The End-Time Foretellers Read online

  “ Raoul, leave this old man. Come on, let’s get out of here,” said Alejandro, his voice trembling. He pulled Raoul out of the laundromat. Binyamin followed them intently, as they ran off to the left. He gathered up the empty laundry bags scattered on the floor, opened the large clothes dryer, and quickly shoved the laundry into the sacks. He walked quickly toward his car. He didn’t want to find out if they went to call for reinforcement.

  “Dad, is everything okay?” Asked Aharon. He looked worried.

  “Everything’s all right, Aharon,” smiled Binyamin. “They decided not to damage the laundromat owner’s property. A wise decision, I think.“

  “Say, Dad, were they bad people?”

  “I don’t know,” he stopped for a moment, “they do bad things.” Aharon thought and asked,

  “Are there people like that in Israel?”

  “Less of them,” Binyamin answered.

  “Maybe we should move to Israel?”

  “I know you want to,” Binyamin said fondly. “I do too, but I can’t yet. I have to finish something over here first.“

  14

  Ben Gurion Airport, Israel

  The airport was crowded despite the late hour.

  At the El Al desk sat a bored and tired-looking customer service representative with a hairdo that had seen better days, and over the top makeup. She reluctantly took my ticket and allotted me a seat on the flight. I put the suitcase on the scale beside her. She didn’t bother checking the weight before she tagged it and sent it onwards to the conveyor belt. “Gate D7 in an hour and a half,” she said monotonously.

  I made my way towards the gate. I had a small black backpack where I carried my passport, $500, a book and a few chocolate chip cookies for the flight. On my way, I wasted some time in the duty free. There weren’t many things that interested me there, but I always liked to check out the gadgets in electronics stores. I came close to buying a new MP3 player as a surprise for Adi, but then remembered that I had no idea when I’d be coming back.

  Flight delayed. “But they said it would go on time, the monitors said that it would going on time,” a pair of aging Poles gibbered nearby. “I don’t believe it,” the woman murmured. “What don’t you believe?” Her husband asked angrily, “I know where you and my credit card are going to be in the coming hour.” I suppressed a smile.

  I crashed into a black leather armchair in a cafe near the gate. Airport air, airport smells, airport people. I settled back and enjoyed the quiet of being anonymous in an unfamiliar place. I tried to relax but felt tense. I had no idea what was going to happen. The fat man said they would contact me and not to worry; one of the most worrying assurances of the year.

  My cell vibrated. I looked at the screen - Adi. I had no patience for her. “Yes, Adi?”

  “Yoav, is everything okay?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “You don’t normally pick up,” she said. “Where are you?” for a moment I considered what to tell her, but the options were all as bad. “At the airport.”

  “What?! Are you okay?”

  “Yes, completely.”

  “Have you called Dad?”

  “No.”

  “He doesn’t know?”

  “I’ll update him by email.” Not necessary, I thought, she’ll probably update him before me.

  “Why didn’t you tell him?”

  “Adi, don’t pretend like everything is okay between me and dad. You know I’ve not been speaking to him since... forever.” “That’s no reason not to tell him. Say, where are you going anyway?”

  “To the United States.”

  “A vacation, one fine day?”

  “Something like that.”

  “When are you coming back?”

  “Adi, I have to go. Love to Ori.”

  ***

  The cafe was almost empty, most of the passengers apparently preferred ambling throughout the duty-free. Someone sat next to me. A security officer type; short curly blond hair and sunglasses on his head. “Ehud,” he introduced himself and held out his hand to me.

  He leaned towards me. “When we get on the plane I’m going to disappear. I’m officially the flight’s security officer but I’m really here to hand you material. We’ll be in contact in LA as well.“

  He offered me gum, I politely refused. A waitress arrived with two single espressos. I gave her a surprised look, “I didn’t order anything.” Ehud pointed at our table, “You can put them down here, thank you.” He put the gum back in his pocket, took a laptop from the bag, and placed it on the small table, turning the screen towards me. Data regarding the mission appeared on the screen, I managed to see some names. Two stewardesses who had picked up a couple of lattes walked past nearby. Ehud closed the laptop shut and waited for them to pass.

