The Zimmer Doctrine (Corps Justice Book 11) (7 page)

Chapter 13

Wild Dunes

Isle of Palms, South Carolina

August 28th, 11:49am

The young woman walked into the room preceded by the Israeli Ambassador, flanked by two Secret Service agents. Her eyes darted around the room. She looked like a caged animal, afraid and disheveled. Zimmer noticed the manila envelope she had clutched tightly to her chest like a mother protecting her baby.

Zimmer’s musings were cut short by the Israeli Ambassador, who the president considered a friend.

“Mr. President, I am so sorry for disturbing you.” His accent was pure American English. He’d lived in the U.S. since he was a child due to his father’s diplomatic posts in and around Washington, D.C. In many ways, Sandy Ullman was as American as the rest of the men and women in the room. He was also a career diplomat and if he was concerned by the amount of muscle in the room he didn’t show it. “Is there a place we can talk privately?”

Maybe it was the hangover or maybe the fact that he wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries but Zimmer was in no condition to play games.

“Anything you need to say to me you can say in front of my friends.” He felt a stinging headache coming on. “How did you know I was here, Sandy?”

“The CIA,” Ullman replied, as if it were no big deal.

It was no secret that Israel had a long history of spying on the United States. From commercial innovation to military intelligence, their forces were well-entrenched in American society. But to hear that the CIA had given Ullman his private location…

“I am simply here to make the introduction. Mr. President, may I present Maya Eilenberg?”

There were no handshakes, only nods from Eilenberg and the president. Zimmer could feel the rest of the room looking on with unabashed curiosity.

“Why don’t we have a seat at the table, Ms. Eilenberg,” Zimmer said. A way parted between the rest of the observers. “Can I get you anything?”

“Thank you, no,” she answered in a hoarse voice.

Zimmer poured her a glass of water anyway, and Top produced a plate of Danishes.

“Mr. President,” the Ambassador said, “I’ll leave you to chat with Ms. Eilenberg. My return flight to D.C. is waiting.”

“But aren’t you going to…?” Zimmer started to ask.

Ullman put his hands in the air. “I was instructed to make the introduction and, in case you were wondering, I do not know what Ms. Eilenberg is going to discuss with you. My
friend
thought it would be best.”

Zimmer didn’t argue. He was safe with Cal and the rest of The Jefferson Group in attendance. Besides, he was more than a little curious as to A) why the Israelis would go to such lengths to find him, and B) what this young woman had clutched so tightly in her hands.

“We’ll make sure she gets back to D.C.,” Zimmer said.

Ullman nodded and left without another word. All eyes were fixed on Maya Eilenberg. Zimmer found it interesting that even though she looked like she’d been through something traumatic, she did not cower. There was fear in her eyes, but it wasn’t directed at him or the other people in the room.

“May I call you Maya?” Zimmer asked.

“Yes, Mr. President.” She had but only a slight accent.

Zimmer smiled. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here, Maya.”

With the envelope still held against her chest, Maya said, “I had the whole flight over to think about what I should say, and now that I am here I do not know what to say.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

Maya exhaled and the envelope was lowered slowly to the table.

“For the past two years I worked for a man named Osman. He was a Colonel in the Israeli army and spent many years with intelligence. He never told me so, but I believe he did time with Mossad and Shin Bet. Colonel Osman hand-picked a team of security and intelligence specialists to be part of a secret project. Osman told us that the operation was tasked from the highest levels of the Israeli government, and that its success would ensure the future of our country. Naturally, as patriotic men and women, we jumped at the opportunity.  I had been an intelligence analyst stuck behind a computer day and night. This was my chance to give back or so I thought.”

Maya grabbed the glass of water and took a sip. She gazed into the water like she was watching her memories unfold.

“We received training before the project got underway and our team went from twenty  to fifteen members. Osman was impressed with my abilities and made me his deputy. It wasn’t until then that I got a glimpse of what our job entailed. Mostly, it consisted of surveying the activities of a single man, a geologist and inventor named Dr. Aviel Nahas. We monitored his movements, tracked his computer usage, and even followed him on his free time. Colonel Osman liked to make surprise visits to the doctor’s lab. He said it would keep Nahas on his toes, which it did. For almost a year, that was all we did. No one except Osman knew what Nahas was building. I saw the occasional sketch or schematic, but whatever he was doing was well hidden. I came to find out that was Osman’s doing, as a precautionary measure, should pieces of the research fall into the wrong hands.”

