Authors: Niv Kaplan
But something quite disturbing and out of the ordinary finally happened this morning with the peculiar phone call she had received. Chester was in his cubicle going over some papers, one ear, as usual, attentive to the happening in Lisa's cubicle, when he detected the sudden sense of urgency. He hadn't quite caught on the entire phone conversation, so he sprang to his feet and went around to her cubicle, ready to make up one of his standard excuses of needing to borrow something. He had seen her return from Eckerts' office a bit shaken and thought it may have been the reason for her dismay but found her looking pale, staring bewildered into space, stroking her sister's photo. When she took her stuff and hurried out, he knew something unusual had occurred.
He was just barely able to catch a glimpse of her disappearing into the Fulton Street subway station, then managed to board her train and follow her as she disembarked at 42nd Street.
A twinge of painful jealousy struck deep within him as he watched her embrace the stranger who stepped out of the bus.
Chester was standing across 42nd, not thirty feet away, and he could see the engaging young man was special to her. He watched with envy as her gentle hands held on to the man's solid frame while she placed her head to his chest compassionately.
In turmoil, he followed them to the cafe, taking refuge in the cramped deli across the street, nervously waiting for what lay ahead.
-------
Lisa buried her face in her hands. Her body shook, giving refuge to the conflicting emotions that swept through her. Shock and confusion dampened the joy she thought she should have been feeling after learning her sister may be alive. She also felt deeply ashamed for giving in, where others, who were much less expected to perform, had kept at it.
Above all, she felt sickened by her own father. Any hope of one day reviving some type of family bond was cut to shreds.
"He's a very sick man," she hissed through her teeth. Mikki kept silent.
"Once, when Karen was seven, she spilled some milk into his open briefcase, ruining some documents. He became so angry he lost control and punched her in the eye nearly knocking it out. They had to rush her to the hospital and sew her full of stitches. She lost vision in her left eye for almost a month. Luckily she recovered and gained her sight back, though the eye is considerably weaker and she carries a scar.”
"How'd he get away with it?" Mikki gritted his teeth, feeling a deep rage within him.
"The doctors at the hospital were all his friends; Westlake's high society. They all work out at the local Gym, go to mixers, and play golf together. No one dared pry into his story.”
"What about
your Mom?"
"She wouldn't dare tarnish the family name. It would have meant losing her status. She did threaten to leave him after that but as always, never carried out her threats.”
Their encounter at the Geffen Inn was now vivid in his mind. He could see Glass's eyes confronting him from across the conference table. The thunderous voice still echoed in his mind. The recollection of the humiliating manner in which the man treated a younger version of himself, intensified his brewing rage.
It was suddenly clear why Karen could not bring herself to talk about the scar or anything remotely associated with trivial childhood memories. Any doubt about the man's capacity to kidnap his daughter, betray his own family, and ruin lives, was erased from his mind.
"I can't even begin to imagine how it must feel," he said, trying to comfort her. "I don't know what I would do if…" he could not complete the sentence. Her tormented eyes sparkling tearfully at him, made him swallow his words. He realized there was nothing he could say to ease her pain.
"What were you planning to do after seeing me?"
she asked in a hoarse voice.
"We need your help," he stated profoundly.
She looked dumbfounded, as if it never crossed her mind.
"If what I've told you bears any truth," he rationalized, "if Karen is indeed held captive in the States and your father is somehow involved,
then he is our prime recourse. The foremost, and probably the only way we can possibly get to her, would be through him.”
He paused to let his words sink in, and then emphatically made his point. "And the only way we could get to him, would be through you.”
-------
They had remained in the café until the lunch crowds drove them out. Lisa needed time alone. She also needed to return to the office. She gave him her keys and instructions on how to get to the Upper East Side apartment and promised to return with answers.
Mikki had managed a long hot shower and a few hours of sleep on the living room couch until jet lag kicked in and woke him up. He attempted to fight it for a short while knowing his body needed the rest, but soon gave in to the annoying phenomenon and made himself something to eat.
He waited for her by the apartment's lone window watching the long evening shadows begin to nestle over First Ave. He recalled the bus ride from the airport as the majestic New York skyline suddenly appeared over the expressway just before they plunged underneath the East river, and the sense of humbleness created by the gigantic structures as the bus stormed out of the tunnel and into the congested city. As he stood there, cup of percolated coffee in hand, watching a typical Manhattan evening rush hour, replaying the day's events in his mind, it finally dawned on him that he was in America, a place he had vouched to seek ever since meeting the girl who was to change his life.
