Tel-Aviv North – Mossad Headquarters, Tuesday 16th August 2005
Jacob Weizmann was sitting at his computer as usual in the Mossad specialist analyst department referred to as PAHA. Above his thick blond eyebrows was a broad forehead – well creased by the continuous information overload his brain was confronted with daily. He had a strong, attenuated, aristocratic nose and a mouth that curved upwards in a natural grin. His chin was formed like a ledge of granite. A broad back protruded over the rear of the chair and when he stood up, his two metres five dominated the room. Due to his blond hair and blue eyes, he was given the nickname Northman. For some time now he’s been showing signs of continuous nervousness. Some reckon his wife is the main cause.
Jacob guessed he married only because they don’t let you into the Mossad unless you are married. On the other hand that’s only half the truth. It was really his wife who persuaded him to join. He’d just finished university with a cum laude doctorate in computer science. At the time she was a young secretary, one of three who were working for Ben Israel, the Mossad chief in 1995. His wife, Sarah Gurion had famous relatives, so maybe there was some back scratching done. Jacob sensed she was using him somehow. He realized on their first night together she was something special in bed. Jewish women are known for being very sexy and extremely active in bed, but she really beat them all. As time went by and her cravings increased, he became ill. The doctor sent him on a health cure for four weeks to the Dead Sea, where he managed to get back to his senses. From then on, he did try for some weeks to douse her sexual appetite. He gave up eventually. She was the one who had a problem, he told her – she was definitely oversexed. He called her a nympho-maniac – didn’t seem to upset her at all. After that, there was just sex every two days instead of five times a day. He told her he couldn’t carry out his work otherwise. The whole marriage was insecure from his point of view. Amazingly, she waved his arguments aside and remained the sweet person she always was. He left it at that, but a nagging question mark remained thereafter – whom was she doing it with right now?
Something worse than being married to a nympho has been worrying him since August 2001, keeping his mind occupied – his thoughts in turmoil – his conscience twisted – his memory of the incident repeatedly cart-wheeling back to that day:
‘Hey, Northman! You doing some thinking about our decrypting or are you having a nap?’ the voice of his superior had bellowed into his ear.
He recalled the incident vividly. It was one of those days in August 2001 when he’d been popping his wife half the night before. He’d deciphered an important message sent by one of his own Mossad Signal Intelligence Units. He also received a copy of an NSA message bearing similarities – apparently information the Mossad Communications Department had missed out on.
‘You stupid idiot Abraham’, he’d answered, ‘it make you do that again I’ll punch you so hard you won’t be in any position to a complaint. You bloody well know that can damage anyone’s eardrums for good. Come to think of it, if anybody puts a complaint in, then it’ll be me. Now what the hell do you want disturbing my precious thoughts?’
‘The big boss says you should take a look at this, before you write your encryption conclusions, and it’s your eyes only the boss says, so you’ve got to sign for it and make sure you don’t let anyone else see it otherwise you’ll have a Mossad annihilation team on your tail. He wants it done straight away.’
He gave Jacob a big envelope with Top Secret written on it and a big red cross across front and back from corner to corner and handed him a registry book. Jacob signed the book and went into a secure room, taking the envelope and his encryptions with him – Abraham, his direct superior, walked away shaking his head.
Jacob had already deciphered his own two messages, one was from Hamburg, Germany and the other was from Jalalabad, Pakistan. The first message from Hamburg was plain,
See you on the eleventh and don’t forget, all five packages go par Avion to the addressees we agreed on.
So God will (Allah inshaalah)
The second message he deciphered was a bit odd,
Our destination has changed. The first two groups are now to go to twin peaks. The rest as agreed. All packages par Avion.
God is great (Allahu akbar)
His task was only to decipher, thank goodness. Let others do the rest. He opened the Top Secret envelope and took out a single sheet of white paper that would change the face of the Western world and turn him into a nervous wreck.