With one last look at Everett, the future alpha male of the flock jumped into the bush and quickly vanished, but not before it hurriedly snatched Carl’s prized rabbit from the ground.
“Hey!”
All he heard was the crashing of the large redheaded rooster as it made off with his lunch.
The knock sounded lightly upon the ornate double doors.
“Madam, I have news from Jerusalem.”
The clearing of her throat and then the eerie silence from the darkened room meant that his employer had indeed heard what he said. The man swallowed when the twin doors slowly opened. Before they swung completely open he saw the interior lights slowly fade as they were dimmed. He heard the motorized chair as it left the doorway. He stepped inside. He saw the still frame on the large-screen television of Clark Gable’s backside as he left Atlanta for the last time in the film Gone with the Wind. He saw her as she motored around her desk, shutting down the film by remote control as she did. The desk lamp was off and he could only see the outline of darkness against the drawn shades. She was silent as he stepped into the large study and then turned and pulled the doors closed behind him. His employer was patient as she waited.
“I always stop the film at this spot anyway. I can never stand to hear Vivien Leigh say those damnable words, ‘After all, tomorrow is another day!’ Such a foolish girl saying something some hack wrote in a book. Not very realistic by literary or even Hollywood standards.”
“Yes, Madam, very unrealistic,” the man said, facing her as he stood in front of the large desk. He saw her elegant hand reach for the ornate box on her desk and then she pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The smoke clouded the man’s view even further. “Our contact in Jerusalem reports that the Mossad may have leaked your file to an outside source.”
There was silence as the woman in the darkness smoked and listened. He became uncomfortable during the drawn-out silence. Finally he could see her silhouette as she placed the cigarette in an ashtray.
“I thought we hadn’t any more contacts in the government?”
“He reported out of loyalty, even though he has not been paid in over five years. He said he owed you for past services.”
“A kind euphemism for past bribes. Well, if it eases his conscience, who am I to argue?” Again she retrieved her cigarette and smoked.
“We haven’t the contacts to pursue any intelligence on who received the file. We won’t know who has it until someone comes knocking on the door.”
“The Mossad has little interest in me any longer. They couldn’t get any information from me for seventy years, so perhaps they have contracted out for their intelligence gathering.”
“You know the Mossad doesn’t contract out to anyone. I have been informed by that same asset that is so loyal to you that a General Shamni, head of the Israeli intelligence service, has been sacked by the prime minister. The rumor is he allowed an intelligence asset important to the state to flee the country.”
“Sounds like our little secret may have leaked out somehow. And all this time I thought they and others had forgotten about us.” She placed the cigarette down into the ashtray once more and then switched on the lamp that sat on the desk’s polished top.
The man saw her clearly in the light. The ornate motorized wheelchair moved and she came from around her desk. She stopped in front of the tall man. Her hair was gray and came to her shoulders and she wore a black mourning dress as she always did. The sleeves were long and her hands were as elegant as ever. He avoided looking at the crooked legs that angled to the right as she sat in her chair. Her face was lined but in the beautiful softness few ladies of her age ever possess. She reached out and took his large hand into hers.
“Alert all of our children and tell them to be aware of busybodies looking for a story.” She patted his hand and looked into his brown eyes. He nodded as he knew they hadn’t the funds to do anything outside of warning the family that they might have been discovered. They were helpless before the powers that had their information. He covered her petite hand with his own and then his eyes fell on the tattooed number on her white fleshy forearm where the sleeve failed to cover it. The tattoo had not faded with age: 674392. She smiled, removed her hand, and motored back to her desk and then smoked as she watched him. She slowly reached out and turned off the desk lamp. “I’m in the mood for a musical. All of this drama has drained me.”
“Yes, Madam,” he said as he started to turn away.
“Julien, tell the children not to be frightened by this. Remind them all they have been through worse.”
“I will, Madam,” he said as he opened the double doors and then left her study. He paused as he made sure the doors were closed as he heard the video player start once more. This time it sounded like Fred Astaire singing an opening number.
The man stepped away and then pulled up his coat’s sleeve and saw his own numbered tattoo and sighed. He lowered the sleeve and then went to make 236 phone calls.
The children of the Traveler had to be alerted.
Jack waited with Niles Compton inside the conference room. They were alone for the moment.
“When and if we find who we are looking for, that’s when the expenditures of manpower and funding will be noticeable. I figure we’ll need the full one-hundred-hour grace period the president promised. I figure we’ll be stepping on the toes of more than just one agency here. We could possibly make enemies for the president without him even knowing we made them.”
“At least for a hundred hours,” Compton countered. “Look, Jack, if we get this one chance at getting Carl home I’m willing to alienate far more than just my best friend, I’m willing to put my career on the line.”
“This is the wildest long shot we’ve ever taken, a Hail Mary without much hope the ball will ever come down. But it’s the only shot we have. All other areas of investigation have run into a brick wall. Other than the alien technology we no longer have access to, we have nothing other than this Traveler story we have yet to even confirm.”
Niles took a deep breath and then fixed Jack with his one-eyed gaze. “Anya seems convinced that the Mossad believed the tale. Enough so they detained her brother after the war for further interrogation, what they euphemistically call a debrief. If a hard-nosed organization like them believe her story, then we have to give it due credence.” Niles shook his head and looked at the wall clock just as the conference room door opened and Xavier Morales and the rest of the team started to filter in. Niles slowly made his way over to the conference table.
Virginia sat and then nodded and pushed a sheaf of paperwork toward the director.
“Dr. Morales, we don’t have much time. What have you come up with?” Compton asked.
“Actually, Moira Mendelsohn was quite easily traced. She was at one time listed in Forbes magazine as one of the top-ten richest women in the world. She hasn’t been listed since 1972, but she was listed.”
“Is she still alive?” Charlie asked.
“Very much so, at least as far as the latest New York City census.”
“You mean she lives here?” Niles asked.
“Yes, sir, she immigrated to the United States in 1950 from Jerusalem where she lived right under the noses of Israeli intelligence. Her ten American companies at one time owned seventy-six electronic and light-emitting patents.” Xavier looked at his electronic pad and then looked up. “As far as Europa can tell, Miss Mendelsohn spent no less than three fortunes on philanthropic endeavors.”