  “So?” He looked at me with curiosity. “You tracked them down, eh?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Rami told me you had been able to focus... what was it exactly?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Yoav,” Ehud said, “if we’re going to be a team, you’d better start sharing information,“ and he smiled an unconvincing smile. I hate overly friendly people. Any time someone tries to be my friend in less than five minutes, a warning light comes on. The faster they become your friends, the more they hate you in the end.

  I thought of Yossi. It took us years to become friends. Our friendship built slowly, gently. We had known each other for so many years, ever since we were kids. I think that’s why our relationship had so much depth, each of us took his time. He was like my brother, more than a brother. We built the friendship gradually, slowly, and then, all at once...

  “A team? We’re not going to be a team.”

  “What do you mean?” I heard anger in his voice.

  “I work alone, that’s my agreement with Rami.”

  “He didn’t mention anything to me.”

  “Listen, Ehud,” I felt myself stiffening. “It has nothing to do with you. That’s how I’ve work for years; I work alone.“

  He nodded, considering what I said.

  ”So?“ Ehud asked wearily, ”Are you excited?“

  “No,“ I answered coldly.

  He closed his eyes briefly and said, “You’re entering deep waters. Let’s hope you can swim. Were you thoroughly briefed on the mission?“

  “Not really. The truth is that I’ve hardly been briefed at all.“

  Ehud shook his head: ”They always leave the loose ends to me, Rami is incapable of tying up anything himself.“

  I wanted to say something.

  ”Don’t worry,” Ehud smiled. ”I don’t blame you. I mean...” He paused momentarily for dramatic effect, “If I were you, I don’t know that I’d agree to go on a mission knowing almost nothing about it, but I don’t blame you, I’m sure you know what you’re doing. Rami has just been screwing up too much lately, I don’t know what’s his deal.”

  “Did you want to update me regarding the mission?”

  “Yes,” he sighed, and opened the laptop again. “Look, as things stand now, there are three big arms dealers in Los Angeles that we know are connected to the Iranians. One of them is...“

  “Why arms dealers?” I interrupted him.

  “One of the things we know is that the Foretellers, whoever they are, aren’t in direct contact with the Iranians but use a middleman who has a stake in the transaction. The middleman is a big arms dealer and as I said there are three possibilities.“

  I looked at him, my interest piqued.

  “There is Schetritt Industries, a company owned by Avi Schetritt, he’s a Jewish arms dealer.“

  “Israeli?“

  “I don’t think Avi considers himself Israeli, even though he lived in Israel for a short period in the 1980s. These days he pretty much hates Israel, at least in its
present iteration. At any rate, we have him in our sights. Apart from him, there are the Chinese, who are in constant dealings with the Iranians, and, of course, there’s also a local arms dealer, Jimmy McDavis, who is originally from the Texas area and is an agitator of war around the world. It’s likely not to be Jimmy, because he deals mostly with local guerilla forces and less with cyber terrorism and transferring codes for breaking into ballistic missile systems.“

  “I understand.“

  “Tell me, aren’t you supposed to be in the information sector? More of a hacker than a field officer?”

  “Possibly.”

  “So why are you going over there? Why not work remotely, letting the local agents seal the deal?“

  “First of all, Rami sent me. You’ve got a problem? Talk to him. Apart from that, not everything can be done remotely, unfortunately.“

  “For example? In this mission?” He asked with interest.

