

## The Last Enemy

### Part 4 – Volume 2

2071-2084

Luca Luchesini

Edited by Isabel Spinelli

Copyright 2017 by Luca Luchesini

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, business establishments, events and locations is entirely coincidental.

## Part Four

## The New Order
Chapter 13

Dorian entered his office after the quick lunch he had in the cafeteria of the Social Welfare Ministry. Before sitting back at his desk, he looked briefly outside the thick, bulletproof windows. A faint sun had replaced the light morning snowfall. There was a chance he could enjoy the pale light for another four hours before sunset, as the days in early February in Stockholm were getting longer.

Since his next meeting would not start for another thirty minutes, he checked emails to pass time. The list in his inbox was unusually long. He quickly skim read through the sender addresses, just to notice that many of those extra emails came from Michael Fahlstrohm, one of his most vocal opponents in Parliament. Then, some frequent correspondents, and...some from his neighbors?

He picked the second email from Michael Fahlstrom, whose subject line read "A few things you should know".

The email was a long message that explained in detail how, six months before, Michael had orchestrated the media attack against Dorian, alleging he was being bribed by the Telomerax industry. The interesting part was the richness of information on how he had fed journalists with fake news, and how he had managed to extort information from Dorian's staff, for example, taking advantage of an affair between one of her assistant and a spy at Michael's service.

"So there was a mole.." Dorian thought, "...and maybe this is why Astrid asked to change jobs, she realized she was being used but did not want to confess that to me and to the team." He was thinking about running a more thorough investigation, when he then noticed that new messages kept flowing in.

This time, it was his neighbor, Peter Vieh, who was overflowing his mailbox. He double clicked on the last email, just to be redirected to a secret social media page where Peter had posted a video in which he went to unbelievable lengths to insult him and his family. He had taken pictures of Dorian's kids on the way to school, threatening to kidnap and kill them, and he had edited a porn movie replacing the model face with the one of Dorian's wife, Camilla. It was just lurid, and Dorian was shocked. The last serious argument he had had with him dated back to the summer of last year, when the barbecue of Dorian had gone briefly out of control and a lot of smoke had blown into Peter's backyard. But Dorian thought he had resolved it with the excuses and the new mowing machine he had gifted to the Viehs.

"Apparently not," Dorian told himself, "The episode has triggered the venting of a lot of resentment he had accumulated against me, for some reason." He made a mental note to talk to the police, after all Camilla and his kids were living just a few yards away from this man.

Dorian was still pondering the best course of action to take, when Helga, her assistant, opened the door of his office. Dorian looked at the clock, expecting her to inform him there were fifteen minutes left until the meeting, then he realized that Helga was struggling to retain tears.

"Dorian...if you allow me...I need to go back home, it is quite urgent..." Helga's voice broke "The meeting room is ready, and.."

Dorian rushed to her, understanding that something wrong was going on.

"It's alright, Helga, just tell me one thing, before you leave," he took her hands into his, making sure he kept a respectful distance. "Have you received some unusual email in the last few hours? Is this the reason why you are asking to go home early?"

"I, um, yes sir," Helga kept sighing, "I received it a few minutes ago, it is Ingemar, my boyfriend...he is cheating me....I got video footage from the home of his mistress...right now.."

She was trying to finish the sentence when, at the end of the corridor, the door of the office of the public relations slammed open and Stavros Moyssidis, the public relations head, exited screaming, rushing to the parking lot. He was shouting in his Greek mother tongue, which made it difficult to understand the details, yet there was little doubt it was a case like Helga's.

Dorian picked up his phone, just to get a busy tone. The network was overloaded. He switched to the reserved government line, then saw a message from Camilla pop up in his social app. He dropped the call to open the text.

It was a few lines, Camilla wrote that she had heard what seemed to be gunshots in their neighborhood, and she had not been able to reach Dorian by phone, the network was too congested. She was scared. Dorian read the message with some sense of relief, then typed back a quick answer. "Something strange is happening. Stay at home with the kids, do not let anyone in, especially Peter Vieh, our neighbor. I will be back soon." He switched to the office emergency line, after a few seconds the chief of the Ministry security answered.

"Olof, Dorian here. What the hell is going on?"

"I think we are under a massive cyberattack. All the people of my team have received a series of electronic messages full of any sort of evidence, fake or real does not really matter at this point. They all involve betrayals in the circle of their closest relatives, friends and colleagues. I guess you saw something similar."

"Indeed, and what is the scale of the attack? Are they targeting just us, or rather the whole government?" Dorian asked, while tuning his television to the European news channel.

He did not have to wait for the answer of Olof. The news anchor was commenting scenes of shootings in the streets from all major European cities, which quickly moved to the United States as the new day set in.

"Olof?" Dorian realized he had ignored his security guard, while he was watching the news. "Olof, are you still there?"

"Yes, Dorian, I am," Olof replied. "Though I also received a few emails that deserve, um, my full attention...I think it is better to stay here, and manage that later. However, half of my team is unavailable. Some have left, some have plunged in a state of total apathy. Those who are available, are just like me, they have learned something that is keeping their minds insanely busy. I talked to the head of the city police, they are in a similar situation. Seemingly, the level of tension in society has gone through the roof, and they can barely count on half of their force..."

"Half of their force..." Dorian thought, "...all of this while Camilla is next to a resentful, possibly psychopathic neighbor, and I am here, ten miles away, with traffic starting up in no time."

"Olof, do me one favor," Dorian asked assertively. "Issue the highest emergency alert and have all the remaining people meet in the cafeteria. I will try to address the situation shortly."

"Yes sir, however in the meantime we have to get Ulf Thorvaldson out of trouble." Olof answered plainly, politely declining to obey, "He is under siege in his office."

Dorian realized immediately that Olof was right. No one could attract resentment and hate more than the head of the Ministry's human resources department. Dorian got out of his office and rushed down the corridor, toward the office of Ulf. He was still about thirty yards away when he bumped into the crowd, which was pressing on the office door. People were shouting and blaming each other for the missed promotion, or what not. From time to time, they would recite slogans in sync against the director, who was locked away in his office.

Then someone of the crowd realized that Dorian had arrived, and the noise quickly reduced to a low hum. The crowd opened itself, leaving a path to the office door. Dorian felt everyone staring at him, he moved quickly to the office of Ulf, making sure he did not make any eye contact with anyone.

Dorian knocked vigorously on the door, shouting at his HR director. "Ulf, it's Dorian here, please unlock the door. It's alright. We need to talk." Dorian's eyes kept moving between the closed door in front of him and his feet, as he thought, "Shit, Ulf, open this door before it's too late.."

The lock turned open, and Dorian pushed himself inside, while blocking those behind him, to make sure the crowd would not go into the office.

Ulf Thorvaldsen was as pale as a ghost, and he hid all six-foot five-inches of himself behind Dorian, somehow disappearing from sight. Dorian reached the desk, and asked Ulf to activate the broadcast message system, and then turned towards the crowd.

"We have all learned very unpleasant things today. We have all been victims of all kinds of injustice and unfairness, caused not by some obscure, distant power, but from our closest friends."

He paused, as the humming started to subside, then continued.

"Much of this is true. Much is either false or exaggerated. And let's be honest, many of us were also aware of, or suspecting, the bad news we learned, yet we hoped we would never have to confront them."

He paused again, silence filled the room.

"Now we have a choice. Either start pursuing our own revenge, great or small. Or restrain, and before we take any action, think about the messages in which we are not the objects of the evil, but rather the subjects. Billions of emails have been sent out."

He let a few seconds pass, then continued.

"This does not mean that all that has been revealed today will be forgotten, as long as the workplace fairness and ethics of my office are concerned. We will setup a special team to investigate any major violation within our organization, and won't stop at anything or anyone's wrongdoing in respecting workplace rules and procedures. There won't be any untouchables, myself included."

He turned towards Ulf, who immediately nodded in agreement. But it was enough for one of the mobsters, one who stood next to the office door, to break through the crowd and exit the room. People started chatting, shattering the silence, and another few left the room. Little by little, all the rest followed, until Dorian, Ulf and Olof were the only ones left in the office.

Dorian sat on the edge of Ulf's desk, picked up his smartphone from his pocket and looked at the emails. There were new messages from Camilla, his wife, which he frantically opened one after the other. Peter Vieh had indeed come knocking at the door of their house, when he was called away by the screams of his wife and he had to rush back to his house next to Dorian's. All that Camilla knew was in a surveillance camera video she had posted, in which Peter was fighting with an unknown man fleeing his house. It looked like Peter had been eventually stabbed by the intruder, who left him agonizing in the cold. A voice message followed. Camilla had managed to call the police, but she would not go outside, to try to help him. Dorian quickly called her back to approve the decision and assure her that he would be back as soon as possible.

He then turned his attention back to Ulf and Olof. Ulf was typing something at his computer, while Olof was still on the phone.

"What's the situation outside?" Dorian asked, without bothering to interrupt Olof's conversation.

"Still very confused, Sir," Olof answered, "Under control at the Ministry of Interior, but it looks like it's complete havoc nearby the Parliament building. The Royal Palace has been blocked by the guards and seems relatively safe."

Dorian looked at the email again. This time it was from the office of the Prime Minister. He opened it with some hesitation, then he realized that it was just the agenda of the cabinet emergency conference call that had to start in one hour. He could not hide his relief. He looked up from his phone's screen, to see Ulf standing in front of him, holding a sheet of paper with both hands. Dorian stood up from the desk and gently took the sheet out of Ulf's hands.

"Thank you very much for your act of responsibility, Ulf," Dorian said, "I will make sure you find another decent position."

Ulf replied immediately, "This is just a very small sacrifice, compared to what we have risked. The resignation is written in such a way that I can continue to serve as long as you decide to announce it. And thank you for saving our lives, Dorian."

Dorian shook hands with his director and left the room, walking back to his office. The corridors were deserted. All the personnel had left. He closed the office door behind him, and told the automated conference system to prepare for the upcoming cabinet meeting - then he sat back on his chair, exhausted.

The evening shadows were creeping into his office from the windows, punctuated by the Stockholm lights and the small fires that here and there had been set ablaze by protesters. None of them seemed too serious, enough to pose a threat to the city. From time to time, sirens would cut through the night. He realized that the shrieky police sounds were graudally giving way to the softer tones of ambulances and other non-armed emergency services. Dorian thought it was ending, and things would slowly recover. Then, he saw a new email pop up on his computer screen. It was from his father.
Chapter 14

Louis exited the Stockholm Bromma airport doors and was hit by a gust of cold air. He hurried to walk the short distance to the main parking building, where he got his rental car. As soon as he got in, he deactivated the self-driving system, and set the GPS to manual mode. The castle of Drottningholm, the new provisional seat of the Swedish government, was just six miles away.

He drove past the airport area, without being bothered too much by the numerous security checks that had followed the riots of the previous week. He thought that public order in Sweden had been decently restored, at least in comparison to other places in Europe. Snow was covering the landscape in late February, in the midday light the gray sky and the snow tended to blur away the line of the horizon. Louis felt he was driving in some kind of indefinite space, the dark, brown belt of the road suspended in a ghastly luminescent white nothingness.

He eventually reached the palace gate, where police and army vans were patrolling the castle's perimeter. He stopped the car and waited for the guard to come over, while surveillance microdrones immediately flew over his vehicle. When the policeman reached his car, Louis rolled down the window and asked if he had to get out. To his relief, the guard invited him inside.

"It's all right, Mr. Picard, no need to catch a cold. You can enter the castle, just make sure you park in the visitors' lot, on the left side at the end of the main road. I read in my visitors' log that Mr. Dorian Picard will be waiting for you there."

Louis slowly waved his left hand to thank the officer, then rolled up the window and drove through the main gate, till he reached the parking lot. As soon as he turned the car off, he saw a figure with in a blue eskimo, ski hat and scarf, leaving one of the palace doorways. Louis wore his snow cap and before leaving the car he looked at the clock: there were still a couple of hours of daylight before sunset.

He walked towards the figure, when he was fifty yards away. He recognized his walk that it was Dorian and hurried along the narrow pathway, cutting across the snow. To his surprise, Dorian kept his pace unchanged. When he reached him, Louis tried to hug him, but Dorian turned abruptely to the left, heading towards the frozen pond at the center of the garden. Louis thought his son was still under too much stress, and just followed from a distance, raising his voice to make sure he got heard.

"Hi Dorian, how long will you have to stay there? And how are Camilla and the kids now? She told me about your neighbor's attempted attack."

"I will stay here with the rest of the cabinet until the Prime Minister thinks it's safe for the government to go back to the city, the tension is still high and moving government away in the cold helped reduce the number and size of protests over the last days...as if the government were the only culprit."

Louis noticed that Dorian was walking away from the castle, following the pathways into the gardens.

"Well, it was huge." Louis chimed in. "In Italy, they feared the repetition of the Rome attacks of 2027. The world's biggest cities are also not yet under full control, just look at what's going on in Sao Paulo or New York."

"Yes, not to mention the indirect effects of the general loss of confidence." Dorian added, emotionless. Louis tried to continue, while struggling to keep up with Dorian's pace, who kept his distance from Louis.

"Indeed. Lots of people have been fired, following the discovery of all kinds of petty wrongdoings by their employers. Business partners have been suddenly exposed to their mutual betrayals, and this might have more lasting effects than cheating in personal relationships...one thing is suspicion, another is knowing facts." Louis was growing passionate as he spoke, "Just on the plane, I was reading that some economists are predicting a 5 to 10 percent drop in world GDP following the breaking of contracts, lawsuits and increased unemployment - it's just unbelievable. All of this with a huge, carefully targeted wave of emails and texts. The most serious terror attack ever."

"Yes, dad, unbelievable." Dorian commented, emotionlessly. "From the way you talk about it, it doesn't seem you've been hit hard. Hey, we are about to be at the Kina Slottet. A few hundred yards more and we'll reach a small cafeteria where we can get a hot drink."

"The Kina Slottet?" Louis wondered for a second, then he recognized the pagodas of the Chinese pavillion between the snow-covered pines. "Hate messages, you said? No, I didn't get anything serious. Lots of trivial stuff, some of it quite funny, to some extent. Like the mayor of Salina - I learned he does not like the bush of capers I planted in my garden last year and was plotting to secretly poison it overnight..." Louis hesitated to continue his story, then he realized the reason behind the remark of Dorian and subsided. After a few seconds of walking silently in the snow, he asked Dorian.

"You wanted me to come here because of some messages about me, didn't you?"

