The Red Alerts pinged on Nicole’s phone app to the point of distraction. She pressed the mute button to silence the notifications. But in the semidarkness, the banners at the top of her phone screen kept flashing brightly. Flipping the phone over, she slid it to a corner of her desk.
As she worked, she thought back to October 7. The repeating tones from Red Alert had awakened her from a deep sleep in her bed in Milan. Rolling under the sheets toward the nightstand, she had grabbed her phone and was shocked at the number of notifications she had received. Dozens and dozens of Red Alert banners were layered on her lock screen. Reaching around more on the nightstand, she had found the television remote. The news had only the most basic information, but it was obvious that something very bad was happening in Israel. She had dialed Nir’s number, but her calls had gone to his voicemail.
She had spent the morning sitting in bed, flipping from one news station to another. Never had she felt so helpless, so worthless. Her adopted family was under attack, and all she could do was watch from her luxurious apartment on the other side of the Mediterranean Sea. It was that day that she had determined to never again, as much as she could help it, be away from her second home when there was something she might be able to do to help.
Now the alerts were going off again, but this time she was in the right place at the right time. Unfortunately, she still felt helpless. Looking for a laser that wasn’t lasering was like trying to find a white Lego in a stadium full of white Legos. The only chance anyone had of finding the one they were looking for was when it started glowing green or red or blue or whatever. And even then, a person could be on the lower section of the west side of the stadium while one tiny Lego started glowing in the upper section of the east side. How could someone possibly cover that distance in time to stop it before it does its lasery thing?
Still, she kept scanning the waters, hoping that some idiot on board a boat would think, Hey, what does this switch do? and accidentally turn it on.
Lahav suddenly called out. “Drones have started leaving the building. First wave has twenty, five from each building. The good news is that they’ve given me a signal range for the drones. I’ve been able to determine their frequency and signature so that we can recognize it when it’s sent out.”
“Send that to every analyst in the building,” said the ramsad. “How long until our jets get there?”
“Another twelve minutes,” answered Yariv. “A second wave of UAVs is now departing the warehouses.”
Seconds later, Nicole got a ping and saw a message on her screen from Lahav. She copied down the numbers and honed in her search parameters.
“Great work, Lahav,” she called out. “What’s the time gap between waves?”
“I’ve got two minutes. Check me, Lahav,” said Yariv.
“Two minutes. Check.”
A phone on the conference table rang. Nicole heard the ramsad pick it up and answer, but he was speaking too low for her to make out the words. Then he spoke one less-than-pleasant word that was loud enough for everyone to hear. Nicole cringed.
“Le Roux,” called the ramsad.
Hesitantly, Nicole turned her chair.
The old man’s face was red. “It seems your boyfriend has managed to kill another of his hostages. Breaking Turkish media is saying that Israel has infiltrated the country and assassinated the defense minister by throwing him out of a moving vehicle.”
Nicole didn’t know what to say. “That doesn’t sound…”
“Of course it doesn’t sound like what Tavor would do. I have no idea what happened, but it certainly wasn’t that. But there is more to what the media said. It informed the public that two Israeli agents exited the vehicle with the defense minister’s body, and they are on the run. I have no doubt that your boyfriend is one of those who are now running wild through the streets of Ankara.”
Nicole fought the urge to correct the ramsad’s constant use of the descriptor boyfriend. It was probably best to let the man vent. Besides, maybe his word choice was accurate.
“Did they give any updates on the fugitives?”
The ramsad snorted derisively. “We probably won’t get any reliable details on those two until they are either arrested or dead.”
Those words hit like a rock in her gut. She turned back around and began scanning her screens again. Less than a minute later, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She could tell by the small thatches of gray hair on the fingers that it belonged to the ramsad.
“Apologies from a gruff old man. But honestly, I hope that it’s Nir out there on the streets. There is absolutely no one in Kidon that I would trust more to get himself out of this kind of jam than that man.”
Nicole’s eyes welled up. Without looking up, she placed her hand on his for a moment. Then she got back to work. After a few seconds of lingering, the hand left her shoulder.
Nir is going to make it back. He always does. He’s like James Bond or Arnold Schwarzenegger or someone like that. No matter what situation they get in, they always find a way out.
“I’ve got a hit,” called out Lahav. “A laser with the exact signature is beaming northward off a boat due south of Limassol, Cyprus. Latitude is 34.2240392; longitude, 33.1356642. He just turned the beam on.” Lahav paused a moment, then added, “The IAF is sending two jets that direction.”
If those jets can blow up that boat, that may take care of this whole situation. With no daisy-chain signal, the UAVs will have no target. Erdoğan’s entire drone army will plunge into the sea.
Just in case, though, Nicole kept scanning the waters of the eastern Mediterranean.