FIVE DAYS LATER
MOSSAD HEADQUARTERS, TEL AVIV, ISRAEL—NOVEMBER 30, 2020—09:10 / 9:10 A.M. IDT
Meeting in five,” Nir said as he walked into his team’s workroom.
“Yesh! He’s back,” Liora shouted, jumping from her chair and running toward him. Dafna followed her, as did Yossi, while a smiling Nicole remained at her workstation. After a couple of hugs and a fist bump, Nir took the long way to his office, starting to the left rather than to the right.
The workroom for his analysts was large and open. He passed three empty desks no one used right now, then came to Nicole’s extremely clean and organized area with its numerous keyboards and monitors. These were the tools she used to break into the supposedly impenetrable systems of various governments, satellites, commercial enterprises, and private citizens. He touched her shoulder, and she touched his hand.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
Next he came to where Liora and Dafna had pushed their workstations together, creating an oversized electronics mass that constantly flashed and beeped and whirred as they analyzed thousands of images from satellites and cameras every day. He had no clue what at least half the machines did or how they worked. He just knew these two Millennials were the best he’d ever seen at digging through tons of visual coal to find a hidden diamond.
Next was Yossi, whose board shorts, tank top, and flip-flops went well with his oversized beard and man-bun. His intel analysis was unparalleled in Mossad headquarters, especially now that Nicole had given him access to the computer systems of most of the world’s leading intelligence services.
Nir pointed to one of the monitors. “What’s that?”
“Haleiwa Surf Challenger. North Shore Oahu. They’ve got some gnarly barrels and closeout bombs. Bucket list, man.”
“Find me someone nasty to bump off there, and I’ll bring you along.”
“P’tsatsa,” Yossi said with a grin.
Finally, Nir came to Lahav’s dark workstation decorated in Star Wars chic, complete with hanging TIE fighters and that full-sized Chewbacca who had seen better days. By the time they’d arrived home, it was obvious the young analyst was truly shaken. Nir had given him a week off and ordered him to two sessions with one of the in-house counselors.
Reaching into his bag, Nir pulled out a ball cap. The team traded off putting hats on the Wookie. The one Nir placed on his head now read Erbil Beach Club.
Nir looked into his office and saw a stack of papers that needed his attention. Instead of walking in, though, he closed the door and took his seat at the head of the conference table.
“Okay, bring it in,” he called out.
“We still have two minutes,” Liora said. She was rapidly typing on one of several keyboards on her desk.
“Did I say five minutes? I meant three, which means”—Nir looked at his watch—“it’s time.”
Liora gave an exasperated sigh and pushed the keyboard away. Before rising, though, she pulled open a file drawer, then brought out a large metal bowl and plunked it on her desk. Then she lifted out a very large bag of Skittles, which she tore open before noisily emptying it into the bowl.
All the while, she was mumbling, “They give you work to do. Then you can’t get it done because they fill your day with stupid meetings all the time.” Walking to the table, she slid the bowl to the middle.
“You okay?” Nir asked.
“I’m good.”
“You sure? Because you seem a little unhappy.”
“I’m sure.”
“You know, we don’t need a snack every time we meet.”
“Okay, Boomer.”
“Boomer? How old do you think I am?”
“Age is not a number; it’s an attitude,” she said, snatching a handful of candies. She held one up to throw to him.
He glared at her, but she wouldn’t put the candy down. The rest of the team arrived at the table and saw the standoff.
“Nir! Nir! Nir! Nir!” they chanted.
Even Nicole had joined in. With a sigh, he opened his mouth.
Liora threw the candy, and it bounced off a front tooth and skittered across the table to the floor. Sounds of disappointment filled the room.
“That one is on you and your big old buck teeth,” Liora said.
“What? I don’t—” Wait. Was she grinning at him?
“You are so easy.”
There were nods of agreement around the table, and he could hear Nicole say, “It’s true.”