"You are clever, after all." Dorian welcomed with his first, slight smile that Louis had caught onto the point. He took a small tablet out of his pocket and handed it over to Louis. "Just click on the first video, the one with the title Dubai 2024"

Louis grabbed the tablet and clicked on the video, Dorian noticed that he paled before the video started. The video was showing the interior of an apartment, and had been recorded by a hidden surveillance camera. Nonetheless, it was possible to recognize Louis, Helena, Valerio and Tarek, lively arguing among themselves. Then Tarek left, followed by Valerio. Louis stopped the video.

"It turns out that Helena and you took full advantage of Valerio's penthouse that night, dad," Dorian commented. "I wonder if you had the same level of passion with mom. Maybe during your honeymoon? Time and marriage are known to kill passion, I have experienced that with Camilla as well."

"What do you want me to say?" It took Louis several minutes to answer, "Do you want to know exactly when it started? How long it lasted? Would that change anything about what you are now thinking about me?"

"Not at all, Louis." Dorian switched to his father's first name. He thought that it was maybe the first time he did so in his life. "I do not want any explanation or repentance. There is just one thing I need to know. Was mom aware of all this? Did she bear with it or did she die in happy ignorance?"

They reached the cafeteria. Louis looked inside for the most private table, just to discover that the place was completely empty, except for the bartender.

"They are all gone now," Dorian commented as soon as he detected the slight surprise on his father's face, "I asked the staff to extend the opening hours a bit for us to have a cup of tea without too many people around." Dorian started to remove his jacket, followed by his scarf and the hat. Louis did the same, while he kept his eyes on the floor, as shame and a sense of relief were fighting inside him. He followed Dorian to one of the tables and sat. He ordered a cup of hot chocolate, then turned his sight back to the candle that was in the middle of the table, avoiding to look at Dorian.

"I think she was not aware," Louis said, "At least, she never asked me anything. I would not have had the courage to lie in that case. But she might have realized otherwise....it lasted several months, then Helena and I realized we were making a big mistake and broke up."

"Women always realize when there is something going on with their men." Dorian then started to vent, "Maybe this helped develop the cancer that killed her."

"No!" Louis turned up his head and got close to Dorian, looking at him straight in the eyes, "You cannot blame this on me. You are not my judge. By the time mom developed the first symptoms, my love affair had been over for two years."

Suddenly, Louis felt a punch in the stomach, as if something started moving up to his mouth. He bent over in pain, and fell off the chair. He heard Dorian stand up to reach for him, so he tried to turn towards him.

"I have something in my throat, it's coming up...and my left eye, I see a black spot getting bigger..."

He was overwhelmed by a sense of nausea and pain, and fainted.
Chapter 15

When Louis opened his eyes, he could still feel pain in his throat. It felt like he had just gotten over a horrible flu, except that he was missing all the other symptoms of a cold. He slowly looked around, he was laying in a very neat, albeit windowless, hospital room. He remembered that, just before falling unconscious, he was losing sightcin his left eye. Luckily, both his eyes seemed tobe ok now.

He then started to check if his arms and legs were responsive to his commands. All seemed to work fine, thank God. Just the right arm was connected to what seemed to be the usual set of tubes for hydration and life parameters' monitors. He was almost done with his check, when a nurse entered his room and started talking in Swedish above his head. She then looked at him, smiled, and switched to English.

"Dr. Picard, you are out of life danger now. Just lay down and do not make any unnecessary movement. You are going to receive visits today."

She had just finished the sentence, when the door opened again, and three people in dark, blue uniforms entered and moved close to his bed. The trio was led by a tall, red-headed woman with long, wavy hair, who took place to the right of Louis and quickly turned her eyes around to make sure the rest of her team was in place before starting to speak. The woman eventually set her eyes straight on Louis, who summoned all his energy to sustain her glance and managed to sit upn the bed.

"Good morning, Dr. Picard. My name is Erika Fryjansdottir, and I am the Chief Inspector of Stockholm's criminal police," the woman talked to him in a soft, yet very assertive tone, in flawless French, "I regret to inform you that you are under arrest, because you are suspected to be part of the plot that led to the assassination of our Welfare Minister, your son, Dorian Picard."

Louis gaped in astonishment. Dorian killed? When? It must have been after he felt sick. And how? Why was he a suspect?

"My son...Dorian...killed? How is it possible? He was perfectly alive, in front of me..." Louis was overwhelmed by disbelief. Erika quickly put it together, and her tone became more gentle.

"Dr. Picard, you have been a victim of an Implanted Self-assemblying Attack Nanodrone, or ISAN, as it is called now. It is a microscopic electro-organic device that gets implanted in a host body, and then uses the host to build up in size until the victim reaches the target. Once the host is close enough to the objective, the nanodrone ejects itself out of the body and attacks the victim, usually with a lethal toxin." Erika paused to make sure Louis understood her explanation. "This is what happened to you. The ISAN you were carrying bit and killed Dorian, and left you alive, which is quite an exception, as in all known cases so far, ISANs also kill the host."

Louis recalled having read about ISANs as one of the latest frontiers in weapons engineering, a few months back. He was carrying the weapon who killed his son. He was the weapon. He laid back on the bed, to stare at the ceiling, trying to process things and most importantly, trying to resist breaking down into tears. As soon as he thought he had gained back control, he turned his eyes toward the Chief Inspector.

"Alright, Inspector, I understand I am on the suspect list," Louis managed to be as calm as possible, "You just cannot rule out the possibility that a father might willingly help to kill of his son, can you?"

"Well, not only that, Dr. Picard," Erika jumped in, her tone becoming softer and softer, as she perceived the pain of Louis, "You are also a precious link, the most precious I would dare saying, to find out more about who and what is behind the death of your son. That's mainly why you are under arrest, as a precautionary measure for now."

"To hell with precautions," Louis snapped back, rage replacing sorrow. "This is still supposed to be a civilized and democratic country, otherwise my son would not have bet his life on it. I want to see a lawyer, and contact my relatives. I will get out of here, rest assured."

Erika seemed to like Louis' reaction, and answered with the closest thing to a smile she had managed so far.

"Of course, Dr. Picard. We already informed your relatives, who rushed here in no time and hired the most famous Swedish attorney," Erika said, without hiding her admiration for him taking immediate initiative, "They are just outside here. We will let them in right away, if you agree, of course. But I needed to be present at your awakening, that's the procedure."

"So much for the procedure, Inspector," Louis replied impatiently, "you have done your damn good job, please let them in now."

"One more thing, Dr. Picard," the Chief Inspector continued, now unappreciative of Louis' impatience, "You are not allowed to stay alone with them during the first meeting. That's another part of the procedure. In any case, all conversations will be recorded. I have to warn you."

Louis was about to vent again, but noticed that Erika pressed a button next to the bed, so he stayed silent. A very long minute passed, then the door opened, and Helena entered the room, followed by a short, blond and extremely well-dressed guy.

"That must be the lawyer," Louis thought, immediately standing up and trying to get off the bed to hug Helena, who walked slowly, while supporting her back with one hand. Louis realized that the birth was just a couple of weeks away when he had left for Sweden, and he did not know how long he had stayed unconscious. He resisted the temptation to hug Helena with all his might. He caressed her gently on the cheeks instead, and he asked her,

"Why did you come up here? You could have seen me through Holocall, and just send the lawyer....you risked delivering the baby while you were on the road."

Helena kissed Louis and hissed, "You just stop the bullshit, the baby will be born where his father and mother need to be. Which happens to be, most probably, the medical ward of the maximum security prison of Stockholm, Sweden." She then pulled herself away and started squaring off Erika and the two other policemen.

"I think this was supposed to be a private conversation, wasn't it?" Helena said to Erika, who did not budge.

"Actually no, you have been informed that in the first meeting an officer from the Criminal branch would be present," Erika remarked calmly, "But you do have a point, Madam." She turned her eyes to the door and hinted to the two other policemen, who immediately left the room. Erika pulled away from the bed, and went to stand in the corner opposite of Helena. The two women exchanged glances. Helena eventually nodded her head to the right in a sign of appreciation, then she turned back to Louis.

"The gentleman next to me," she said, while the man hurried to shake Louis' hand, "is Mats Vestberg, one of the best Swedish criminal attorneys." Helena paused and looked at Erika, who nodded. Helena continued.

"You have been unconscious for two days. We were notified immediately after the attack and flew over here," Helena was rushing all she had learned in the last 48 hours. "This new shit they used, the ISANs, is very new. I mean, its deadly application. There are only six known cases, in the last two years, and you are the first one where the victim survives and claims to be innocent. So it's normal these guys are overly suspicious."

"Helena, it was not me," Louis stopped her, to state with all the strength he had, "whoever it was, they managed to implant the drone seed in me."

"That's exactly what we have to prove to get you out of here, darling," Helena commented, "but it will be awfully difficult. You are the first case of this kind on the planet."

"Have you contacted Dinesh?" Louis asked, "His company is very active in nanodrones, I mean, legal ones. He might be able to help us."

"Of course I did...as well as other people who might be knowledgeable about the, um..." Helena looked at Erika, who was eagerly listening, despite the conversation being recorded, "...more controversial applications of this technology."

Louis laid back again, exhausted, and a moment of silence followed. The lawyer seized the opportunity to enter the conversation.

"Dr. Picard, I have to tell you what I told your wife as to why I willingly accepted your case. You are the key piece in the most important political crime in Sweden in decades, and a foreign national. This means you are an international case, and you have to prepare to accept strong restrictions to your freedom for several months to come. There is no easy bail out in cases like yours."

Louis started to realize what all this meant. He looked at the lawyer and asked.

"Alright, Mr. Vestberg, let's go step by step. Does that mean I won't be able to attend the funeral of my son? Or assist to the birth of my new baby?"

The lawyer looked at Helena, who nodded and answered.

"The funeral is taking place today. Camilla asked to have a totally private ceremony, I was not invited either." Helena waited for a sign of surprise from Louis, which did not come. She then continued, "As for the birth of Hannah, I told you - I will deliver her here, in the prison medical ward, so you can be with me. There sometimes happen to be very nice people in the police."

She looked at Erika, who smiled back.
Chapter 16

Yaakov entered the lounge of the executive office on the 106th floor of the New Trust Industries skyscraper, and enjoyed the amazing sight of Mumbai Bay. He could see that the Gate of India and the Taj Mahal hotel were basically all that was left of old Mumbai, the rest had been replaced by shiny new buildings built by the very same architects who had designed Dubai, and had then moved to India in the aftermath of the war. He was about to plunge into a rant about the twists of history, when one of the assistants, a gorgeous lady dressed in a magnificent red and gold sari, told him he could enter the office of Dinesh Kheradpir, the company's chief executive.

As he entered the room, he noticed that Dinesh was not waiting for him next to the meeting table, but he waved to join him at the bar instead.

"Hi, Yaakov, and welcome to India," he cheered, as he worked through the preparation of a cocktail, "If I recall it right, you are a fan of mojitos, right?"

"You are right, Dinesh," Yaakov replied, "and a cup of tea as well, if I may. It's still a bit early for mojitos, at five o'clock in the afternoon, but it will help us think, nonetheless."

"Any more updates since the last time we talked, Yaakov?" Dinesh turned serious, "I mean, not about the baby. I know Helena had Hannah last week, and they are both fine. Louis sent me the pictures. I am so sorry he was in prison for the birth of his first daughter."

"I was able to go through the analysis of the drone rests, that the Swedish police had to share with Louis, the defendant," Yaakov said, "Helena sent it to me right away, to have the view from the 'dark side', as I like to call it."

"And?" Dinesh said, pushing Yaakov to continue.

"It confirms my initial opinion," Yaakov said, as he sipped his mojito, "the ISAN is undoubtedly based on your latest medical nanodrone, the Trust Industries MND-2, reprogrammed to bring a toxin payload instead of anti-cancer drugs. It is the only model on the market that is made of two separate modules, a drug-delivery unit and a nerve-system probe to measure simultaneously the body's reaction to the treatment, with the two units communicating through the host's nervous system of the body."

"They modified the drug-delivery unit to carry the toxin and the nerve probe to connect to the visual system of Louis to make sure he was close to Dorian, right?" Dinesh asked.

"It looks so, but it's not that important now," Yaakov confirmed, "The good news is that only your company can build the basic kit, so we can go through all the buyers and check for any suspects. Most importantly, we can demonstrate to the Swedish court that the drone has been implanted into Louis' body against his will. This will help get him out of jail big time."

"How can you be so sure that no one else can build something like the MND-2?" Dinesh asked.

"I am not one-hundred percent sure, I just asked my friends at the Mossad," Yaakov answered. "They told me that, if they wanted to organize an attack like the one on Dorian, the easiest and fastest way would be to re-program a MND-2, which you sell anyway with a developer's kit for surgeons. Obviously, I cannot bring this testimony to court, but I do not need to. On the other hand, Helena might need to call some of your big experts to make the case that no one else can legally build that kind of drone."

"This is already understood and agreed, I have all my marketing and R&D top brass ready to fly to Sweden on short notice," Dinesh brushed Yaakov concerns aside, "However, who do you think implanted the drone into Louis? The prosecutors will be very interested in knowing that, and there are several ways to inject a drone seed into someone's body. In the case of the MND-2 some are as easy as drinking a cocktail. The host would just mistake the seed for a small piece of ice."

"Yep, we have to do the investigation job," Yaakov continued, "Luckily, the seed cannot stay in the host's body indefinitely before starting the development sequence, otherwise the risk of being recognized and destroyed by the immune system grows too much."

"Correct," Dinesh noted, pleasantly surprised by the competence Yaakov showed, "In the case of the MND-2, it is three months."

"So, that's exactly what Helena and I are doing. We are analyzing everything that Louis did, where he went, whom he met, in the three months that led up to the attack. Well, four months, just to be sure," Yaakov said. "We need video footage of where he has been - anything we can find. Then, we will correlate this with the buyers' data that we need from you."

"You will have them, no doubt. I will make an exception to the company's privacy code. That's what you can afford when you are both the chief executive and the biggest shareholder," Dinesh chuckled, "Anything else you need from me, to help Louis out of trouble?"

"Yes, Dinesh," Yaakov said thankfully, "We need your experts view on the toxin analysis. According to the Swedes, it is a derivative of a chemical used by the Indian Army during the war, but they couldn't come up with a lot more information. If this is the case, it shouldn't be such a big issue for you to find someone..how can we say..knowledgeable, with the product."

