Chapter 1
Tarek kept looking at the video wall in the living room of Valerio’s flat in Dubai. The screen was tuned to the security camera feeds, which had replayed the arrival of a big limo. Two figures were dropped off, and went through the metal detectors at the guarded entrance. They were then allowed in the building by the bellman. A few minutes later, Valerio opened the door of his flat, warmly greeting Helena and Louis, who had just landed from Brazil. They entered the vast living room, and gazed through the windows at the illuminated islands of the Jebel Ali Palm that were glowing on the Gulf waters. Tarek nonchalantly waved to them from the couch, without bothering to stand up or to put down the glass of vodka he was sipping.
"Wow I was expecting a warmer greeting considering we have not met in person for years," Louis thought, “I hope that Helena does not resent it too much, for sure she has noticed.”
"I thought you were living in a villa on the Palm Island," Louis said to Valerio, trying to chill out.
"I am," responded Valerio, "I use this penthouse when I have to impress customers and make sure the conversation is confidential. Tarek's team regularly checks that the place does not get bugged. As we are on the top floor of the tallest building in the area, there is no chance of being videotaped."
"Alright, gentlemen," Tarek groaned, slowly standing up from the couch, "you can have a tour of the house later on, can we please just sit down and talk? I need to be back in Abu Dhabi tonight, and I do not like late night trips at all. The highway is full of idiots that use it as a racetrack to test their new Ferraris and Porsches."
"I am so sorry, Tarek," Helena commented sarcastically, "you might have a one-hour drive back home, but we just got off a plane after a twenty-hour flight, and won't be back home before spending another day in this huge sandbox."
Valerio frowned at Tarek, who suddenly understood and apologized.
"Um, Helena, I am sorry, it's just that I am a bit nervous. I was thinking about the last time we met here in the Emirates, in the middle of the desert, more than ten years ago. We felt things were taking a dangerous turn, and tried to put up a new strategy. Now the strategy has largely failed, and George has paid with his life."
"How are you so sure that George was killed? The coroner eventually claimed it was a stroke," Louis said. "We know this for sure, because Valerio saw the results in person, thanks to his colleague in the local press."
"I have no conclusive evidence, just pieces that together make a plausible picture," Tarek rebuffed. "First, we know that George was in trouble with his new colleagues at Ambrosiax, and also his old friend, Skip Ross, who in the meantime has become director of the CIA. At least, that’s what he told Valerio." Tarek paused, and looked for some sign of confirmation from Valerio, who instead kept silent, with his eyes fixed on his glass of whiskey.
"Second," Tarek continued, "I have just received evidence from the Iranians that the Israelis have developed a new weapon, a biological drone, which is being used for selective murdering. It is basically a fly wired to a microchip that releases a toxin when it hits its target. The Mossad has been using it for a while in Gaza and Lebanon, but the Iranians have eventually figured it out. The effects are very similar to what we saw in the case of George. We all know that the Mossad and the CIA used to cooperate. So we just need to find out who actually carried out George’s murder and why."
"It is not enough," Helena objected, "as much as I want my revenge, I need solid evidence. Are we sure he was killed by this toxin? We will never know, the body has been cremated. As for the cooperation between the Mossad and the CIA, we have experienced all too well the opposite."
"Ok, I admit the evidence is not rock solid. But at least it is a lead. Let me also add the last piece; I know some people in the Russian secret service hated George. They thought he was responsible for Rasim's death, and they might have decided to retaliate."
"Is this what they thought on their own, or what you told them, Tarek?" Louis basked bluntly, "Sorry for being direct, but after forty years of living together I am becoming a bit like Dora. I hate bullshitting, especially among us. We should have learned something from our mistakes."
Tarek lowered his eyes to the vodka glass again, waited a few moments to collect the right words, then whispered, "they came to me asking if I knew something more about the exact circumstances of Rasim's ambush. As I needed their help, I gave them all the information I had. You have to know that the local head of the Russian secret service, at the time, was a woman. She might have had a relation with Rasim, this I do not know for sure, as Rasim was very reserved. But if it were true, it might add yet another reason. You know what I mean, Helena.”