Shaking his head, he said, “First, I want to thank you guys. And that’s not just from me but from all the ops team. We wouldn’t have made it out of there without you.”
“Well, we would have missed Lahav,” Dafna said with a smile.
“Liar.” Yet Nir had to admit that, as irritating as the man could be, Lahav had garnered his respect in Iran.
“Let’s get right to it. Despite the fact that I didn’t blow up the robotic gun and almost got my team killed, the ramsad has okayed our continuing to develop the plan for our killer art.”
Cheers sounded around the table.
“We need an update from you, Nicole, and then we have to do some serious brainstorming. First, though, I want to give you all our mission name.”
All four analysts drum rolled the table with their hands.
“Operation Bezalel.”
Three of the analysts hit their imaginary cymbals with great flourish, while Nicole said, “Huh?”
“I got this,” Yossi said. “Listen, my New-Testament-reading Gentile sister. In Exodus, when God told Moses to build the tabernacle and the ark of the covenant, He gave him an artist with the skills to make it beautiful. That man was named Bezalel.”
“I read the Old Testament too,” Nicole said.
Nir raised his hand. “Okay, I’m going to veto that tangent, Nicole. Instead, why don’t you fill us in on where we are with the marketing for the paintings we’ll need for our newly christened Operation Bezalel?”
“Just because I haven’t memorized the name of every old guy out of Exodus doesn’t mean I don’t read the Old Testament,” Nicole muttered as she spread out some notes on the table. Looking up, she said, “Yossi, remote.”
He obliged. Nicole pressed a button, and a photo appeared on the screen.
“This is Alicia Marcos. As you know, she’s our artist, and she lives in Houston, Texas.”
“Yee-haw,” Liora said with a laugh.
“That’s a stereotype, but whatever.”
The mood in the room changed in an instant. Nir hadn’t seen snippy Nicole in quite a while. Not since before her big spiritual change. Judging by the way the rest of the team was looking down at the table, they hadn’t seen it either. He was about to say something, but he saw her staring down at her hands. He knew exactly what she was doing, because he’d been around her other times when she was silently praying.
After a moment, she looked up and said, “I’m sorry, Liora. And the same goes to the rest of you. I’ve been running so hard and not getting enough sleep. But those are just excuses. There’s no reason to have snapped at you.”
But Nir knew there was a reason. She’d been embarrassed at being the only one who didn’t know the name Bezalel. It was tough being the only Gentile on a team full of Jews, all of whom had the Torah taught to them since before they were old enough to listen. But it was more. She was new in her faith and didn’t know all she wanted to know. If she couldn’t remember a Bible verse or come up with an answer to a question, she seemed to feel she was letting God down.
Dafna reached over and took hold of her arm. “We all have days like that, girl. No harm, no foul.”
Liora and Yossi quickly agreed, and Nir smiled some encouragement toward her.
Nicole did a quick mascara-saving eye dab with her index fingers, and said, “Skittle me?”
“You bet!” Liora pulled a red candy out of her pile and tossed a bull’s-eye right into Nicole’s mouth. Turning to Nir, the Millennial said, “That’s how it’s done, Bucky.”
Nir shook his head.
Nicole picked up her report. “So with the help of some of Nir’s friends in Antwerp, Alicia and I were able to put together an amazing marketing packet.” The picture changed to show the canvas envelope, sample mini-art piece, and the cover of the brochure.
“Achla, Nicole. You should be a model or something,” Yossi said. The rest of the team added their affirmation.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, we seeded the market with three free paintings given to rich guys who promised to get the word around. And they did. We sent fifty packets to owners of mega yachts, and we’ve heard back from twenty-two.”
“How many of those fifty were on our bad guy list, and how many of them responded?” Nir asked.
“Thirty bad guys. Eight have responded.”
“Not bad, not bad. In fact, pretty good.” His excitement for this operation was building. “What’s next?”