"Absolutely. Put all the stuff together and I will follow up with that personally," Dinesh replied, while he collected the empty glass from Yaakov and started preparing the tea, "Now, if I can ask you something, Yaakov...."

"Sure, Dinesh," Yaakov encouraged him, "I'll do my best to answer."

"I know you are no longer in active service, but.." Dinesh hesitated a short while and then continued, "What is your former employer's view about the origin of the biggest cyberattack of the century?"

"My former employer's view?" Yaakov seemed baffled, "Probably just the same as the Indian secret service, I guess."

Dinesh burst into laughter, "Come on, Yaakov," he smiled, "Our secret service has no clue, even though three of my country's biggest data centers have been hijacked by the malicious bots to launch the attack." He paused and continued, "I was looking for some more reliable views, but if you cannot comment..never mind."

Yaakov thought about how much Helena and Louis needed Dinesh's support, then he talked.

"Well, yours was not the only country to have the major data centers hijacked. We know the attack was extremely distributed and global, what I overheard is that bots originated in Africa, the Middle East and Japan before spreading to the rest of the world. Not the JRC. We are pretty obsessed with security, as you know."

"Yet Israel, so far, is one of the winners of all the turmoil. The remnants seized the opportunity of chaos in the Arabian Union to extend control over Galilea and parts of the West Bank," Dinesh commented, "Basically, the Negev desert is the only piece of land missing to bring Israel back to the pre-war situation."

"You call that progress, I call it a bigger problem for the JRC," Yaakov replied, coldly, "But that's my personal view. I am much more worried about other issues."

"For instance?" Dinesh asked.

"The unstoppable growth of the Navibahais, for example." Yaakov replied, "Their leader, Farlimas, is now the de facto boss of all of West Africa. One of the trade companies he controls has just been granted the right to send payloads via the Orbital Elevator, skipping the extreme international security inspections. This is a privilege very few private companies even have."

"Well, thank goodness we have people like him, Yaakov," Dinesh replied. "His continuous appeal to calm and forgive, along with the influence he exerted in India via the local Navibahais, definitely played a role in stopping the violence. He fought the wildfire of anger like a real firefighter."

"Yes," Yaakov realized he had no solid argument he could counter with, "the firefighter and the arsonist at the same time. Forget that, Dinesh. The thing is, I am growing way too cynical with age."

"Or maybe you are just too tired," Dinesh said dismissively, as he handed over the teapot, "You are doing tremendous work helping Helena and Louis. You can count on me, please tell them. I will do whatever I can to get Louis out of trouble. I have always looked up to him."

"Thank you, Dinesh," Yaakov said, standing up to greet him, "I will let them know. Hopefully, it will seem like we have a good track record to get them out of prison."
Chapter 17

The apartment bell rang, and Louis hurried to open the door, before the noise could wake up little Hannah, whom he had just managed to put to sleep.

Erika Fryjansdottir and Mats Vestberg appeared in front of him. Erika was now wearing civilian clothes, and that alone made the looks of the lawyer somehow less fashionable. They entered the small living room, which served also as the kitchen, and sat around the square table in the corner.

"It looks quite comfortable here," Mats Vestberg said, "aside from the armored bars at the window, you would not say you are in a prison."

"It is," Louis confirmed to Mats, "It's not exactly like home, but it made the arrival of Hannah way better than it might have been. I guess it's thanks to you, Mats."

"Well, Louis, not only," Mats answered, looking at Erika, "You should be more thankful to the women around you, starting with Helena, who today cannot join us as she is traveling for your sake, but also Chief Inspector Fryjansdottir here. I asked, but they really made it possible."

Louis looked at Erika and felt a bit ashamed, he immediately turned his eyes to the table and changed subject.

"Um, you're right, I guess we have to start discussing the terms of my release on parole today, don't we?"

"Yes," Erika jumped in, "Let's not waste time and get going. I carefully sifted through the documentation you provided to the court over the last two days and nights. I think it is insufficient, and I will ask the Attorney General to keep you here under custody."

"Insufficient?" Louis looked at Mats in disbelief, "I think New Trust Industries and the other experts provided ample evidence that there is no ground you can accuse me of being a part. The drone was implanted in my body against my will, I am a victim as much as Dorian and.."

"Dr. Picard," Erika cut him short, "It seems you are not getting the point at all. It's not about you being part of the plot or not, it's about your safety and security, considering you are the only link we have to the instigators."

Erika stopped and looked at Mats, who stayed silent. She then continued.

"The evidence you provided in the last days, well, trust me," she puffed, "I was already convinced you did not play a part of the scheme when I watched your reaction as you learned the news of the death of Dorian. Maybe that's because I am a woman and I get certain things before you men do them."

"However," she took a deep breath and continued, "I also told you we were keeping you under surveillance because you are a key piece of the investigation. The truth is, we had no progress on that front. But somehow, you seem to have forgotten."

Mats let some time pass, then went on,

"Louis, the Chief Inspector is right," he said with some embarrassment, "the Attorney General has set three conditions to let you out of jail, that is, evidence that you are likely a victim, measurable progress about the possible instigators, and a guarantee that you will be safe and at disposal of the Swedish government, in case you are needed. We fulfill just one."

Louis looked up at the ceiling, then at his lawyer.

"Mats, we have not discussed it yet with Helena, but we might disclose what we have learned from the analysis of my whereabouts in the four months prior to the attack." Mats barely budged. "As long as you think that the evidence is solid enough." Louis added.

"It's your choice, Louis," Mats commented, "Yours and Helena's, I'd better say. From a legal standpoint, it's relevant information."

Louis took his phone and disappeared into the bedroom. He knew the conversation with Helena would be listened to anyway, but closed the door as a resemblance of privacy between him, Helena and the rest of the world. After a few minutes, he came back out, with a smile on his face. He looked straight at Erika and sat opposite of her.

"Alright, Inspector, here's the deal," Louis said, "what I tell you now will of course be properly documented later for the court, but I need to know if this will change your views."

Erika smiled, and tilted her head towards Louis.

"I am listening, Dr. Picard."

"I have spent most of the time in Salina, Sicily, as I use to do during winter. The analysis of video footage and other sensors of my house excludes that any of my guests, and I have had many, has implanted the drone seed there. That is the easy part."

"Most of the time, you said," Erika noted.

"Indeed. I have left Salina on three occasions, and there, we are lacking precise data, or at least it's not so easy to collect it." Louis said, thoughtfully.

"The first one, I spent a week around Christmas time at the mansion of Tarek Tantawy, my old friend, near Alexandria, Egypt. I asked him for the surveillance data, and Helena flew there yesterday to get them, so we should be able to tick this off shortly. The second one is a bit more of a problem, it was the 12th World Telomerax Conference in Los Angeles, in late November. You will need to ask US authorities to share the information, but it was in any case a public event, so some data should be available, too. And last, the trickiest one. Just before flying to Stockholm, Helena and I spent a few days in Palermo, Italy. It was a short break we took while waiting for the birth of Hannah. The problem is, I am quite sure we have very little or no surveillance coverage in the places we visited at the time."

Erika did not look discouraged.

"Alright, can you at least make an exhaustive list of all the places you have been to, as well as of all the people who were aware of your holiday break?" she said calmly, "That could help us correlate suspects with places, in any case possibilities are narrowing down."

"Yes, we are working on that." Louis replied, "It will come with the rest of the release bid."

"So, can we say that this leaves only the third point to be addressed?" Mats jumped in, "The security and availability guarantees?"

Louis and Mats looked at Erika, who was pondering an answer, when Hannah started crying loudly from the bedroom. Louis got up and hurried to get the baby from the bed, while Erika and Mats waited in the living room. After a few minutes, the crying had not stopped, if anything, Louis was adding an off-key lullaby to the noise. Erika stood up and went to the bedroom, hinting at Louis to pass the baby over to her.

She lulled Hannah for a short while, as the baby kept crying she turned back to Louis, ordering him to get the feeding bottle. Louis rushed back and forth from the microwave oven, Erika grabbed the bottle from Louis' hand and gave it to Hannah, saying "She was just hungry," while continuing to hold the baby in her arms.

Hannah started eating, and calmed down instantly. Louis looked at the scene, and could not resist to ask the question.

"Do you have any children yourself, Inspector?"

"No, I don't," Erika replied with a whisper, without diverting her attention from Hannah, "My boyfriend Gunnar and I have yet to make a decision, whether or not to have a baby in the next few months. We both have very demanding jobs, you know."

"Oh, if you allow me to boast, Inspector," Louis said, trying out some wit, "Telomerax made time not an issue nowadays..."

The Chief Inspector opened her eyes wide and looked at Louis, a large, ironic smile stamped on her face.

"Do you really think so, Dr. Picard?" she said, "I didn't feel that big help from Telomerax, when I made the decision that Gunnar was the right guy for me after a few previous mistakes. Nor is Telomerax changing the fact that you men can generate babies until you are more than one-hundred years old, but you soon forget how to take care of them."

Hannah stopped feeding and fell asleep. Erika placed her gently back into the cradle, then headed back to the living room and looked at Louis.

"I think we can get back to business now. We still have several important points to address."

Louis, feeling like an idiot, stood up and followed Erika to the living room, where Mats was fiddling with his computer, growing increasingly uncomfortable. As soon as Louis and Erika sat back at the table, he continued as if nothing had happened.

"So, about the security and availability guarantees," Mats recalled, "The proposal of my client, Dr. Picard, is that he returns to his home in Salina, Sicily, and stays there under house arrest until the case is solved. He is ready to accept some sort of surveillance from the Swedish government, if needed."

"That requires the agreement of Italian authorities, you know," Erika noted immediately, "What if they refuse?"

"Under the terms of the Treaty of Budapest of 2059, the one that gave birth to the Euro-Russian Federation of which also Sweden is a part of," Mats answered, now visibly at ease, "the crime for which Dr. Picard is under investigation, fully falls in the federal offense cases. As such, the governments of member states cannot resist cooperation. There might be some negotiation to do on the how's, but certainly not on the if's and what's. I am willing to help the Office for Criminal Prosecution there, if need be."

"Thanks, Mr. Vestberg," Erika replied, "I do not think we can afford your rates, though. My department just does not have the budgets for lawyers of a world celeb and tycoon like Dr. Picard." She stood up, looking at Louis. "Alright, looks like we made some real progress today. Dr. Picard, you might have a path out of this prison, just make sure that all we discussed today is covered in detail in the instance you are going to file to the criminal court of Stockholm next week."

Louis shook hands with Erika, and as she was crossing the apartment door he added.

"I assume that in the court documents I can skip the lesson about baby feeding and all the rest we talked about in the bedroom, can't I?"

Erika laughed, as Mats looked puzzled.

"Of course, Dr. Picard. That, you have to file with Helena."

Chapter 18

The waves were breaking on the white beach of Marsa Matruh, Egypt, capturing Tarek's attention every now and then, in a way that was increasingly unnerving Helena. The two were sitting on the veranda of his studio, in the biggest villa on the compound.

"So, what is the problem you have with the surveillance data I gave you two months ago?" Tarek asked again.

Helena puffed, and repeated the argument she had been repeating for the past several weeks.

"Tarek, I've told you many times. It looks counterfeited. Not all of it, but there are some sequences that appear to be retouched. One of them is particularly important, as it is the video from the kitchen."

"So the video, according to you, is fake. How can you say that?" Tarek was growing irritated, too. "As soon as I heard about what happened to Louis and Dorian, I locked all the files and I sent them to you right away, that very same evening. I knew you would need them."

"Tarek, we need the evidence to be bulletproof. We want to rule you and your relatives out of the suspect list," Helena made a point to herself to stay as calm as possible, as she continued, "So we got this data through a special software that can detect any digital remastering, with the removal or insertion of video sequences."

"So, this software came up with the result that there is a _slight_ probability," Tarek admitted, "let me repeat, a slight probability that the video is counterfeited, so you do not want to show up in court."

"Exactly, it would ruin our chances to get Louis out on bail," Helena said, "We need the right one, no matter what."

"I have no other videos, Helena," Tarek replied, "I also run some tests using commercial software, and it looks OK. By the way, where is your software coming from? Hollywood? Or Bollywood? Or somewhere else?"

Helena hesitated, then replied.

"Come on, Tarek, don't play naïve with me. I asked some friends to test it on the most sophisticated stuff that is available on the planet today. It's possible that not even the Swedes have access to it, but I want to make sure our evidence is solid. Which it's not."

"I see, Helena, maybe from our friends living in the island up North?" Tarek commented calmly, "I would have expected a heads-up call from Yaakov, if that was the case. After all, I came back from Farlimas with the name of his mole, Shlomo Bakran. He owes me a favor, don't you think?"

"Yaakov has not worked with Mossad for a long time, you know," Helena rebuffed, "In any case, I cannot disclose the source, Tarek, I can only tell you it is a secret service, and a serious one."

"Of course, of course, Helena," Tarek continued, "I understand you must be professional and not disclose your sources, or, God forbid, break agreements. It's just another measure of how things have changed."

"What do you mean, Tarek," Helena asked, while sipping her tea, and anticipating his answer.

"When it all started, we had no secrets," Tarek said, softly, his eyes captured once again by the waves, "then over time we somehow lost a bit of trust naturally. How long before we become full strangers?"

"Many things change over time, Tarek," Helena conceded, "You also seem to have changed since you came back from Yamassoukro. Did Farlimas make such a great impression on you?"

"I told you and Yaakov during the meeting we had when I was back," Tarek said, "He is an incredibly smart man. If you really want to go against him, you must get rid of the idea that he is just a crook, and those who follow him just morons. He is leveraging on the very same aspirations that led people to turn to Telomerax, after all."

"From what you told me, he is just another religious idiot," Helena cut short, "I have had enough of them."

"You see? You don't get the point," Tarek showed his disappointment, "You should respect him as a honest competitor, but you keep resent him. On the other hand, I must say the attitude is mutual."

"Back on topic, you confirm you have no other data than the one you sent us?" Helena asked again.

"Yes, and I cannot do anything if some unknown secret software does not agree with me, Helena," Tarek said, then turned his head backwards to the door. Ali was entering, dressed in Navibahai attire, which immediately caught Helena's attention.

"Isn't that a bit too cold in February, even if we are in Egypt, it's still winter," Helena asked, but Ali just ignored the question and rather started to collect the tea cups onto the tray. He then stopped and looked at Tarek.