Subconsciously, he knew he had been preparing himself. Throughout his military service, right up to the time Sarah, Eitan, and Nadav appeared at his door with the startling photo of Karen, he had taken up perfecting his English. Among other things, he read as many English books as his time would allow, signed up for English correspondence courses, and spoke only English to a converted American trooper in his platoon.
He was suddenly engulfed by a sense of excitement as he realized his persistence may have paid off. After years of perpetual anguish, he was on the verge of finding her, half a world away from where it all began. A rush of energy had shot through him, inspiring him to go on, but he knew the questions and doubts could not be kept away for long. She could be long dead, for all he knew, never making it out of Israel or Lebanon. The ruthless bastards may have murdered her and thrown her body in some godforsaken ditch that no one would ever find.
Lisa came back after dark managed a quick hello and had disappeared into the shower.
"Have you eaten?"
he asked, watching the steaming fog follow her out of the shower as she stopped to pick up some loose garments off the white carpet.
"I had something on the way, thanks," she said, forcing an awkward smile.
"What's the matter?" he probed, sensing her uneasiness, afraid he was burdening her.
She looked at him from a hunched position on the carpet, took a deep breath and stood up. Her robe, held by a flimsy fabric waistband underneath her midsection, left her legs exposed to her bare thighs. She walked toward him and sat down across the tiny table.
"I took a month off work," she said, "and I plan to do whatever it takes to find my sister.”
Mikki let out a sigh of relief. He took her hand and gently kissed it. "Thanks Lisa, we were counting on you.”
"Remember when we met at your kibbutz and I had asked you not to give up on her?" She asked a determined look on her face.
Mikki nodded.
"Well, you didn't; so I should be the one thanking you. I was the one who gave in and I hate myself for it.”
"Don't be hard on yourself Lisa; we just got a lucky break."
"What I should've done was knock over some tables at the State Department, only it was considerably more convenient to let those incompetents handle it and go on with my studies.”
Mikki realized it was pointless to try and pacify her. She needed to deal with her guilt and work it out of her system before she could be of any use to them.
He looked at her. Her wet hair was beginning to curl up to its characteristic contours. A few drops of water were flowing down her face through her neck and onto her chest. Her green eyes were locked on him and their bare knees were touching under the table.
She stood up, exposing the shapely, smooth skinned legs and seductive thighs once again and disappeared into her bedroom, returning after a few minutes wearing a golden Pepperdine training suit.
Mikki was by the sink washing the dishes.
"There's one other matter we haven't discussed," he said above the clatter of running water and colliding dishes.
Lisa held the bag of coffee she was about to drop into the percolator in mid-air, looking at him anxiously. He noticed her concern and shut off the water.
"Financial problems," he said seriously.
"What kind?" She asked.
"We have just about used up all our resources. The trip to Denmark and here had basically done us in. If we're to continue this affair, we will need some serious injection of cash.”
Lisa looked relieved for the first time. This was something she could solve. "Not to worry," she said with a genuine smile, "I've got enough to back anything.”
At last, there was something of substance she can contribute to finding her sister and it made her feel worthy again. The money she would use had been carefully invested for her over the years by the man she would use it against.
Her own father.
CHAPTER 23
The Remote Piloted Vehicle was a dark speck shooting across the horizon. It came in low, nearly touching the desert sand and popped up a full ninety degrees in front of the launching site. As it shot up, it began rolling and maneuvering
like a demented saucer.
A faint flash of light was all that was seen as the miniaturized rocket booster engaged, sending the missile on a collision course with the unmanned aircraft.
The group of spectators standing behind a protective sand ramp held their breath as the hunter and prey danced in midair.
Then, a bright flash appeared as the two bodies collided.
A large cheer arose as the missile struck and the aircraft disintegrated. The dummy warhead achieved a direct hit despite the RPV's complex maneuvering.
Paul Glass, beaming with pleasure, walked across from his vantage point near the portable missile launching site and began shaking hands feverishly. After years of painstaking struggle he could finally smell success,
for it was his company's powerful laser guided seeker that was responsible for homing the missile in on the evasive target.