“One day, Osman called me into his office. He seemed distracted, maybe even worried. He said he shouldn’t be telling me, but that he had to, that he couldn’t be the only one on our team to know the information. Osman showed me Nahas’s plans and even let me look at the pictures from the manufacturing facility where they were taking the plans and building prototypes in real time. The final replica looked like a horseshoe crab. Do you know what they are?”

Zimmer nodded. “Hard-dome shell? Spiked tail? Lots of feet? They have them here in South Carolina.”

“Yes. Well, I had never seen them. Osman showed me pictures of the real thing. But the ones Nahas was building were much larger.”

“How big?” Zimmer asked.

“Approximately thirty-feet long and just under that in width.”

“I don’t understand. What was it they were planning on using them for?”

Maya looked uncomfortable for a moment but regained her composure and asked, “How much do you know about deep sea mining?”

“I’ve been briefed on it a few times. I know that it’s been highly cost prohibitive, mostly due to the sheer depth you have to go to in order to hit the right pockets.” Zimmer didn’t mention the environmental implications.

“That is true. Up until ten years ago, very few companies had ever taken more than a few samples from the deepest reaches of the world’s oceans. But now, with the increased use of rare earth elements, of which China holds over ninety percent of the known land-based mines, companies and nations are looking to find these untapped resources and bring them to market.”

Zimmer knew all about rare earth elements (REEs). Not a week went by that some lobbyist wasn’t begging him to expand America’s reach in order to combat the stranglehold China had on the rare earth market. Everything from computer chips to glass tint required REEs for manufacturing.

“So, what are you saying? What do these things do, exactly?”

“Nahas originally designed them as exploration vehicles. As his trials progressed, his optimism grew, as did the size of the prototypes. Ultimately, he believed that swarms of these vehicles could be used to mine and deliver the raw elements from the bottom of the ocean.”

Zimmer knew that one of the problems with deep sea mining was delivery. In the past, there were two options. You could either use a continuous line bucket system or a hydraulic suction system. Again, the extreme depths of proposed mining sites always kept either system from becoming reality.

“Okay. So this Nahas came up with a way to get to the prize. What does this have to do with us?”

A shadow seemed to pass across Maya’s face. She looked down at her hands.

“Osman explained that tapping into these deep sea mines could mean a flood of money for Israel. We have long been known for our expertise within supply chains like diamond and gold but we have never really owned the source. This would be our chance to own the supply.” Maya shook her head, eyes still downcast. “Part of the plan was to exploit your exclusive economic zones through American intermediaries. The same would happen across the globe in locations where potential mines would be located.”

Zimmer did not understand. While the plan might sound like an economic coup of sort, surely it wasn’t important enough to have this young woman fly halfway around the world to brief him.

“Maya, I’m still not sure what this means.”

She looked up. This time there were tears in her eyes.

“Colonel Osman was murdered. I have been on the run for days. And yesterday, as my plane was taking off from Haifa, I watched a friend and his team get killed when their vehicle exploded.”

She’d lain them out like playing cards, as if she were still trying to make sense of the hand she’d been dealt.

The entire room had seen all manner of evil committed for money but to Zimmer there was still something missing. As if reading his mind, Maya finally said, “I’ve been sent to ask for your help.”

“Help with what?”

“All the prototypes and the plans have been stolen, Mr. President.”

Again, that didn’t sound like it was America’s problem.

“What does this have to do with us, Ms. Eilenberg?”

This time her gaze did not waver.

“I was told to give you one name.”

“And what name is that?”

Zimmer wasn’t sure if he saw the hint of a grin or the beginning of a grimace on the Israeli’s face.

“Hannah Krygier,” she said, slowly, like sap dripping from a maple tree.

His body froze and the blood drained from the president’s face. That was a name he’d hoped never to hear again.

Chapter 14

Wild Dunes

Isle of Palms, South Carolina

August 28th, 12:22pm

Maya stared at President Zimmer’s startled expression. He looked shell-shocked, and the Israeli couldn’t understand why. Her aunt’s instructions had been clear. “
Tell him my name and everything will fall into place
,” the handwritten note had said. Maya had expected it to be like an introduction from afar.

“Can you say that name again, please?” the president said, pronouncing each word like he was asking for a secret password.

“Hannah Krygier,” Maya repeated slowly.

Zimmer nodded his head, his face grave, but his composure had returned. He motioned to one of the men who had escorted her and the ambassador in.

“Please find Ms. Eilenberg a room. I need to make a phone call.” Then he turned back to Maya. “Thank you for your visit. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to see to my duties.”