"Alright, I think we are done here," Helena said, as she stood up, and folded her laptop. "I hope the Swedish court does not consider the evidence tampered, otherwise Louis will spend a lot more time in jail."

Tarek didn't have time to articulate a greeting, before Helena had already left the veranda. He pondered if he had to hurry to take her to the exit, when Ali grinned, "No need to worry, grandpa, she knows where the exit is. You allowed her to land her convertiplane right in the courtyard."

"You are right, Ali, she knows the way out," Tarek replied, lighting up a cigar, "You came at the right time, the conversation was going nowhere."

"Actually, I thought it was over altogether, you spent more than two hours with her. I have great news to tell you, grandpa," Ali was beaming, "I just got a call from the Supreme Council of the Navibahais."

"So what?" Tarek grew curious, "I see you cannot resist sharing."

"It's a secret, grandpa. Keep it for yourself," Ali said, as if he had already said too much. But it was too late now, and his grandfather would have found out anyway. "The Council, which you know, means Farlimas, has made the decision that I will be the first Navibahai pilot to train for Space Elevator missions."

Tarek stood up and hugged his nephew, "So proud of you, Ali," he said, "One day you will take me with you, promise!"

"Well, it will take some time. I will undergo six months of ground training, then a few extra months as co-pilot."

"Sounds good, so by the end of the year you will take me to the stars, right?" Tarek snapped back.

Ali mumbled something, but Tarek could not hear it, because in that moment the convertiplane of Helena flew way above their heads, its turbines roaring at full power.

From the window, Helena saw Tarek and Ali standing next to each other, the tea tray in front of them. She quickly turned away, as if she feared to be caught spying. Then, she turned her eyes back again, but the compound had already disappeared and only the sea was visible below her. She waited a few minutes, then, as soon as the plane reached cruise level in the direction of Stockholm, she looked into her contact list and called Dinesh on the secure line.

"Helena, is it you?" Dinesh was genuinely surprised to receive the call, "Anything wrong with Louis?"

"Hi Dinesh, not really, but quite close," she said, "Just let me know one thing, how many clinics in Europe can find out if someone has got an MND-2 implanted?"

"Not that many, Helena, it's relatively new technology," Dinesh thought as he spoke, "I would say the best place today in Europe is the Schwabing Klinik in Munich, Germany. More are being qualified as the product spreads...why are you asking me? Louis needs further checks?"

"No I was just curious," Helena replied briskly, "Could you just fly one of your MND-whatever experts there? Right now? I will tell you why, later."

Dinesh was taken by surprise but did not hesitate.

"Sure, Helena, I would do anything for Louis, you know that."

"Thanks, Dinesh, I know I can count on you," Helena answered, in the kindest tone she could manage, and hung up. She then moved to the cockpit, looked at the captain and ordered,

"Call European air traffic control right away. We are changing routes. Make a stop in Munich before continuing to Stockholm. Duration undefined," she stated, "However, make sure you communicate the route change only when we have left the Egyptian airspace. I need to place a few more calls and then could use some sleep, so do not disturb me in the cabin. Wake me once when we have landed."

"Yes, Ma'am," the captain confirmed. "We'll see you only when we reach Munich."

Chapter 19

Yaakov looked at the data once again, as he had done hundreds of times in the last two weeks, and decided he needed to get out of the house. He sped down the hill of the Mount of Olives, and continued along the road that led to the Monastery of Getsemani. The mild spring temperature energized him to step up his pace and go over all he had learned once again.

The MND-2 that had been found in Helena two weeks before had been designed to activate in six months, a longer time than the one used on Louis. This time, the target was Louis, and, given the circumstances, there was little doubt that the drone had been implanted in Egypt, at Tarek's mansion, to be more precise, as it was the only place visited by Helena outside Sweden, where she was under high security like Louis.

This was already disturbing, but even more than that, it was the analysis done by the experts of Dinesh. Both drones belonged to a lot that had been shipped to the United States, to hospitals run by Jewish organizations. The recovery of the second intact drone had made it possible to decode the software embedded in the drone, and it was clearly not the work of medical software developers, but somebody way more skilled, familiar with weapon development. One of the developers had even put his initials, GG, in the comments to the most difficult coding sequences, as if he wanted to reuse his work somewhere else.

All this, Yaakov and Helena agreed, pointed to some connection between Tarek and the Mossad. But why, if the target was Louis, not kill him right away, together with Dorian, a few weeks before?

It was not easy at all to figure out. If anything, this program at Mossad would be classified with the highest security, and any attempt by Yaakov to use his sources to gather more information would be immediately detected, letting their enemies know that they knew, whoever the enemy might be. For the very same reason, there was no point in confronting Tarek directly, and alert him that someone in his circle was against them. After all, they had six months to do their own research. Wrong, Yaakov corrected himself immediately, five months and a half.

As he ran past the Monastery of Getsemani, Yaakov could not help but notice that the usual line of pilgrims had dwindled down time and again. On the other hand, the road was busy with lorries that brought construction materials to Bethlehem, where the Navibahais were building a new, massive temple that would dwarf the Basilica of the Nativity. Apparently, Christians were losing faith in the divinity of Jesus by the day, but, contrary to what Yaakov thought, they didn't become Jews. They converted to Navibahaism instead. He realized he was drifting astray from his line of thought, so he changed direction, heading towards the Tomb of the Virgin Mary, and continued thinking.

He felt once again that he had to restart from the two initials. GG. For some reason, a software developer had managed to break all the security rules and had signed his work, just like an artist. He could not leave a full name, obviously, it would have been detected by the compiler, but a couple of initials in the middle of an otherwise purely technical comment to a code sequence, were innocuous enough to let the compiler think it was only a typo.

How to find out more? He reached the Tomb of the Virgin Mary, and saw a small kiosk that used to sell refreshments to pilgrims, in the place right at the beginning of the stairs that led to the Tomb. It was about noon, and the kiosk used to be busy serving pilgrims, both Christians and Muslims, but again, the old crowds had disappeared. Yaakov decided he would help, so he stopped and ordered a lemon-based integrator.

The kiosk owner turned out to be a Jewish Russian, who had a small television set tuned to the main Russian news channel. Yaakov started drinking his bottle, when the Breaking News titles started sliding across the screen, by passing a seemingly excited anchorwoman. The images moved to show the Kremlin, and long motorcades of dark cars and vans moving in and out of the Spasskaya Tower.

The kiosk owner looked at Yaakov and volunteered to translate, but Yaakov thanked him and said he could understand the language, so the owner immediately started talking in Russian to Yaakov.

"What bullshit," the owner said, "This new guy that has replaced President Irina Kanchelskaya, Anatoly Gorshkov, he is a real asshole. The perfect _appartchik_ , completely _nekulturniyj_."

"Irina did not manage to resist the flood of revelations," Yaakov commented, "It's a real pity, she was a great president."

"Assholes," the owner was visibly upset, "My compatriots have tolerated tyrants and thieves for centuries. Now, the most powerful Russian woman since the time of Catharine the Great, the general who defeated the Chinese at the Jenisej river during the war, has to resign because of the wave of shit that popped up a few months ago, because it became known, among many other corruption scandals engulfing their colleagues, that she had had an affair with an Arab, when she was serving the _Rodina_ as a secret agent in the Emirates seventy years ago. Assholes!"

Yaakov raised his eyebrows, showing he shared the pessimism of the kiosk owner.

"She is not the first politician to fall," he commented, "also in the JRC and in the Strip, careers have been taken away by the Great Leak. My name is Yaakov, by the way," he said, extending his hand.

"I am Lev, nice to meet you," the owner said, shaking hands, "Thanks for keeping my business alive today. It is my last day here. Tomorrow I move to Haifa, at the Navibahai's first temple."

"Following the business, I guess," Yaakov said, "thanks for telling me anyway, I'm glad I chose your kiosk."

"Yes, following the business," Lev confirmed, "you see Farlimas, he emerged as the purest leader on Earth and his flock keeps increasing. Money follows flocks, I follow money, easy. My former army comrade Gursky has set up a kiosk in Haifa and cannot cope with the demand, so he asked me to join him, there is glory for everybody, he told me and..."

"What did you say?" something popped up in Yaakov's mind, "What's your friend name, you said?"

Lev gave Yaakov a strange look, and tracked back the flow of his speech,

"My friend, you mean? Gursky, Ben Gursky. He's a Jewish Russian like me, we served in the Army in Cyprus and then.." he hadn't finished his sentence, that Yaakov had shook his hand and waved him goodbye. He headed directly home. Lev looked around, there were just five people that looked at his kiosk, but then they decided to go downstairs to visit the Tomb first.

"Never mind, Lev," he thought, "Tomorrow in Haifa will be a lot better."

When Yaakov reached home, he rushed to the safe where he kept his memory sticks. He picked the one where he had stored the data of the third decade of the century, and inserted it into the spinal jack at the base of his head. The file system structure appeared in his mind, and he searched for the keyword 'Gursky'. Many documents appeared in his consciousness, he added the keyword 'discipline' to the search, and there it appeared, the detailed record of Guil Gursky.

Yaakov read carefully through, the file held the history of an extremely talented developer, who had worked in the team that had developed the software for the first generation of killer flies, but had the weakness of boasting too much and to the wrong people about his work. In his case, the wrong people had happened to be his wife, who had denounced him to the Shin Bet. He had to be dismissed from the team, and later found another job in a private company, right after having divorced from his wife.

Yaakov disconnected the stick and put it back into the safe. He then went to his computer, and searched for Guil Gursky, getting only links to outdated social media pages. It looked as if Guil Gursky had disappeared from real life years ago. Was he still alive? If not, what would be the most efficient way to find out? The public registry would not disclose data to a private citizen like him, nor could he use his channels. Was Gursky dead or alive? This is what he had to find out right away. After a few minutes of pondering, he rang the call center of the Ha'aretz newspaper, and asked to be connected to the obituary department. He was eventually connected to a human operator.

"Hi, I am calling because one of my army comrades died, but I forgot where the funeral is taking place," Yaakov said, "I heard this from a friend who read the obituary in your newspaper."

"Alright, and the name of the person is?" the operator asked, sounding somewhat annoyed.

"Gursky, Guil Gursky," Yaakov said, "I think he passed away in the last couple of days. Anyway, you don't publish that many obituaries nowadays.."

Silence followed, then the operator asked, "Are you sure? I have only one Guil Gursky on record, but his obituary dates back to two months and a half ago."

"Oh, um," Yaakov simulated surprise, "Ok, maybe my comrade had drunk a bit too much vodka, you know how it goes with old comrade parties. In any case, could you send me the announcement? There is always a family grieving to visit, and..."

"Sure, Sir," the operator replied, impatiently, "Just give me your email address."

Yaakov hung up. So Guil Gursky had eventually gone too far, with his pride and need to show off his technical abilities. Yaakov reviewed his record, a man who loved knowledge but had lost every restraint taking care to protect his work. If you take the fear of God away from a Jew and leave only the love for knowledge, what is left to differentiate him from an Ancient greek?

Chapter 20

Tarek was sitting in the shadow of his studio, when Ali entered the room, visibly excited.

"You used to announce yourself by knocking on the door," Tarek remarked, surprised, "Did your enthusiasm make you forget your manners? Also, don't leave the door open, otherwise the desert wind of May will cover the room with sand."

Ali felt struck by the comment, he closed the door behind him, and then moved inside the studio to sit on the couch opposite to Tarek's desk, his eyes fixed on his grandfather.

"Um, well, yes, grandpa. It's just that I finished my training as Space Elevator pilot with top marks. In two days I am leaving for my first, real life mission. I am taking a payload of carbon dioxide to the geostationary orbit," Ali spoke incredibly fast, sometimes stumbling on his words, then took what looked like a shirt from his backpack, "Look, check out my uniform!"

Tarek understood the enthusiasm of his nephew, as he was unfolding the white-and-golden outfit of the Space Elevator pilots' guild.

"Very cool," Tarek commented, then chuckled, "You will look much better in it than in your usual navibahai outfit. I think Amina, your girlfriend, would agree with me."

Ali did not seem to like how Tarek had mentioned Amina. The smile from his face disappeared and he turned to the the giant screen on the wall. The images from the Al Ahram news channel, the Egyptian broadcaster, showed the release on bail of Louis Picard, who was shown leaving the Stockholm prison with Helena to his right, a small child in her arms, and a very well-dressed man behind him, most likely a lawyer. Ali watched for a few seconds and then asked Tarek,

"This is dating back to two weeks ago, why do you keep watching it?"

"Exactly, Ali, two weeks ago," Tarek repeated, "Yet in two weeks neither one of them, Louis nor Helena, bothered to drop me a call to share what it was like being out of prison, or even how the little baby is doing. I was not expecting an invite to dinner at their home, just a call to say hello."

"I think they realized that you no longer belong to their team, you can no longer help them spread their evil," Ali said, then he added, as if in reproach, "Even though you never quite told them full out about your conversion. Are you ashamed? Or what?"

Tarek grew irritated.

"Ali, I do not understand why you allow yourself the right to preach to me, something that not even Farlimas ever did all the times I met him since I first traveled to Yamassoukro last year," Tarek continued, "Things need time to mature - you should know. I also do not understand what you intend by evil. We wanted to do good with Telomerax, but it spun out of control."

"Yes, sorry for my reaction, I didn't mean to offend you, grandpa," Ali's voice subsumed, "but it spun out of control big time, and now we have to take people back to the fear of God, thanks to Farlimas, the new Messenger of the Almighty, our faith is spreading, hopefully God won't unleash his wrath upon us....even if we have deserved it big time."

Tarek waited for his nephew to stop, then asked, softly, "Ali, you talked about the wrath of God....it reminds me of what the Honourable Elder Sergei said in the last Supreme Council, he talked about the time when God will punish us for the perversion of mankind...in a very concrete way..."

Ali became suspicious, and was not able to hide it quickly enough, "You shouldn't read too much between the lines...people in the Supreme Council of Farlimas use to talk by using metaphors...and you've become part of it only recently, you don't appreciate all the nuances..."

Tarek decided it was worth exploiting the weakness shown by Ali, so he waited for his first pause and jumped in.

"Ali, I know I am the newest member of the Supreme Council, and I know I skipped all the steps just because of Farlimas' personal decision to admit me...I do not know why he treats me like his favorite, I didn't do anything to gain his respect, it just happened." Tarek looked at Ali and continued,

"Nonetheless, I am not stupid, and I know this has probably raised some jealousy in other members of the Council, and even more in those who were patiently waiting in line for their turn to enter and all of a sudden found themselves overtaken by this new convert, so..." Tarek let a few seconds pass, "...I am just asking for your advice to create less trouble as possible to Farlimas, our beloved leader. I need to know what is going on, otherwise I might accidentally say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Either that, or not say the right thing at the right time."