"A live warhead would easily destroy any fighter aircraft flying at such low altitudes," he exulted, shaking one outstretched hand after another. "No existing laser technology comes even close to PAAM standards," he beamed. His cardinal decision to pursue smaller and more efficient laser excitation sources was proving itself. It was PhotonTek's diode array technology that was
key to achieving enough excitation with such miniaturized systems.
"It'll take the competition years to achieve such energy levels in such a compact system.”
Though he had achieved undisputed success, he kept hammering the message, making sure the decision makers were acutely aware of his product's advantages. He had much to prove. The system he was contracted to support was a laser guided anti-aircraft missile that was to be operated by common foot soldiers. The launching device and set of two missiles was designed to be carried by only two infantry men who could assemble the apparatus and prepare it for launch in a matter of seconds. The 'fire and forget' projectile, unlike other laser-guided missiles, was equipped with the laser mounted on the missile's gimbaled head, which guided it to its target. Once a lock was achieved, the onus would be on the powerful laser beam to track the aircraft to its destruction.
From the corner of his eye he could see the partners standing a little to the side, in front of a gray Toyota Land-cruiser, satisfied grins on their faces. He walked to them encountering no enthusiastic hand shaking, just forced nods of recognition which conveyed a certain degree of revulsion towards him.
Edgar Langone, senior partner in Barons Investment Banking firm, stood erect, casually dressed underneath an expensive brown leather jacket. His firm was PhotonTek's principal backer. He was an impressive figure in his early sixties, standing almost a foot tall over his two associates. His ultraviolet tanned face, creased with age and lifelong adversity, appeared in sharp contrast to his mane of white hair blowing backward in the wind. He reminded Glass of Charlton Heston as Moses in front of the burning bush on Mount Sinai.
To Langone's right stood a stiffly suited, frail balding man, with penetrating blue eyes behind steel rimmed glasses glued to the end of his nose. Karl Stana may have been years younger than his colleague, but it did not show. He represented Krause-Hauser, a German-Austrian firm which was Baron's counterpart in Europe. Glass had met him only twice before, though through endless phone and fax correspondence he quickly learned that he was the one calling the shots.
The third member of the distinguished party was known to Glass only as Kumar, no last name. He was considerably younger than his affiliates, a dark skinned man, presumably Indian or Pakistani, who spoke impeccable English with a distinct British accent. It was he who had made the fateful call offering to save PhotonTek for a price that had turned so costly and painful.
Glass had long made up his mind about the distribution of power and responsibilities among the partners, but on almost every encounter a new twist would be unearthed.
Langone was the US front for an intricate international enterprise that dealt on the verge of illegality, not bashful about crossing the line. The Portable Anti-Aircraft Missile, or the PAAM project as it was generally referred to, was in blatant violation of most US export regulations. It had long ago alerted the international intelligence community to the point where they could no longer ignore the potential threat it represented if it reached the hands of unstable adversaries.
Having dealt with defense oriented products in the
past, Glass knew that end use of such military products had to be strictly defined by export license regulations. The partners had demanded his full cooperation in thwarting any attempt made to halt the development of his laser seeker and so far they had successfully backed all necessary actions he had taken, but he often wondered how powerful they truly were with the US authorities.
He was certain substantial orders were to come from abroad and it was all a matter of time before the authorities would intervene. He presumed that by having let it go this far, they would most likely not interfere until its completion, possibly anticipating some domestic orders. But internal pressures were mounting and there was no telling when and how they would decide to clamp down on the affair. In fact, few government personnel knew of the experiments which were held in the Mojave Desert on a private test site belonging to the Matlock Defense Company.
The recourse planned by the partners to enable the missile's export, was unknown to Glass. But he had entrusted the future of his company to their hands and all he could do was maintain a belief they would make good on their promises.
For the time being, he had more imminent problems to deal with.
"When will you go into production?" Langone roared over the boisterous desert wind.
"The final
design is frozen as of today," Glass replied, shielding his eyes from the tiny sand pebbles hurled at him by a sudden gush of wind. "A couple more of these successes and we should be satisfied with moving the proto-types into production. After that i
t’
s all downhill. I would presume full scale production should begin after the first of the year.”
"Excellent!" commented the German, looking up from behind his spectacles. "This puts us right on schedule. We're now only eight months delayed!”