He grabbed the envelope from the table and flashed her a smile. Maya could see it was forced. Whatever her aunt’s name had dredged up, it now had the president’s undivided attention.

Maya stood from the table and left with the Secret Service agent. The adrenaline was wearing thin and her feet felt heavy and clumsy. A shower and a nap were all she could think about as she tried to ignore the curious gazes of the crowded room of onlookers.

+++

“What the hell was that about?” Trent whispered to Cal once the center of attention had left.

“I don’t know, but did you see his face?”

Trent nodded. They’d been through some close calls with the president but neither man had seen their friend’s countenance change in the blink of an eye.

“Let me go talk to him,” Cal said.

He made his way to the master bedroom where the president had decided to make his phone call. Upon entering the room Cal saw the manila envelope, now open, with its contents laying on the bed. Brandon was pacing back and forth, his secure phone in his right hand and a single sheet of paper in his left.

“I want to know everything you’ve got on Israeli agents currently working within our borders.” There was a pause as he listened to whomever was on the other end. “No, it’s fine that you told him where I was. It’s
that
important.” Another brief pause and then the president said, “Call me as soon as you know.”

Brandon ended the call and threw the phone on the bed. For a moment he didn’t even acknowledge Cal's presence.

“Who was that?” Cal asked.

“The CIA.”

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Brandon didn’t answer.

Cal looked down at the papers the Eilenberg girl had delivered. There were dossiers and maps; some information was redacted in heavy black. If there was a common thread to the documents, it wasn’t immediately evident. It looked more like a random compilation of information - like pieces from several jigsaw puzzles thrown into one box.

“Did I ever tell you what they gave me when I inherited the presidency?” Brandon inquired.

“I don’t think so.”

“So, they bring you into this little room where you have to sign your initials in a thousand places, have your picture taken, get scanned for retina recognition, and I think they even took a few vials of blood. Well, when that’s all done they bring in the presidential briefers. I’m actually surprised that no one has quit after all the information they impart. If the American people knew what I know...“ Brandon shivered at the thought. “So, after the doom and gloom of the bad news, they try to provide some good news. One of the things these experts will tell a new president is where our assets are located. They’re very thorough going into great detail about what countries we’ve infiltrated most successfully and where we have the most influence both economically and militarily. Then one of them handed me a single card with five names. The card had names and the country associated with the name. I was told to memorize the names and once I did the guy burned the card immediately.”

“And that lady’s name was on the card?”

“Yeah.”

Cal waited for the punch line but Brandon had once again drifted back to his thoughts.

“So you don’t know her?” Cal asked. The president shook his head. “Then who is she?”

“She’s a mole.”

“Here in the U.S.?”

“No, in Israel.”

“But why? How long has she been working for us?”

“She doesn’t exactly work
for
us. The way it was explained to me, this person acts like an early warning system, coming above ground only to alert us of a dire emergency. They told me that these sources are considered as one-time uses. Once their cover is blown, that’s it,” Brandon explained. “No one knows about them except the president and the source. Up until now I assumed they’d disappeared or died.”

“But we’ve got spies all over the world. Hell, we tap anything we can get our hands on. Are you telling me that these people are better than that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. The presidential handlers didn’t exactly give me a detailed game plan. It was more of a “what if” deal. I do remember them saying that our relationships with these sources were developed in the late sixties. I have no idea how they were selected, or how it could be known they would rise to high-ranking positions of power. But what I do know is that each person on the note card had the ability to attain certain vital information whose authenticity would not be questioned.”

There were too many questions to ask. Cal picked the first that popped into his head.

“So, why now? Is it because of this deep-sea thing? Do you really think it’s that big a deal?”

“No. I don’t think it has anything to do with mining rare resources.”

“Then what?”

The president’s voice sounded cold and his face hardened like a general preparing for battle.

“These sources were put in place to prevent calamity. Specifically, they’re there to warn us should the established order within their country collapse to the point of breaking. But, it would have to be something hidden, something our usual sources couldn’t sniff out.”

Cal was starting to understand. No country was perfect and nut jobs cropped up all too often. They rose in popularity, fueled by dissension, riding the waves of national rejuvenation when in fact these power mongers just wanted control. Cal couldn’t think of anyone like that in Israel but maybe he was out of touch.

“What do you want us to do?” Cal asked, correctly assuming the president would want The Jefferson Group in on the action.

“I want you to take this stuff,” Brandon said, pointing to the documents, “and find out what the hell is going on. I want you to find out why Israel wants to start a war with the United States of America.”