"The wrath of God..." Ali repeated, "..well, the Honourable Elder Sergei was referring to the disorders that happened following the Great Leak, and, in all the pain that ensued, also helped many people to find the path of truth once again."

"Yes, indeed, and this made me wish to go back to being a nonbeliever.." Tarek said, abruptly, "..I still find it somehow miserable to rejoice in disasters just because they give the Almighty the opportunity to show He is a great handyman." Tarek had his eyes set on Ali, who paled, "However, Elder Sergei ended up his speech stating that the whip would strike again. Was that just a metaphor?"

Ali kept silent for a while, looking down at his hands, then looked back up at Tarek.

"It was just a metaphor. You do not need to be a prophet to figure out that catastrophes and disasters will continue, until the world does not find its right course."

"Alright, Ali, let me remind you of something from my previous life as a nonbeliever," Tarek turned harsh, "I have a lot of evidence that the Navibahais are meddling in things they shouldn't, if they lived by their talk. You were with me when I raised the point to Farlimas. He doesn't endorse these types of things, and he probably doesn't like them either, but he is forced to tolerate them, to some extent..." Tarek was weighing his words, "...I am afraid that there are too many people around him that take advantage of his leadership and charisma to pursue their own political agenda...just like in any church, by the way."

He stopped and looked at Ali, who was intently listening to him.

"So, out of gratitude for meeting Valerio one last time, and all that followed, I made myself a point to make sure that the people around Farlimas don't put him in too much trouble. Based on what I have seen and heard in the past months, I think too many people are starting to play with fire."

Tarek stopped for a pause, and Ali was quick to cut in, surprising him.

"So what, grandpa?" Ali said, "Do you think I am a danger for Farlimas? Or is it only Honourable Elder Sergei? Or Honourable Elder Ishimori of Japan? Or how many others? Maybe we are being infiltrated by one of our enemies, the Americans, Eurorussians and Arabs among all, and you are afraid that some of us are putting Farlimas into trouble? If so, please bring your evidence to the Council. Farlimas will be grateful, I tell you."

Tarek felt cornered, and gave up.

"I have none, Ali," he conceded, "Just bad impressions, so don't count on me to bring attention to the matter. That's also why I..." he looked at Ali again, "..I shared my concerns with you. But I am wrong apparently, maybe because I have seen this play several times in my life."

"This time is different, grandpa," Ali tried to persuade him, "There has never been anyone like Farlimas. You will see. And don't give too much credit, actually, any credit, to Elder Sergei and his theory on the wrath of God."

Ali stood up, put his pilot uniform back into his backpack, and left. Tarek thought he had been too harsh, his nephew wanted just to celebrate an achievement, and he had turned the conversation into an overview of his faith.

"What should I have said, then?" Tarek thought, "That is all fine and dandy, when I see forces around Farlimas, around his closest aides, that start subtly and then unravel everything? Skepticism is my biggest contribution to this new faith, after all."

Tarek stood up from his chair and lit a cigarette. He walked to the door, and saw the figure of Ali, who was quickly walking through the arched patio that linked the studio to the main compound building. Suddenly, he remembered the insistence of Helena about the manipulation of the Christmas surveillance files. He knew he had downloaded it from the system himself. However...he went back to the desk, sat back on his chair, and realized that there was something he had not yet checked. He logged into the security system, and went through the audit trails. Just about the same time Louis left, Ali had repeatedly logged into the system, then his activity had stopped until...the beginning of March. He didn't have to look at the calendar, it was the period when Helena had been there. Tarek selected the surveillance files of those days, then started writing an email.

"Dear Helena," it began...
Chapter 21

Stretched out on the beach, Erika Fryjansdottir felt that the heat of the sand was passing straight through the towel. She stood up and went bathing to refresh, then she laid back in the sun again. The black, volcanic sand of Salina dried her skin in no time and soon she was feeling hot again. It was barely eleven in the morning, but she had to leave, so she packed her stuff in the beach bag and rushed back to the scooter, jumping over the hot sand. Before turning it on, she checked her smartphone. A text from Helena gave her the directions on where to meet for lunch and a follow up meeting at the Picard's villa. At least, she was giving up the seaside day for something.

When Erika arrived, Helena and Louis were waiting for her with a person she had never met before. Helena made the introductions.

"Chief Inspector, this is Yaakov Mayer, from Israel. He is one of our most trusted security consultants. Yaakov, this is the Chief Inspector, Erika Fryjansdottir, of the Swedish Criminal Police. She helped us a lot in our case, from all points of view."

Yaakov shook hands with Erika, then he said, "To be more precise, I live in Jerusalem, wherever that belongs to nowadays," then he shut up, waiting for her reaction.

"If you feel home there, it belongs to you." Erika answered promptly, then she a made a mental note to run an extensive search on the new acquaintance.

Louis smiled and looked at Yaakov, who seemed to appreciate the beginning, then Helena invited the guests to the dining room. The conversation over lunch was somehow light-hearted.

"It's incredible how hot it is here, and it's still only June," Erika noted, "How can you resist through the summer?"

"Oh, during the day you have to live on the boat or in the shadows of the house," Helena replied, "Certainly not on the beach."

"Unfortunately," Louis remarked, "the boat is nowadays severely restricted by the house arrest regime." He then glanced outside the windows, hinting at the guards standing on duty over the terrace.

"Well, they cannot enjoy the shadows," Erika replied with a grin, "and they must be suffering a lot, being Swedes like me."

Yaakov laughed loudly, to make sure everybody understood he was appreciating the spirit of the Chief Inspector. Then, just after the ice-cream was served, he told Louis,

"I think we can turn on the privacy mode now, can't we?"

Louis answered with a wave of his two hands and, in response to the gesture the windows immediately darkened and a small fleet of drones took off from one of the corners of the terrace, surrounding the house, while the Swedish guards and Erika observed the scene as if it was a known ritual.

"Alright," Yaakov continued, looking at Helena, "You know I had come up with the name of Guil Gursky as one of the potential authors of the MND-2 software customization that was supposed to kill Louis, and possibly also Helena. You also know that the guy died three months ago."

Erika nodded, as she learned that Yaakov was the undisclosed source that Louis and Helena had mentioned to her a few weeks before.

"It turns out that the man left a widow behind, whom I was able to track down and interview discreetly," Yaakov continued, "Luckily for us, Guil Gursky never lost the vice of talking too much that cost him his old place in the killer fly program."

"He was also a damn good bioelectronics drone programmer, so he quickly found a new place at Aviabot, one of the many companies that work for the Israeli Defence Forces, where he stayed for more than thirty years, until just after the war, when he started a job as a freelance software developer in Larnaca, Jewish Republic of Cyprus." Yaakov was arriving at the core of his story, "The widow told me that he grew a bit more secretive, at least during what he called his 'contract work time', except that he would occasionally reveal something whenever his work would make it to the news. This is exactly what happened when Dorian was killed."

"That is, he told his spouse that he had contributed to the development of the drone?" Erika asked "Do we have any additional evidence beyond the testimony of the widow?"

Erika started pondering the complications of having a foreign testimony in the enquiry. Would the Israeli authorities agree to have her testify in a Swedish tribunal, with the risk of having their secret service or the military exposed to an international enquiry?

"You do not have to worry about the international intricacies," Yaakov told Erika, as if he had read her mind, "The widow died too, a few days after my interview. A heart attack, apparently, but I already collected all the useful evidence."

"To get back to the story," Yaakov continued, "yes, he told his spouse about all he had done in modifying the MND-2 and gave her a copy of all his work, as he felt a bit uneasy about his future. The widow complied, and after his death, she reported the story to the police. When I showed up to talk to her, she thought I was a policeman for a follow up interview, but this never happened. She was found dead in her bed three days after she spoke to me. Through some reliable channel of mine, I checked if the police had opened an enquiry about the revelations of her husband. Nothing at all."

Yaakov paused, and started a holoprojection about the software coding overseen by Guil.

"This is a quick summary that I was able to put together with the help of the experts Dinesh has connections to," Yaakov commented, "I would say it is almost ready for usage in court."

At the end of the projection, silence fell around the table. It was crystal clear that Louis had had no part in the plot, unfortunately it was even more evident that, for some reason, he and Dorian had mortal enemies deep in the security apparatus of the JRC.

"I guess, even if I am speaking without my lawyer," Louis said, looking at Erika, "that this is enough to drop the conspiracy charges, but it makes the case for witness protection stronger, doesn't it?"

Erika sighed. She didn't like this new twist in the enquiry at all. She had to immediately involve the Foreign ministry and the secret services. They would be all but glad about being drawn in a fight against the Mossad, or parts of it, and God only knew who else.

"I think that's the least we can do," she said plainly, "However, before we move forward, I didn't quite catch the meaning of the last part of the holopresentation, when it talks about the Version 2.0 of the drone, code-named the Whip of God. Is that a reference to the drone that was found on Helena?"

"We told you that Chief Inspector Fryjansdottir is awfully good at her job," Helena winked at Yaakov, smiling, "She never misses a detail!"

Yaakov stopped the holoprojector and continued.

"It is not. The drone used on Helena, which we recovered intact and reverse-engineered thanks to her intuition and promptness, was exactly of the same type used with Louis," Yaakov said, "What Guil Gursky was referring to as the 'Whip of God' is a completely new version, that actually works in the opposite way."

"That is?" it was Louis to ask the question this time, baffled.

"Guil wrote code that allows the drone to get bigger by using carbon-based components abundant in the human body and transforming them into the graphene structures needed for additional drone parts," Yaakov continued, "the team of experts of Dinesh think that Version 2.0, what we know from the last part of his work, was meant to actually do the opposite, take graphene or similar regular carbon structures, and basically dismantle them with a mix of chemical and nanomechanic processes."

"So a big drone would disassemble itself to become smaller?" Helena asked, "What for? Can't they just build a smaller drone from the start?"

"We do not know, Helena," Yaakov replied, "I doubt the drone would shrink itself. I think instead that the new drone is meant to attack carbon structures. Yet I do not understand why, there would not be such a dramatic effect, or at least a much less dramatic one than you can achieve with conventional explosives."

Yaakov stopped, and silence followed, with a sense of discomfort hovering above all the participants.

"Alright," Erika cut short, "my takeaway is that we have not yet managed to identify the first threat, that there is a second one looming on the horizon. One step at a time, though."

"I think this is my copy, which I will take to Stockholm right away," she grabbed the memory sticks that were on the holoprojector, and then looked at Yaakov, "Would you be available to testify in court? Or do I need to file an international warrant to the Israeli authorities?"

"After what I found out, I don't think Israel or the JRC are such safe places for me to be, Inspector," Yaakov answered, "I think I will enjoy some time with my friends here until things get cleared up. Just one thing, don't try to placing me under house arrest. I would not be very cooperative in that case."

"Fair enough," Erika answered, "I will let you know after I have discussed the new developments with the Attorney General back in Sweden."

She stood up and went towards Helena, kissing her on the cheeks, "Thanks for the invite, Helena and Louis. I hope Hannah is doing well."

"She is growing up nicely," Helena answered beaming, while taking Erika to the door, "You didn't hear her today, because she had her afternoon nap as we were having lunch."

In the dining room, Yaakov and Louis waited for the door to close.

"Do you think it was a good idea not to disclose the email we received from Tarek?" Yaakov asked, "The inspector is very smart, she might have been able to help us."

"I think it's still too early," Louis replied, "We'd rather disclose it when we have a common understanding, which we lack today."

"That bastard realized that something went wrong with his plan to kill us, and now he is trying to play a double game," Helena mood changed instantly as she heard the reference to Tarek, "We have to engineer a trap to get him to Europe, so that he can be arrested."

"Well, if he is playing a double game, he is putting quite a lot at stake," Yaakov commented, "For what I could see, all the information he sent about the inner circle of Farlimas is accurate. Add the reference to the Whip of God...can that be a coincidence?"

"Look, Yaakov, there is just one thing that is clear," Louis said, "regardless of Tarek's role, your old employer, the Mossad, or at least sectors of it, is cooperating actively with the dark side of the Navibahais, and for some reason we are their enemy."

"You are right," Yaakov nodded, "What's worse, we have no damn idea about how to get out of here, and our only ally is one of the tiniest and most peaceful nations of Europe, well-known for their absolute lack of strength in the dirty game we are framed in."

"Correct," Helena closed the argument, "whatever we tell the Swedes, that is not bullet-proof evidence ready to be used in court, it is at best a waste of time, and at worst would put us or other people in danger. We have to move forward counting only on our forces, as it was at the beginning."

She fell quiet, sighed, and hugged Louis.
Chapter 22

The Ritual had just finished, and the circles of faithfuls around the altar were starting to dissolve, except for the first one, where the Honourable Elders used to attend the ceremony. They waited for Farlimas to leave the altar, then followed him to a side chapel. As the last one entered the room, the door closed. Farlimas waited for them to sit on the cushions laid on the ground, then he stood up and spoke.

"Today was a particularly painful day for us, as we had to accompany our dear friend, Elder Sergei, to the meeting with the Almighty," he said, then paused and looked around. There were about seventy people in the chapel, all of them staring somewhere on the ground in front of them, with the exception of Tarek, who from time to time looked directly at Farlimas, and Ali, who had not taken his eyes away from the Supreme Leader for a single minute.

"Elder Sergei was tasked with many, important projects for the development of our movement, for the spreading of the New Understanding," Farlimas continued, "Despite all the grief we are now feeling, I want to make sure that there is no gap in the work that was progressing so well, that there be no room for hesitation."

The audience fell silent, this time also Tarek and Ali took their sight away from Farlimas, anticipating the announcement.

"I want you all to know that Honourable Elder Ali will take over the functions of Honourable Elder Sergei," Farlimas said, and the audience responded with that sigh of relief which typically welcomes expected decisions, "and he will be assisted with his new responsibility by Honourable Elder Tarek."

This time, the audience broke out in murmurs, signaling that this was far more of a surprise. All the eyes turned to Tarek, who did nothing to conceal his own surprise.

"I made this decision because Honourable Elder Tarek made considerable progress in the path to awareness in our faith in the last few months," Farlimas added, making sure his tone did not sound in any way like a justification, "and the experience he gained in his previous life will help us steer clear of the dangers in this project."

