ h-bar/2
In this situation, though, it wasn't the observation of mathematical inequalities in the Quantum Mechanics world but rather the observation and an attempt to understand a series of unknowns in his world. The application was wild at best, more pathetic than anything.
No'am hoped that whatever would shortly appear on his computer screen, he would be able to fill in some of the unknowns so that he could reach an answer to the math constant, the answer to this frightening equation of which Mona was the key component.
No laws of Physics: Particle, Theoretical, or otherwise, would have even the slightest application here. He was on his own with no life experience tools he could use, nobody in whom he could confide, to extricate her from . . .
Audio and video feeds pierced his thoughts. Mona was gagged, crying. A man appeared in the feed instructing No'am to send him a single-worded text to Mona's phone. He sent: where
He could hear her mobile phone beep in the background of the video. Seconds later he thought he heard a second incoming message alert. Then he heard, and saw, the man in the video plucking a word or words out on the mobile. Shortly thereafter, he received a text from her phone that read, "It doesn't matter, just watch." After receiving the response, he saw the man type a second text message, but it wasn't transmitted to him. Deducing that the live feed was being transmitted to somebody else, possibly another unwilling witness, No'am instantly pushed this thought from his mind.
"I've got to stay focused." If he let his mind wander with conjecture No'am knew he might miss something important, some clue that might help Mona.
The man in the video positioned himself between the camera and Mona. Looking straight into the camera, he felt as if the menace could actually see him.
The man finally spoke, "That little exercise demonstrates this is a live feed, not prerecorded. Your slut girlfriend, Mona, is an enemy to Islam and all of humanity. She spreads the lies of the Zionist entity, seeking to steal the hearts and minds of the true believers. Her lies will be silenced. No longer will this serpent, this agent of the Jew devils, be allowed to speak."
"She has been given an injection with a compound that has temporarily paralyzed her so that we will not have to hear one more filthy word from this Zionist spy. She can see, hear and feel absolutely everything. We want you to see how we permanently silence those who would corrupt and destroy with their wicked tongues." He continued, "I must advise you to not avert your eyes. If you don't witness our actions as they occur, the severity of our anger will be visited on your prostitute many times more. Any additional pain will be as if from your own hands. Now activate your web cam so that we can confirm a captive audience."
As No'am activated his camera he could view the live video feed of himself on the lower right-hand quadrant of the screen. Her captor indicated that he had a visual on No'am, this also meant that they could hack into his computer if they desired.
Access to his computer was cause for alarm. Almost as alarming was the fact that the man in the video spoke to him in Hebrew with an Ashkenazi accent, then spoke to somebody behind the camera in Farsi, and finally sent the phone texts in English.
Obviously highly educated, he most likely spent a great deal of time in Israel to speak so flawlessly. Was he Israeli, Iranian, American or British? No'am could not rule out the less likely possibilities of Australian, New Zealander, or a citizen of another English-language country. He couldn't rule out the distinct possibility that none of these countries nurtured him in childhood. The only certainty was that his education was well above the average citizen of any country and was most likely a sociopath. Either of the two alone being dangerous, the combination was deadly.
At that moment a woman opened Mona's mouth and held it pried open with some tool that appeared to be dental in nature. Another man, previously hidden from view, came forward and inserted some kind of tool into Mona's mouth, loudly cracking the tool against her teeth with no apparent concern. No'am audibly groaned as he realized that they were going to pull her teeth.
What happened next caused him to vomit where he sat. The grotesque tool in her mouth found its target, synchronized with the slight smile spread on the face of the man who employed it. With a thick, liquid-like sound, he clamped down and pulled. Red muscle came out of her mouth, as her eyes grew wide and then shut from a loss of consciousness. No'am was witness to th
e horrific reality that Mona's tongue was pulled from her mouth without any anesthesia to dull intractable pain.
No'am sat with his own mouth agape, lips searching to form a word or by default a scream. Nearly catatonic from the shock of what he saw, he was unable to move, unable to coalesce any thought that resembled the product of a logical mind. What he had been forced to watch defied logic, reason, humanity.
Fear elevated to hysteria as the man said something to the camera as the screen went blank. NorAm's mind began to shut down as he tried to come to grips with what he just experienced. Hysteria seized his emptied stomach, all neurons of his brain triggering at once, clamoring for attention. He felt himself seem to fall as everything went dark.