“Next is selling. I’ve had my agent hold any modeling bookings for now, and Alicia and I are making sales calls. We’ve met with six yacht owners so far, two of them bad guys, and one has purchased two paintings. The guys back in Alicia’s workshop are starting work on his order.”
“Who’s the purchaser?” asked Dafna.
“Khalid Al Kooheji, a Bahraini oil guy who’s been funneling money into Palestinian weapons for about a decade. Let me tell you, that guy was a pig. Beautiful boat, really bad manners.”
Nir felt a twinge of protectiveness and maybe a bit of jealousy. He put it out of his mind, though. Nicole had proven she could take care of herself. He had already learned the hard way what being over-protective could get him.
“Great work. What’s next?”
“Alicia is leaving Houston tomorrow for Dubai. I’ll meet her there, and then we have a few sales meetings lined up.”
“Wining and dining on yachts worth tens of millions of dollars. Sure you don’t need a short brunette to tag along?” Liora asked.
“Wish I did. I’d love to have the both of you,” Nicole said, including Dafna.
“Okay, last agenda item,” Nir said. “And it’s kind of a biggie. We’ve got the paintings. We’ve got bad guys buying the paintings. Now, how do we get explosives into the paintings before they’re shipped to their new owners?”
Like air leaving a balloon, the enthusiasm in the room died.
Yossi spoke. “Okay, so you were basing this whole idea off Natanz and the explosives planted in the building materials. What about doing the same kind of thing and putting it in the frames?”
“Unfortunately, the success at Natanz has ensured we can never pull off another Natanz. The frames will most certainly be checked by the yacht owners’ security teams well before they’re ever allowed on the boat.”
“What about the paint?” Dafna asked. “I know we’ve done work with liquid explosives.”
Nicole answered this time. “Another good thought. But like a lot of artists, Alicia mixes her own paints. And she’s not in on this.”
The minutes went by as one idea after another was presented and shot down.
Then a smile spread across Liora’s face. “How much does one of Alicia’s paintings weigh?”
“I have no idea,” Nicole said, then turning to Nir, “Do you?”
“No. But she uses cement along with other substances, so I’m sure they’re heavy.”
“So you’ve both seen the paintings up close. Still, you have no idea what they weigh. What about how thick they are?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Nicole said, using her hands to demonstrate a range of width.
Liora was almost bouncing in her seat. “But you have no idea exactly, do you? Okay, here it is. On the back of each painting we lay a sheet of explosives. We can do sheets of explosives, right?”
She looked at Nir, who nodded his affirmation.
“Achla! So, then, over the explosives we lay a false back made out of the same material as the rest of the painting.”
“Sababa,” Dafna said. “No one will notice the extra weight, because no one knows how much one of her paintings is supposed to weigh.”
“What about the detonator?” Yossi had a handful of Skittles, and he tossed one at each of the three women, who all caught them in their mouths.
Liora chewed, then said, “We make the false back thick enough to allow a small cutout for the detonator, but still thin enough to only add minimal variable in the weight. Because of the type of materials, I would guess that there is no standard weight for the paintings. You can get all sneaky and make sure of that, Nicole.”
“Definitely, but it makes sense,” Nicole answered. “Alicia has said to me that it’s not a science. ‘I’m an artist, not a physicist’ is the way she puts it.”
“What about a seam?” Nir asked. “Like on the edge that will show the layers.”
Again, it was Nicole who answered. “There won’t be a seam. Alicia told me she’s had problems with deterioration on the edges. Also, a couple of times corners have been chipped in moving the paintings. So now she has her team put a thick epoxy around the rim.”
Nir thought for a moment, then said, “Liora, I think you’ve come up with a brilliant idea. But we still have one big question. How in the world will we get all that—sheets of explosives, a false cement back, and a detonator—on Alicia’s paintings? Do you have that problem solved too?”
Liora smiled as she emptied a fistful of candies into her mouth. As she chewed, she managed to say, “I have no idea, Mr. Kidon Agent. That’s your job, right?”