He then looked at Ali, who was struggling to conceal his own irritation.

"I realized that the task of Honourable Elder Sergei requires more than one head, more than two eyes, more than two ears to be successfully carried out," Farlimas continued, "I trust the two of you can cooperate effectively."

He turned his eyes from Ali to Tarek, who immediately bowed. Ali imitated him immediately.

"Alright," Farlimas said, satisfied, "We can all use some rest now, and enjoy the warmth of the July nights of Ivory Coast."

The chapel door opened, and the congregation dispersed towards the apartment complex. Only Tarek and Ali stayed, until they were alone with Farlimas.

Farlimas looked at Ali again, who was weighing his words to express his disappointment.

"Don't tell me you could do it alone," Farlimas told him, bluntly, "You can't. Honourable Elder Sergei himself couldn't do it, and he was way more experienced than you are. That's why you need the help of your grandfather."

Farlimas then looked at Tarek, who was still prostrated on the ground, and lifted him upright, pulling him from the shoulders.

"Tarek, just a few months ago I would not give you this responsibility," Farlimas said, "But I see you going the same way that Valerio went, and your progress in faith is solid. I trust you can manage the ardor and the enthusiasm of your nephew. I need his energy and drive combined with your wisdom to succeed."

Tarek kissed the hand of Farlimas, then asked

"It's a great honor, my Leader," he stated, then looked straight at Farlimas, as eager as a schoolboy, "however, I do not know anything of what Elder Sergei was doing, beyond what he said during the Council gatherings. How can I catch up?"

Farlimas looked at Ali, who was still looking disgruntled.

"Ali will brief you. He worked with Honourable Elder Sergei in the last months, so he will bring you up to speed," Farlimas then raised his tone a bit, "Now that Elder Sergei has left us, he is the leader, so I trust you can support him in the best possible way."

Reassured, Ali conceded a slight smile, and hugged his grandfather while Farlimas left them.

Ali had not yet released Tarek from his hug, that his grandfather whispered in his ears.

"When did Farlimas exactly give the order to kill Elder Sergei?"

Ali jumped away from Tarek, so he continued to talk louder, completely indifferent to the surprise shown by his nephew.

"Do not bullshit me, Ali, you heard Farlimas, I have to support you, if you play Goldilocks I won't be able to do that and I will resign right away," he was spitting words rather than talking, "It's pretty clear there was a major screw up in your project, and Elder Sergei paid for that. He was so high in our hierarchy that only Farlimas could make the decision to get rid of him, while for some reason you are still alive and now in charge. I need to know if you want me to help out or not."

Tarek paused, as surprise in the face of Ali gave way to a sense of satisfaction.

"I was the one who uncovered the leak and reported it to Farlimas. The rest, was his decision. It was exactly twelve days ago."

Tarek pondered the information. Twelve days was a very short time, to decide the death of an Honourable Elder, organize his demise, and appoint a new organization in place.

"This is still about the Whip of God, isn't it?" Tarek asked, as he activated the switch to close the chapel door, "How did you find the leak?"

"I am not authorized to tell you about the project details, even if you are now charged with its security," Ali replied, "The leak was just apparent. Some of our agents identified an increased activity in the European secret services, they opened files to investigate on a case code-named the 'Whip of God'."

"Alright, that is not a good reason to blame it on Elder Sergei alone," Tarek said, "You and me, and every other member of the Supreme Council had heard the name."

"You don't get the point," Ali said, "The files were opened with very detailed information that was never disclosed in the Council meetings, and was known only to me, Farlimas and Sergei."

"Then why not kill you?" Tarek noted plainly, then, chuckling, "Why not Farlimas?"

"It's very simple," Ali said, "We are not working alone on this project. Elder Sergei had the exclusivity of contact with our partner, which now will move directly to Farlimas, at least for the time being. What was leaked, aside from the code-name, which was our own, was known only to our partner and Elder Sergei."

"Well, the leak could have happened on the partner's side," Tarek proceeded with inesorable logic, "How do you know there was a personal responsibility of Elder Sergei?"

"That's what we thought initially, the information was apparently known to our partner only, so it seemed more like their problem. That's the assessment that Elder Sergei gave about three weeks ago, when our agents raised the alarm for the first time," Ali said, "But then, I saw information that was known only inside here."

"It could be another mole," Tarek observed, "Did you check if anyone in the Supreme Council had access to the same information?"

"It would require time we do not have to figure that out," Ali burst, "A full enquiry would take us months, and we barely have a few weeks. When I told Farlimas the information, twelve days ago, he had to make a quick decision."

"We have a few weeks?" Tarek asked, then smiled, his eyes gleaming, "Success or failure in a few weeks, then I can go on holiday?"

Ali looked at him with some disgust.

"I wonder how Farlimas can think you are moving towards awareness, at times you seem to me the usual, rude and blunt grandfather I always knew," he sighed, "Anyway, yes, in few weeks we will celebrate the greatest victory for our faith or be damned forever. I cannot tell you more. Now I need your help to tighten security around Farlimas and I."

"Absolutely, Ali," Tarek took on his most mood, "Tomorrow I will be in your office to discuss the details."
Chapter 23

Avi Eitan left the plane that had taken him from Cyprus to Jerusalem and boarded the third van of the convoy that would take him to the meeting point.

The motorcade set itself in motion, and took the road to Jericho, which immediately started descending. A huge storm was building on the Eastern bank of the Jordan, with dark clouds topping the mountains, while on the West Bank the hot, afternoon sun of late August was finishing to bake the stones of the Judean desert. Avi had traveled the road many times, yet the steep descent to the Dead Sea always made an impression on him.

At the end of the descent, the convoy continued to the old border of Jordan, which now was the first outpost of the Arabian Union. All had changed, except the no-man's land where certain meetings could take place. The convoy stopped at a refueling station two miles away from the border. Avi and his assistant entered a run-down restaurant next to the gas station while the rest of the escort took place around the compound. There was nobody inside, so they took place to the first, long table to their right, next to a window looking to the Jordanian border.

The waiter, a woman in her forties dressed with a t-shirt and jeans as run-down as the restaurant, came to the table asking for their order. They both got two cokes, and they were immediately distracted by some dust on the horizon. It soon became clear that the small cloud was caused by a similar convoy that stopped at their restaurant, exactly opposite of theirs. The same professional bodyguards came out, and two people walked briskly to enter the restaurant.

As the first man entered the locale, Avi immediately recognized the face of Moussa Nafaa, the all-powerful head of the Arabian Union secret service, who was with a taller man, wearing a keffiah that hid his face. Moussa smiled at Avi and moved to his table, slightly waving his hand and sitting opposite him, but without shaking hands. Avi turned his eyes to the man with the keffiah, who had made the same gestures of Moussa and sat in front of Avi's assistant. The man removed his keffiah, Avi made an effort to hide his surprise. It was Yaakov Mayer.

"I am a free lancer, Avi," Yaakov said, "I am now consulting for the other side, but rest assured that it is not against the interest of my homeland. On the contrary, I believe I am doing you a favor."

"That's why you disappeared from Jerusalem," Avi thought, "I will be more reassured once you are back and we have a private conversation about this." He then looked at Moussa, and said,

"I understand Yaakov has helped you frame the requests you have for the meeting of today, right?"

The eyes of Moussa flashed, like two bright blue stones set in an otherwise dark, handsome Mediterranean face and framed by a two-day long beard. Avi thought that the legend that wanted him as the son of a Russian agent and the former head of the Palestinian secret service maybe had something going on.

"Dear Avi," Moussa said quietly and politely, "Thanks for having agreed to meet us. We have some very sensitive information we would like to discuss with you, before we decide the best course of action."

He then looked to Yaakov, who laid a thick paper file on the table.

"Your friend Yaakov helped us make sense of a lot of things, yet there is something only you can manage. Yaakov will give you the details."

"It's very simple," Yaakov continued, "Avi, somebody in the Mossad, at a very high level, is playing a very risky game with Farlimas. It's not just the tactical cooperation that's been going on in the Strip in the last few years, which annoyed Moussa and his team and which I did not like either, for the reasons I told you last spring. It's much bigger than that, we are talking about organizing an attack on the scale of the Great Leak, or even worse."

"Talking about the Great Leak," Moussa chimed in, "We still do not know the details, but we know that some hackers involved in it were acting on behalf or at least under the inspiration of the Navibahais. Unfortunately, Farlimas does not have a formal secret service, just a loose network of sympathizers, so we cannot pin him down directly. He was one of the great beneficiaries of the turmoil, nonetheless...together with the Remnants of the Strip, of course."

"I thought we should talk future, not past," Avi interrupted, showing his irritation, "If you want to talk about the Great Leak, we do not need this type of meeting."

"Indeed," Yaakov agreed, "It's the next thing that is even more worrisome. It's code-named the Whip of God, which we do not know much about. What we know is scary enough to share with you."

"On the Navibahai side, we have reliable sources that mention this as a top-level project being discussed in Farlimas' inner circle and entrusted only to his most loyal aides, whose name we'll leave out," Yaakov rushed, as time for this type of meetings was always limited, "while on the Israeli side the name is used in connection to technology involving the massive usage of nanodrones."

"I know what you are referring to," Avi said, almost triumphantly, "The Indian drones modified to attack Dorian Picard and the death of Guil Gursky."

Yaakov opened his eyes in disbelief, so Avi continued.

"We also found his death suspicious, and we opened an enquiry," Avi was as convincing as possible, "Gursky was part of a plot involving some extreme fringes of the Remanants of the Tel Aviv strip, which modified and sold this technology to the Navibahais. To our knowledge, Farlimas was and might still be planning to attack some high-profile targets, maybe Louis Picard himself, or the early circle of immortals. But we uncovered the plot, and uraveled the trade."

"So," Avi thought, "If this is all you have to nail me down, it's way too little."

"We are afraid it is not yet over, Avi, but branching out now," Moussa said plainly, "What is comforting us, is that we are not the only one to think this way"

"Indeed, the manipulation of the nanodrones sent high alerts in India as well," Yaakov continued, "so the Indians launched an in-depth investigation around the whole MND-2 program, tracking all the production so far. It turns out that there are exactly forty-two MND-2s gone missing, of which thirty-six disappeared from American and Russian hospitals belonging to or with strong associations to Jewish organizations. In other words, the perfect environment where the _sayanim_ network can yield results. I checked a few cases personally, and discovered that the order to steal the MND-2s came from the usual channels of the Mossad."

Yaakov stopped, looked at Avi and tried to guess from his expression if the information was new to him or not. The chief of the Mossad managed to keep control of his facial expression.

"In case you were wondering," Yaakov added, "I did not share any information about the _sayanim_ with the team of Moussa. He is a professional like us, and understands I cannot tell him everything. In any case it is irrelevant with respect to our goal."

"Just to add my two cents," Moussa jumped in, "We also verified that at least five of those nanodrones ended up at West African institutions linked to the Navibahais. We still have a pretty efficient network down in Africa. But we could not verify how much they had been modified. We know of course that the MND-2 software is very flexible. We saw how it can be twisted in the case of Dorian Picard and....a few others."

A moment of silence followed, then Avi took the file from the table and wrapped up the conclusion.

"Alright, now I have a better understanding of why you asked to meet me." He spoke with the lowest tone he could manage, "You are basically suggesting that large sectors of my organization are actively cooperating with the Farlimasians, far beyond what would be a tactical deal."

"Exactly," Moussa looked at Avi straight in the eyes, "We have been longtime, honest foes, Avi. We do not like you morphing into something we do not quite understand, nor should you. You have to identify the cancer cells and remove them, quickly."

"I don't like it either," Avi stood up, heading for the exit, "You understand I cannot promise much more than taking a good look at the information you've given me."

"We are not your boss, Avi," Moussa said, adding with an evil grin, "We just do not want that Eli, your prime minister, has the least doubt that he cannot trust your organization. He would not be very comfortable knowing that one of the most prestigious institutions of the Jewish State has a reliability issue."

Avi ignored the threat, as he closed the door of his van. He looked at Yaakov and hissed

"Looks like I am not the only one with a reliability and trust issue."

As the motorcade drove back to Jerusalem, Yaakov and Moussa stayed still, as the wind blowing from East was bringing fresh waves of stormy air.

"Do you think he is part of the problem or not?" Moussa asked Yaakov. "He didn't give out anything."

"It does not make such a big difference," Yaakov continued, "If he is, things will accelerate right away. If he is not, it will take just a few extra days before the extensive internal enquiry that Avi needs to set up puts the Farlimas friends on high alert."

"Acceleration means we will have less time to figure out what exactly is going on," Moussa commented, "We learned a lot in the past weeks, yet we still miss key pieces of information, like the possible targets."

"That's true, however acceleration also means more possibility for our enemies to make a mistake," Yaakov repeated the conclusions of countless meetings held in the previous weeks, "so we have to take this risk, don't we?"

"Yes, we do," Moussa concluded, "It's always about placing the right bet."

They left the restaurant, leaving their soft drinks on the table, untouched.
Chapter 24

The bi-weekly meeting of the Supreme Council of the Navibahais was just finishing up. It had been a good meeting, by all measures, thought Ali.

Elder Joachim of Germany had shown the latest data of the spreading of the faith. With three-hundred million converts, the new religion was now in third place, behind Islam and Christianity, which were both losing faithfuls to Farlimas by the day. If the trend continued, it was a matter of months rather than years, for the Navibahai to become the first.

Yet, in his seat, Farlimas did not look happy. Ali knew why, so he dared placing the question openly.

"My beloved Leader, are you worried about the growth of nonbelievers?", Ali asked, "They have indeed moved forward like us, and are now the biggest group, with roughly five-hundred million people defining themselves this way."

Farlimas nodded, while Elder Joachim sat back in his chair, disguising his uneasiness, as Farlimas took the word.

"It's not worth becoming the first religion if too many of our brothers remain blind and deaf to the Truth, to our being and feeling part of a bigger design," Farlimas was visibly touched, as he continued, "we have to double our effort to help the Alimighty achieve His goal, which is clearly to reunite mankind under the torch of the Single Truth."

Tarek looked at Elder Joachim, whose expression clearly showed that he was deeply reflecting on whether or not he had tried his hardest, and, most importantly, if the Almighty and Farlimas had understood it.