Glass was not about to enter into another endless bout on who was at fault. The weekly update phone conferences were filled with mutual accusations of who was accountable for delays, with everyone claiming each other's incompetency. Now wasn't the place nor the time for such bickering. Why ruin a successful day? Besides, the preparation and integration of the missile with the seeker head was Matlock's responsibility, not his. He was ready months ago.
"I will need an order for my long lead items by the end of this
month," he said, avoiding the German, addressing Langone.
But the German was not to be ignored. Lunging ahead of the banker, he confronted Glass. "There will be no additional monetary commitments before you go into full production!"
Glass was losing his patience with the snotty German.
"There will be no production without LLI's. There are several components I need to order well in advance and I will not risk money I don't have.”
"Listen Glass, we've been financing you for over four years. Your cost overruns have just about reached their limit. Our company will not stand for it.”
"Then you just haul your ass over to some other company for a laser seeker. I've had just about enough of you.”
Glass regretted his words the second he let them loose, but his nerves were shot from the mounting pressures, and the moment of triumph gave him a sudden burst of audacity. He had no illusions about his company's ability to stand on its own two feet without their support.
The man known as Kumar spoke for the first time. He was addressing the banker.
"We may be able to force Matlock to finance his items.”
"Why would they want to do that?"
the banker asked. "They never have before.”
"They are the prime contractor, Edgar. It is their ultimate responsibility to deliver the fully operational missile on time. If we show the delays as their fault, they may buy into financing Glass's LLI's.”
"We've confronted them with these issues before and they never budged, why should they do so now?"
"Because, as of today, they can finally see some light at the end of all this.
Look at them congratulating each other like children. This is the first time the full system has produced satisfactory results and I bet they are as eager as they could ever be to get the show on the road.”
It was a plausible argument in the heat of the moment but not one that would wash with the seasoned Matlock crowd once the initial euphoria dissipated. They too had invested almost four years in developing the portable anti-aircraft missile and were most likely expecting a healthy return, or they would have pulled out long ago.
Langone, mulling over the temporary compromise, looked at the German for support.
"Why don't we simply fine them? It is within our rights, is it not?" the German stated arrogantly.
Matlock, as in the case of PhotonTek, was Langone's responsibility. His people drew up the contracts, initiated time schedules, finalized the legal work, and were responsible for timely deliveries of both hardware and integration tasks. Delays were associated with heavy fines but so far none was exercised.
"I wouldn't go to that extreme Mr. Stana. Especially not now," Langone remarked.
Langone turned to Glass. "How much will you need?"
Glass was ready. "I'll need two million for the first batch of one hundred seekers and an additional $500K to set up the production line with test equipment.”
The German raised his hands in a helpless gesture. He turned and disappeared into the Land-Cruiser. Kumar followed suit.
"Patience can only last so long," Langone said, eyeing Glass suspiciously. "It's safe to say we're extremely distraught by now, so you better make prudent use of this final advance. Make sure there aren't any more fuck ups and next time…" the banker lowered his head and stared Glass in the face, "the money better be coming out of the project's own earnings.”
Glass knew that most of the financing came from the European venture with some operational money raised by Langone's Barons investment firm. He had estimated that between himself, Matlock, and two other major subcontractors, they had already pumped over forty million dollars into the PAAM project. Future ample returns were expected but so far, debt was rapidly accumulating.
It was not the first time the partners had threatened to cease the transfer of funds. They had withheld payments for several weeks on various occasions but ended up paying when the contractors threatened with default. This time, Glass felt, they meant business. If
the production lines did not begin pumping out units in time, according to the already revised schedule, the project would be seriously threatened, maybe even abandoned. It was rumored that potential customers with signed contracts, who had deposited heavy down-payments for their initial orders, were threatening to pull out if further delays hampered the project. In the environment of the unpredictable and complex defense industry, it was rare to find clients risking such large amounts of upfront money on a new product.
Langone turned to leave.
"Edgar!" Glass stopped him. The banker turned slowly, noticeably harassed by the wind.
"I need to clean up some personal matters," Glass said nearly shouting over the increasing cries of the wind.
"In due course," the banker replied, eager to seek the shelter of his vehicle.
"When?"
Glass asked, standing his ground.
"You get the production happening; then we'll talk.”
With that, the banker escaped into the Land-Cruiser and signaled the driver to take off. Glass remained in his stance as the four wheel drive spewed sand in all directions and sped away.