  I sipped the single espresso. The coffee was bitter and cold and slid down my throat like a bitter pill. Ehud pointed at the gate, people were beginning to board the plane. We got up and made our way to the gate. He stopped and said, “I’m going to the restroom for a sec, don’t forget to pay for the coffee.“

  15

  Los Angeles International Airport, California

  I made my way in a small taxi from LAX airport in south Los Angeles to the hotel that Rami booked for me back in Israel. Rami boasted that he had gotten an amazing deal for an amazing hotel at a really good price. When I proudly told the taxi driver the name of the hotel, Paradise Gate, he smiled a little. “No problem, boss”, he giggled. “Are you sure?” I didn’t understand what he was trying to say until we approached the “hotel.” Check-in at reception and entering the room clarified the situation.

  It was one of the worst places I had ever stayed in. It smelled musty and the staff was rude. No wonder Rami found a “wonderful deal” online, that miser. I’m not going to stay here. If this is how things are going to go, it seems I’d better flee to Nicaragua and seek political asylum.

  I sat down on a bed with squeaky springs and pulled out the laptop. I quickly went online in encrypted mode to see what was happening on the Foretellers message board. As I was signing in, I looked out the window. I felt far from everything, from Israel, from my store, from my few friends and from my family. Far from myself. I was stuck in a strange city where I knew no one apart from Ehud - uncertain whether that would be an advantage or disadvantage - exiled from my country against my will.

  People love hotels, I hate them. And that was a world record. Without a shadow of a doubt, the worst hotel I’d ever been to in my life. In the well-kempt hotels, I feel alienated, especially in the evenings when darkness falls, then I feel the loneliness. I stared another moment at the grayish city and returned my attention to the screen.

  I connected to the message board. There were two new posts. The first discussed the need to mind who one talked to and what about, and to be careful in the near future not to recruit any more key people until clear instructions were received from the top echelons. The second post was from the same day: “The big eagle has landed, the operation is gaining momentum. Victory is near. Each of us needs to know, nothing is expected of you, only the maximum you can do. Signed, forum administrator.”

  I searched for information on the three arms trading companies that Ehud spoke about. I visited the websites of Schetritt Industries, the Chinese guys whose names I had a hard time pronouncing and the Texan that Ehud mentioned. I couldn’t glean much from the websites. These guys naturally didn’t publicize themselves as weapons dealers, but as importers and exporters, ones that can get hold of anything you need; the operative word being “anything” you need.

  I opened Word Pad for the IP addresses I’d located when I was in Israel, and the central location that unites them. I searched Google Street View for the exact location and tried to see if there was a picture of the place. It turned out to be a large warehouse on East 15th Street, close to the Santa Monica Freeway. The warehouse looked well-guarded, with security fences and floodlights. There was no information about the warehouse and I couldn’t see signs in the vicinity. I searched the web for rentals of the same warehouse, in order to track down relevant e-mail addresses or phone numbers. I found an old ad from about a year ago, someone trying to rent out the warehouse. The landlord email address listed was a guy named Ben from Schetritt Industries. Bingo.

  16

  Paradise Gate Motel, Los Angeles

  “Quite a character you put on my tail.”

  Rami knew exactly who I was talking about. I preferred not to communicate too plainly. While the conversation was encrypted, it was still preferable to avoid disclosing unnecessary and non-crucial data; a long-standing habit.

  “I know what you’re going to say, Yoav, please don’t get on my case first thing in the morning.”

  “I don’t need him,” I tried.

  Silence.

  “Rami, leave complicating factors out of this, he’s a burden to me, I have no patience for him.” Best alone.

  Rami got serious. “He’s the best we’ve got on the West Coast, incredibly connected. You can count on him, he’s a professional. You’re stepping into a world you know nothing about. The small missions you’ve been assigned to in the past were nothing compared to this mission. You’re in the Champions League, Yoav.”

  “Of course,” I said. “What else is new?”

  “What’s new,” Rami said, mimicking me in irritation, “what’s new is that in this league if you don’t turn around fast enough you can find a bullet jammed deep in your back.”