"Take for example our brother, Honourable Elder Tarek," Farlimas switched subjects suddenly, "Last week, he made the conscious decision of taking the anti-Telomerax drug, like his friend Valerio had done before him. That's the kind of examples we need to propagate. But time will soon come, when people will realize the fallacy of their hopes in science and technology, in knowledge alone. A fallacy, by the way, which is fully shared by the preceding religions, which are today nothing more than an empty shell of false hopes."

Being called upon, Tarek knew he had to contribute to the discussion, something he always tried to avoid in Council meetings.

"My Leader," he said, after the silence following the remark of Farlimas was getting too long, increasing the sense of embarrassment in the audience, "There is something I do not understand, though. If knowledge is our enemy, why do we invest so heavily in the space missions that Elder Ali is leading? Couldn't we just funnel those resources to the spreading of the faith, that Honourable Elder Joachim is managing too well?"

The relief that appeared on the face of Elder Joachim was in perfect balance to the slight frown on the one of Elder Ali. Having noticed both of them, Farlimas spoke again, showing off the smile he used when he had been expecting this question.

"Honourable Elder Tarek, I said knowledge alone, not knowledge in general," Farlimas stressed the alone, then moved on, "We are for knowledge, as long as its growth helps us to contemplate the Almighty more. That's what the activities of Elder Ali are all about, we have to prepare to launch a new set of probes in the open space in the next few weeks that will greatly increase the awareness of mankind _in the right direction_."

This was new, Tarek thought. It was the first time that Farlimas mentioned the probes, Tarek looked immediately at Ali, who took a second too long to hide his disappointment at the revelation.

"So," Elder Joachim added, "the probes are the Whip of God that Elder Sergei used to work on?"

Tarek had to control every muscle in his body so as to not give away the fact he was relieved Elder Joachim had just asked the question. Ali immediately felt uncomfortable, and looked at Farlimas, who put up the straightest face he could manage and spoke up again.

"Forget the Whip of God," Farlimas said, "the name, which Elder Sergei came up with, was indeed quite inappropriate, and the project has since been repurposed by Honourable Elder Ali, under the privacy given by the new security organization so successfully set up by Honourable Elder Tarek, whom I have to bring again as an example to you all. He is serving the project without even knowing what it is about, a perfect example of faith in the ways of the Almighty!"

Farlimas then looked at the clock, the time allotted for the meeting was over, there was the last point of the agenda that had not been discussed yet.

"We will talk about the organization of the September Equinox festivities during the next Council meeting in two weeks. We will still have one week of time before the Equinox," Farlimas said, surprising the audience, which feared that time was way too short. "If you do the math properly, we will have enough time." Farlimas said, concluding the meeting.

The Council members started to leave the room. After Farlimas exited, Tarek approached Ali.

"Now I understand why you were so happy to bring loads of carbon dioxide and methane back and forth from outer space," Tarek told him, "It is necessary for the bigger mission...I am dead curious to know what type of new awareness it will bring, but I know you cannot tell me, so I won't ask."

"You are starting to pick up on how things work," Ali smiled, "Giving up immortality has made you wiser, you see, grandpa. One thing I will tell you, though. It will be sooner than expected."

"Sooner?" Tarek replied, "What exactly does sooner mean? Will I be able to see it? I would like not to miss the show."

"Well, you took version B of the anti-Telomerax, antidote, like me," Ali answered, "so your aging is now following the normal course, without any acceleration like Valerio's, so yes, you will definitely be able to enjoy the show, and all its consequences. Possibly, you will see the day of our final triumph, when all of mankind will be unified under our faith."
Chapter 25

"Yes, a modified MND-2 might indeed work in outer space," Dinesh said from behind the screen, " though it has never been tested in those conditions, at least by our company. Why are you asking me this?"

Dinesh knew he would get no answer. Yaakov thanked him once again for his time and then ended the call.

"Well, at least now we have a somewhat clear idea of the target...a damn clever choice, I have to say." Helena commented, playing once again the simulation Louis had built over the last two days, so that the apocalypse started unfolding again under their eyes.

On the holoscreen, an orbital elevator module was approaching the final station at geostationary orbit, when, undetected by space radars, a small cloud of drones, each one no bigger than a chocolate candy, jettisoned away from the module. Every drone headed to a different cable elevator, pushed by its small rocket engine it took a maximum of seven minutes to reach the farthest cable. The drone anchored to it and released the modified MND-2 attack module, which immediately started eating at the graphene nanotube structure of the elevator cable. Imagining the rest required an exercise in terror fantasy: the cable break would immediately throw off the weight of the Orbital Elevator into open space, while the rest of the cable would start falling down to Earth, accelerated by gravity and the planet rotation. Crumbling to Earth, the cables would take down with them all the intermediate orbital stations, but they would not burn out in the atmosphere, as their carbon nanotube structure is resistant to heat enough to survive the final part of the trip through the Earth's atmosphere. Every cable would inflict a 22-thousand-mile-long asteroid-shaped scar on the Earth surface, annihilating everything within one-hundred yards of the impact site and sending nuclear-bomb like shockwaves for more than two miles. This would be multiplied at least forty times, one for every cable that is now in service.

"The ugliest part of all this, according to the simulation, is that if you properly synchronize the breaking sequence you can actually quite precisely choose your targets on the surface.." explained Louis.

"..and yet pretend it all happened by accident, due only to the random breaking of the first cable," Yaakov finished. "Then, it will be very easy to blame it on the deviant trends of this brave new world, and reap all the advantages, if the Whip of God got rid of all your competitors, by erasing, for instance, Rome and Makkah."

"But security measures have increased after we shared this with secret services, right?" Helena asked, staying realistic, "Elevator payloads and modules are being scrutinized more closely, right?"

"Of course, Helena, of course," Yaakov replied, "Yet the devices are relatively easy to conceal. It all fits into a backpack that you can throw into space via the standard outer space communication bay of the elevator module. Something that from time to time is being used when, for example, there are carbon dioxide leaks from the payload."

"Also, are we sure this is not something to distract us?" Helena fought with all her might against the possibility of this happening, "After all, we are getting this information from Tarek. Can we trust him? True, he sent us some good information over the last few months. Yet, he is fully involved with Farlimas. He might still play double game. What if, while we focus on this, they strike elsewhere."

"Well, that could be," Yaakov conceded, "yet, to achieve the same level of devastation, they would need to detonate at least twenty nuclear bombs, which for sure they do not have. Most importantly, nuclear bombs can be blamed on someone, like the Great Leak at the beginning of the year."

"Shit," Louis stated, summing up the feelings of the team, "When is this likely going to take place? And what can we do to prevent it, once we know it has started?"

"We have some ideas," Yaakov said, confidently. "When, quite soon. How to prevent it, I think we have to focus on the missions run by the Navibahai-controlled organizations, which are more often than not manned by Ali Tantawy, Tarek's nephew. He has eleven departure slots planned in this last quarter, the first already took place three days ago, on October 7th, then exactly one every week. It's carbon dioxide and methane payloads all the time, except for next trip of October 14th."

"What is he scheduled to carry on that trip?"

"Scientific probes, incidentally," Yaakov said, "They will be released in geostationary orbit. It's part of the Great Contemplation initiative that Farlimas has recently launched."

"The one meant against the Conquest of Saturn sponsored by Irina Kanchelskaya?" Helena asked.

"Exactly," Louis answered at the place of Yaakov, "As much as Irina's proposal has a clear goal to create political consensus to favor her election to the Euro-Russian presidency next year, it is nonetheless a fact that her initiative calls for people to change step, to adapt and grow to a new, much bigger world, no longer bound by the limits of an average 80-or-so-years' life or the dimensions of our planet," Louis continued, "which is exactly what Farlimas has been ranting against in those past twenty years."

"Completely destroying one of the four orbital elevators, plus all the associated damage and emotional shockwave, would cripple Irina's initiative forever," Helena continued, "Not to mention increase the Navibahai clout and influence beyond imagination...I doubt we will have a place in that world. Do you think they will strike on that day, Yaakov?"

"Before I answer that, there is one last thing we know," Yaakov replied, "during the last trip that Ali took three days ago, something has been detected by the micro-meteoric sensors of the Elevator, the system that makes sure the cables do not get broken by the collision with any objects drifting in open space. The data is publicly available on the Elevator website, so I had a close look at what happened during Ali's trip."

"What could it be?" Louis asked, "Something we can use as evidence?"

"Not really, it was a small event, classified by the system as a micro-meteoroid occurence, that is detected for the first time around the module a few minutes before it reaches the final station, and is then tracked moving toward the next cable."

"So, you think they were rehearsing the attack?" Helena asked, jumping to a conclusion.

"Exactly," Yaakov said, "Remember what Dinesh said at the beginning? No one had ever tested the MND-2 in outer space, so they have to make sure it works. Second, they have to set the drone speeds and size in a way that does not trigger the meteoric surveillance system like last week. The event triggered a cable inspection."

"And what was the outcome of the inspection?" Louis asked.

"Absolutely nothing," Helena replied for Yaakov, "the drone was probabaly programmed to self-distruct, and the meteoric surveillance must have concluded that the debris had missed the cables."

"Exactly," Yaakov said, "but the gun is loaded, and it won't be long before it shoots."

"Do you think they will attack during the probe launch, ten days from now?" Louis asked, "Looks like all the tests have been passed."

"It's very likely," Yaakov replied. "The probe launches from the outer orbit would provide an ideal shield to the drone activation. However, we have to be one hundred percent sure that this will be the case. The only way to stop them will be to leak the information so that the elevator module is searched by the Orbital Elevator security, missing the launch window and canceling the mission. Now, imagine if the search reveals nothing. Just to limit the consequences for us, our credibility would be shattered, along with those who have supported us so far."

"All this," Helena summed up, sighing, "depends on a single signal from Tarek."

"Yes." Yaakov answered, fixing his eyes on the table and staring.
Chapter 26

Ali, Farlimas and Tarek found themselves in the same room on the rooftop of the Meditation building in which Tarek had met Farlimas, almost one year before.

"The only difference," Tarek thought, "is that today I am not the promising new guest to convert. Today I am the traitor."

Ali and Farlimas were sitting in front of him, his nephew was at once exhausted and triumphant for having passed the extensive security search that had blocked the mission, while Farlimas' expression was one of absolute indifference.

"You played your game well, grandpa," Ali began, "You also accepted to come here before my mission started, and did not stay in your safe haven in Egypt."

"You have to do all you can to ensure success," Tarek commented, "A refusal could have looked suspicious."

"Did you have a plan to leave, in case we had decided to move ahead and you had succeeded in blocking us?" Ali continued, without losing temper.

"Does that make any difference now?" Tarek answered back, "I can tell you, I can't count on anyone else around here. Don't waste time to look for new connections."

"This we know," Farlimas said, plainly. "You were the only one besides Ali to whom we communicated the deadline. It was a good idea, to simulate the action."

He then laid his back against the wall, looked up at the ceiling, and continued talking.

"Thanks to the Almighty, I listened to you, Ali," Farlimas said, "at times I reproached you for your lack of faith in your grandfather, but you were right to mistrust him, and I was wrong."

"The mistrust was mutual," Tarek jumped in, before Ali could comment, "on my side, it started when, shortly after I joined the Council, I found out my nephew was trying to kill my old friends."

Farlimas turned to Ali, yet it was not clear if he was looking for an explanation or for help. Tarek decided that, as all was lost, at least he would sow as much doubt and mistrust he could between the two.

"You know what?" Tarek continued, preventing Ali from speaking, "I might even have agreed to such a plan, if it had come from you, Farlimas, with the right...how can I put it...the right perspective. I just could not accept to find in my new home the same botched mistrust and betrayals I have known for so long in my life."

"So that's when you lost your faith, Tarek?" Farlimas asked, genuinely interested in the answer, "It's the betrayal and falseness among us that led you to desert us?"

Tarek looked at Ali, who was growing uncomfortable and tried to talk, but Farlimas raised his left hand and blocked his words before they could reach his tongue.

"That was the trigger," Tarek continued, paying attention to make sure he did not address Farlimas again with the 'my leader' title he had been accustomed to in the last several months, "the trigger that opened my eyes on bigger issues than some clumsy plot attempt from a rotten apple, that you can always deal with by disposing of."

"My leader, I know it was your will," Ali exploded, fearing where the discussion could head, "You spoke several times about the need to eradicate the immortal craze from the very beginning.."

So there had not been an explicit order from Farlimas, Tarek thought, which was not so valuable to know. Farlimas rage was now visible, as he shut up Ali once again.

"I did not ask you to explain anything, Ali, let Tarek finish," he hissed, "There are several ways to end the craze, think of Valerio, for example."

As if bitten, Ali jumped back on his cushion.

"Thanks for bringing Valerio up, Farlimas," Tarek said, "I thought a lot about his last days, about all that touched me one year ago. It was absolutely apparent that he had found his way, and yet, when I opened my eyes after the discovery of my own conspiracy, I also realized that you had done a worse job than Ali."

Farlimas kept looking at Tarek, his glance becoming more curious and baffled.

"You hijacked Valerio's, and God only knows how many other people's goodwill, to put them at the service of your own will of power," Tarek continued, "you keep recalling people to the Almighty, because you like the tribute that the crowds give you, deliberately mistaking the messenger with the message. As you are acting on His behalf, you feel you have a blank check of what you can allow yourself, like all religious war leaders we have seen so far. I wish Valerio were here to see you right now, I knew him well enough to know he would support me."

"This is blasphemy, Tarek," Ali whispered from the corner in which he had retreated, "Farlimas always made the difference clear between him, the Messenger, and the Almighty."

"Blasphemy!" Tarek burst into laughter, "Thanks for making my last moments funny, my nephew! Every time the inconvenient truth emerges, you set off the sirens of blasphemy!"

"Look, I am no theologian," Tarek continued, "all I can tell you, is that you and your beloved leader are just like me \- like my friends Louis, and Helena, and Valerio, and all the others. We embarked on this journey because we thought we had found a way to defeat death, so yes, I admit I envy the gods and I want to be a bit more like them. You are more treacherous. You say you want to be humble, but you follow the same desire for power and eternity like we do. At least, I am honest. You know what? We were willing to share our finding with the rest of mankind, and it went horribly wrong. Here, I see you want to keep those outside the Council, and even a good part of the Council itself, in the ranks of the worshipping crowd, while you take care of the dirty workings of power behind it all. Obviously, because you want to sacrifice yourself, not because you like it."

Farlimas expression did not change, he just hinted to Ali, who seemed more reinvigorated after hearing Tarek's speech. The entry door opened, framing two guards who had been clearly waiting a while for this moment.