Tarek concluded, moving his eyes from the empty glass to Helena. She did not react to the remark, and plainly added, “alright, Tarek, you started by blaming the Mossad, and you end up with three possible options, of which none is credible enough. Anyway, even if one was more plausible than the others, what could we do? Declare war on the Mossad? Attack the Lubjanka building in Moscow? Or just kidnap Skip Ross and waterboard him until he confesses all he knows? We are just so weak…” Helena’s voice subsided, as she stretched out on the couch.
Louis was pleasantly surprised that she was starting to give up on her revenge goals. He was also surprised to find himself admiring her slim and fit figure, and he wondered why he had not yet noticed that in the past several years. He was still lost in his thoughts when the voice of Valerio brought him back to the meeting.
“I think Helena got the point, we are weak,” Valerio summarized, “and it might well be that we are the next in line after George. That’s why we have to know exactly what is behind the death of George, be it murder or not. The problem is who to ask, and why should they help us, as we have nothing to offer in return. Knowledge about Telomerax is no longer our monopoly.”
“Yes, Telomerax is no longer ours, or at least not only ours,” Tarek continued, “however, we might still have some leverage with the Israeli friends of Louis.”
As he finished the sentence, the Egyptian placed a tiny box on the table. Louis understood immediately.
“It is one of the modified flies, isn’t it?” he asked Tarek.
“That’s why I insisted to have you here in person,” Tarek promptly answered. “I promised my counterpart in Teheran some help, and we can use this with the Mossad. I am sure that your contacts in Tel Aviv do not want the Iranians to understand exactly how their new weapon works. We can help them drive the investigation in the wrong direction, at least for a while, if they help us with the case of George.”
“Hang on, you are driving me crazy now,” Helena scoffed.
“First, you start blaming George’s death on the Mossad. Now, you end by proposing to ask them for help? Or am I just misunderstanding due to jet lag?”
Tarek bowed slightly towards Helena, and he responded with the sweetest tone he could manage,
“No, that’s my fault, I wasn’t clear. It’s quite complicated to understand, even with our superintelligence…” he paused to smile then continued, “actually, I believe the Mossad is involved in George’s death, but most likely they are not the culprit. Even if they were, it must have been something between them and George alone, this I am quite sure about. Think about it, Helena. They have been guaranteeing your security in Brazil for more than five years, if something had changed in their mind we would have found out the hard way. Yet it seems the deal is still holding, as far as Louis, Dora and you are concerned. However, I have a feeling that the weapon is theirs, so they know something.”
“So how can we persuade them to tell us? By letting them know we have stolen the secret of their fly?” quipped Louis, “I do not think they like being blackmailed.”
“No, we won’t tell them this,” Tarek answered, “we will just let them know that the Iranians have approached us asking for help in studying the new bug, and we propose to help them in derailing the Iranian research if they help us find out more about George. We won’t te
ll them we have a full sample in our hands. We will only show them documents received from the Iranian secret service. In the meantime, we will carry out our own analysis. I am sure we will find plenty of interesting things. Louis, you are the only one that can do this in our team.”
“I suppose you do not want the rest of the fly to leave the country, right?” Louis concluded. “Looks like I will start logging airline miles again. Aside from the risks associated to air travel, I do not understand why you think I am essential to the research. It looks more like a robotics subject than a biochemistry one.”
Tarek turned his eyes to Valerio, who responded at his place. “What I think Tarek means, is that there is not only the need to explain how the microchip and its functions work. The biggest secrets might actually lie in any bioengineering done on the fly. That’s why we need the most capable biochemical engineer on Earth to lead the team.”
“They really behave like brothers,” Louis thought. He surrendered.
“Alright, I volunteer for the new mission, without even asking for the permission from Dora. I am sure she will agree.”
He glanced quickly at the audience, Valerio winked, Tarek raised his glass of vodka in approval, and Helena gave him a pat on his back.