  I hated his righteous sermons. I knew them from Hebron. In his deep, monotonous military voice - “Guys, we’re embarking on a mission, a mission the likes of which was never attempted in Israel and the likes of which will never recur. Each of you can say goodbye to everything held as truth to this day...”

  Blah blah blah, he would go on and on and wear us out. Some things never change.

  “Rami...”

  “In short, you can trust him.”

  “So far it looks like I can’t trust anyone in all this,” I said. “I certainly can’t trust you and the fat guy.”

  “That is your subjective experience,” Rami said coldly. “Where are you?”

  “Stuck in a flea pit of a motel in Los Angeles, budgets aren’t your strong suit, are they?”

  “Good,” Rami ignored me. “You have to find a rental apartment, preferably from Israelis, that way you can get more information about what’s going on there. It’ll be easier for you to assimilate among the Israelis there. The Israeli expats are very pro-Israel and very anti all of the minority groups there. They will provide you with lots of information and give you the protection you need. Ehud briefed you on the big players?”

  “Yes, yes,” I said wearily.

  Rami was silent.

  “It’s Avi Schetritt. I’m absolutely sure of it.“

  “Do not be absolutely sure of anything, Yoav.“

  “You remember the IP addresses that led us to Los Angeles?“

  “Go on.“

  “They are positioned in the vicinity of one central location, which is no less than a warehouse owned by Schetritt Industries.”

  “Sounds interesting,” he said tensely.

  “The warehouse looks secured, I can’t get any more information about it.”

  “It seems you’ll have to infiltrate Schetritt’s organization to acquire information about what’s going on in there. If you’re right and it’s Schetritt mediating between the Foretellers and the Iranians, you’ll be able to acquire information not only about the warehouse and its activity but also...“

  “Exactly what I was thinking, Rami,“ I interrupted him. ”The question is how do I penetrate his organization.“

  “That’s not a problem,“ Rami sai
d, ”but first listen to me. You’re in Los Angeles, things out there work at their own pace, don’t do anything reckless. You must operate so that no one will wise up to you, we have one chance. You’ve got to enter the organization from the back door, from within the community. You have to make him assured that you’re one of the good guys, do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I answered, even though I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Go to the synagogue on Ventura Boulevard.”

  I envisioned his contented smile on the other side of the line. A synagogue.

  “What? Are you out of your mind? What on earth would I be doing in a synagogue? I don’t even know from which end you open the prayer book. Synagogue.“

  When I was a boy, I went to the neighborhood synagogue a few times. It was on religious festivals, something that all the kids did. Dad never went to synagogue except on Yom Kippur. On Yom Kippur he’d go and from the age of nine or ten I’d go with him. One time he cried there; that was the year mom died.

  “Do me a favor,” Rami said, “A synagogue. There will be Jews there, you will find a way into the community and find out what’s going on. Be grateful that in this mission you don’t have to go undercover as a bar songstress or anything like that, and aside from that find Schetritt. Try not to not blow your cover but sniff around a bit, Ehud says Schetritt prays there from time to time.“

  I remembered with regret some of the miserable tasks I have had to carry out, like when we entered a hostile Arab village and we hadn’t been briefed that it was a day of fasting. We walked around innocently carrying a plastic bag with bread inside of it, thinking we were oh so well mixed in with the locals. Two kids clocked us, realized that we were walking around with food on a day of fasting and started shouting. The hail of stones they inflicted on us was one of the more unpleasant things I’ve encountered; we barely got rescued. Perhaps a synagogue will be calmer - I hoped they wouldn’t throw candy.

  “Go to the local synagogue and meet with the Jews who live there. Say you’re new to the area, only good will come out of it. If you’re careful and trustworthy, you can develop relationships and get a lot of information. They’ll also be able to tell you who’s renting out an apartment. Go on Friday evening. They won’t talk business on Friday evening, but believe me, on Saturday evening you’ll get a phone call or a knock on the door.“