Tarek looked at them shortly, and then turned back to Farlimas.

"One last thing, Mr. Farlimas," Tarek said, emphasizing the mister, "Unlike Valerio, I had the opportunity to fully appreciate your...true intentions. Unlike Valerio, I won't let you make a show of my end, and finally,.." Tarek couldn't help but speak fast, feeling he risked running out of time to deliver his message, "..just like him, I have somehow been given the privilege of knowing the time of my freedom. Goodbye, Mr. Farlimas."

Tarek clenched his jaws tightly, then suddenly fell lifeless to the ground. The guards rushed over to him, trying to revive him, to no prevail. He was dead.

"Cyanide," the elder one eventually commented after a few minutes of examining the body, "he probably had a pill placed between his teeth, that he chewed to release the poison."

Farlimas looked at Ali, who was completely dumbfounded, and muttered some unintelligible words before coming up with the explanation he felt obliged to share.

"He used to serve in the Egyptian Air Force. When I was a boy, he told me several times that they used to go to war with the cyanide pills, to be used in case they fell prisoners to the Israelis. He must have kept some, there is no other possibility. Such an old-fashioned way to die."
Chapter 27

Erika Fryjansdottir appeared on the holoprojector in the middle of the studio of Louis Picard in Salina, Sicily. Helena started the conversation by congratulating her in Swedish for her recent promotion to Head of the Police. She smiled politely, and asked Helena where had managed to learn Swedish so well.

"Oh, well," Helena said, "you know, Louis and I had quite a long stay up there last spring, and superintelligence helps you a lot. But now we'd better switch to English, since Yaakov and Louis have not worked on learning the language too much."

Yaakov jumped in, summing up the situation.

"Chief Inspector," he said, using the old title of Erika, "we believe that Tarek Tantawy committed suicide following the failed attempt to stop the attack last October 14th. He used to send a daily signal, which has been missing for three days, and all we have is the message he planned to give in the meeting with Farlimas after the mission failure, accusing him of the attacks on Dorian and Helena."

"The fact that Tarek didn't send a signal is at most a weak clue that his allegations are right," Erika commented, "You know I cannot take any action against Farlimas just based off this."

"Indeed, Erika, indeed," Yaakov felt it was going to be difficult, "let me complete the puzzle. Tomorrow at dawn, that is, nine hours from now, Ali Tantawy is scheduled to start another planned elevator mission. It is the standard carbon dioxide payload delivery. However, if our thinking is correct, and keep in mind that Tarek has been missing for three days, it is very likely that Ali will carry out the attack tomorrow."

"Again, what would you like me to do?" Erika asked, "If I raise an alarm, I will be asked to show the evidence. You know your credibility has completely collapsed last week, when you presented the evidence via Moussa Nafaa."

"Chief Inspector," Yaakov said in a serious tone, then, after being hit by Helena's elbow, he immediately corrected himself, "Police Chief, I meant, we need you to lend us a Swedish government plane."

"What?" Erika asked again in disbelief. "A plane?"

"Yes, we would like to get to the Equatorial Guinea Elevator before the mission starts and persuade mission control to carry out another security check, this time on behalf of the Swedish government," Helena said, "you know that private and commercial jets are not allowed in the no-fly zone around the elevator, so we need a plane belonging to some agency of one of the Euro-Russian Federation countries. You are our only hope."

"I do not understand why you do not share your evidence electronically with us and the Elevator security, if you have new elements," Erika asked, "Why do you need to be on site tomorrow?"

"We have no new evidence Erika," Yaakov puffed, "but we might have some tomorrow, and it would be far better to be on site rather than set up holocalls that might not be answered, on not answered on time. It's all about being ready and flexible."

The face of Erika moved out of the holocall screen, and long minutes of silence followed. The Police Chief re-entered the cone of light of the holocall camera with a frown in her eyes.

"Who is supposed to take part to the flight?" she asked.

"It would be just the three of us," Louis replied, "Ideally, the crew should wait for us here in Sicily, as we get there. You heard that Helena can speak perfect Swedish, in case, and Yaakov can fly the plane and I am assisting with the analysis of..."

"That's out of question for you to go, Dr. Picard," the Police Chief cut Louis short in the middle of his sentence, "I am already going beyond the lines of what I can legitimately do, I cannot also let you escape your house arrest regime, even momentaritly. The plane crew will stay with you in Salina, just to reinforce surveillance."

All three in the room looked at each other and then Helena nodded to the hologram.

"We accept your conditions, Chief, can you send the convertiplane now?" Yaakov said impatiently, "We have a little more than eight hours to get there, and it will take almost four hours to fly from Stockholm to Sicily."

"I will do my best, Yaakov, I just gave the departure order to the Police plane," Erika replied, "Hopefully, you will get to the Elevator station shortly after Ali has started his trip to the geostationary orbit station. This will give you around twelve hours to get what you need done....if you get something to share in the meantime. I would like to have a look at it as well, before you do anything on my behalf."

"It's a deal, Chief. Take care, we'll stay in touch," Helena answered, and ended the call, then looked at Yaakov, "Are you sure we are going to get something by then?"

"I hope so," Yaakov whispered.

Three thousand miles away, a few minutes before the dawn of October 21st, Ali Tantawy entered the security scanners prior to boarding the Elevator module he was supposed to pilot. The officer at the scanning machine asked why he was bringing so many memory pods into his backpack, and Ali replied that his son had asked him to take a full high-definition video of the trip, so that was the bare minimum required by the camera. The officer smiled and allowed Ali into the module, moving to the next passenger. The module lifted off perfectly on time, at 6:35 AM, while Yaakov and Helena were still impatiently waiting for the Swedish plane to land in Catania, Sicily. One of the engines had suffered a malfunction that took more than four hours to repair, eating into the margin they had.

"By the time we get there," Helena calculated, "the module will be beyond low-orbit station and accelerating to geostationary speed."

"We still have time," Yaakov replied, looking at his smartwatch, "We have another six hours before the module reaches the intermediate orbit station, where it can still be blocked and inspected."

"What if it goes beyond that?" Helena asked, "Can that still be stopped?"

"In theory, yes," Yaakov answered, as he checked once again the route to be inserted in the plane navigation system, "but we do not yet know if this is the attack. My contact didn't call yet."

"Your contact..." Helena repeated, "..you never disclosed those details, not even to us. A friend of your old employer, I guess."

"It might be, or not," Yaakov replied, "You know they are in a difficult situation now."

"How do you know he, or she, won't deceive us?" Helena asked, " _You_ came up with the evidence Farlimas had moles inside, after all."

"Let's say I showed a pretty convincing scenario to a very influential guy, who might tilt things in the right direction," Yaakov was choosing every word, "a scenario no one in JRC would tolerate.."

In the Elevator module, Ali put the vehicle on autopilot a few minutes after having left the low orbit station, then stood up from his seat, took his backpack and moved to the back of the cabin. "I am going to do a routine cargo bay inspection tour," he told his two passengers; an Indian engineer and an Australian biochemist, "just to make sure we have no carbon dioxide leaks from the containers". He entered the cargo area and moved close to the outdoor emergency port, then checked that the external door was sealed before he opened the inner door and distributed on the floor of the compartment half of the memory modules inside his backpack, making sure they were not visible from the cargo bay camera. He quickly closed the door, and loaded the remaining modules in the camera he had mounted on the rear window. Finally, he reached the exhaust valve of one of the carbon dioxide tanks and set it to the minimum open position. According to his calculations, the carbon dioxide alarm would go off in about eight hours, just one hour before reaching geostationary orbit. When he returned to the cockpit, the Australian asked how the video recording was proceeding. "It's just fine," Ali replied, "Our planet today is more beautiful than usual."

At about the same time, the plane with Helena and Yaakov reached the limits of the no-fly zone and the Elevator Air Traffic Control radioed them almost immediately. Helena replied, simulating to speak English with a Swedish accent and turning on all the plane electronic identification beacons. They were quickly cleared to proceed once they were identified to approach the landing strip one hundred miles away.

"On the runway, you did not tell me what you think would persuade some bad guys to change their minds," Helena never gave up on her curiosity, "or not, considering nobody has called us, so far."

"In almost all the cable breakdown scenarios that we simulated," Yaakov answered, smoothly, "one or the other cable falls across Israel, completely erasing the strip between Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, and Amman. You might not have noticed this, but I did. It is my home, after all."

Helena was about to say something, when the satellite phone of Yaakov rang. He answered in Hebrew, then he turned to her and ordered.

"Quick, activate the data bridge to Louis and Erika. We are going to receive information to use with the Elevator security, but let's have a look at it first". On the screen of the cockpit, the drawings and trajectory diagrams of the forty attack drones showed up, each one disguised in a memory pod. Yaakov and Helena had barely finished to go through the projection when a text message from the Police Chief appeared on the communication console. It simply read, "You are allowed to proceed, won't call you to waste your time. Good luck."

Helena and Yaakov looked at each other and smiled, they both appreciated the promptness of Erika. They immediately called Elevator Air Traffic Control.

"ATC, this is Swedish Police One," Helena screamed in the microphone, "We request to talk urgently with the head of security. It's an emergency."

Twelve thousand miles above them, the module was approaching Intermediate Orbit station. Ali calculated that in one hour they would pass the last control station, past the point of no return. He took his smartphone and opened what seemed to be an unnecessary game, and went to the settings tab. He activated the drones to turn on the engines and follow the programmed trajectories once ejected in outer space. He then played for a few minutes, closed his videogame, and faked some irritation with the results. The Indian passenger noticed it and asked what game he was playing. "It's a replica of a vintage arcade game called 'Space Invaders'," he said nonchalantly, "the very last alien just overtook my last gun and I lost."

After fifteen unnerving minutes, the voice of the head of Elevator security squeaked through the radio of the plane.

"Swedish Police One, this is Iba Diouf, security head on duty, what's the problem?" he asked without masking his irritation.

"This is Captain Helena Rasmussen, on behalf of the Swedish police," Helena answered calmly but confidently, "We have just sent you data that points to a grave security risk linked to the module running on cable no.23, now close to approaching Intermediate Orbit Station. We ask you to stop the module for inspection at Intermediate Orbit Station."

"Captain Rasmussen," Iba Diouf snapped back immediately, "It would be the second time in two weeks that we stop a mission out of emergency grounds. Why should we do it? The first time it was a big fiasco and source of embarrassment."

Yaakov pointed out data on the screen that Louis, who was listening to the conversation, was sending in real time. It was the social media page of Iba Diouf, showing him out of the Temple in Yamassoukro, wearing an impeccable Navibahai outfit.

"Shit," Helena thought, and tried to make up for her cold mindedness. She moved to a softer tone of voice.

"Head Diouf," she said, "the module is being piloted by Ali Tantawy. The file we sent you about twenty minutes ago shows that he has been given microdrones of the same type used in killing our Welfare Minister back in February, and that it is very likely that he has the same drones with him on board, for potentially dangerous purposes. We kindly beg you to stop the module for a search at intermediate orbit."

Helena then looked at Yaakov, who asked to talk.

"In the meantime," he said, "we also ask authorization to land, in fifteen minutes we can show you more evidence."

Some silence followed, then the ATC controller jumped in. "Swedish Police One, you are not authorized to land for 45 minutes, due to air traffic and runway congestion. We see you have enough fuel to enter the holding pattern to the west of the Elevator".

Yaakov and Helena looked at each other. In forty-five minutes, Ali would be past Intermediate Orbit Station and any possibility of being stopped. Beside that, what congestion could there be in an airport that sent out no more than twenty flights a day? In any case, they had no choice.

"Alright, we enter holding pattern now," Helena said, as Yaakov set the data in the navigation computer, "Chief Diouf, I ask you again to stop Ali Tantawy now at Intermediate Orbit station."

"Negative, Captain Rasmussen," Iba answered, upset. "We will re-evaluate your evidence and come back with an answer by tomorrow. In any case, you can arrest him when he is back at ground station, in two days from now, if your evidence is strong enough."

"At least," Yaakov said, "It won't look like absolute fatality."

"Are you happy about that, Yaakov?" Helena's eyes stared him down, "Half of the world perished, but look at the half empty glass!"

The module left Intermediate Orbit Station. Ali read a text on his smartphone, saying 'Minor nuisances deflected, clear road ahead' and exulted in silence. There was nothing left between himself and success. Another three hours and he would become the weapon that the Almighty had chosen to take people back to the right path. Nobody would ever know it, beyond Farlimas and very few others, but Ali was not looking for glory or fame. He was looking for recognition from God.

"Swedish Police One, you can leave the holding pattern and land at your convenience," the voice of the ATC controller sounded neutral through the headphones of Yaakov and Helena.

"Roger, ATC, we begin the descent in two minutes," Helena replied, then switched the radio off and turned to Yaakov, "Are you sure you do not have anything else to send out?"

Yaakov looked at her and reflected her question.

"I sent out all the data I had to. Are _you_ sure you do not want to call Louis? The text I got five minutes ago is enough?"

"It's enough, Yaakov," Helena sighed, "It took me ten minutes to think about it. I could not handle a conversation now. Let's go."

Yaakov activated the route he had calculated in the past ten minutes on the navigation system and switched autopilot on. The plane suddenly accelerated, and banked westwards to the left. It was less than ten seconds before the ATC voice broke through the cockpit headphones.

"Swedish Police One, you are leaving the descent pattern and heading toward the cable area. Please correct your route immediately."

As the ATC voice turned more frantic, Yaakov reduced the volume and started counting.

"Impact in thirty seconds, cable no.23 three miles away" he commented coldly.

"Are you sure the anti-aircraft defenses won't take us down before?" Helena asked worriedly, then again "And we will be able to tear the cable?"

"I told you, Helena, we are into the inner perimeter classified as friendly object, air defenses need at least fifty seconds to reclassify us as a threat and target us," Yaakov smiled, wishing he could have more time to spend working with such a brilliant professional. "The coordinates I set guarantee that we will hit the cable with the starboard engine. Its carbon blades are hard enough to break it. The rest of the plane would just be sliced like salami. Fifteen seconds to go, 1.5 miles to destination."

The ATC controller's voice grew louder, this type replaced by the robotic alert system. "Swedish Police One, please change route now or you will become a target of the defense system."

"Ten seconds to impact, last mile to go," Yaakov said, then extended his hand to Helena, "Thank you, Helena, I would have wished a different end, but this one is not too bad either. Five seconds." Helena squeezed Yaakov's hand. "It's a honor for me as well, Yaakov."

Ali was about to look again at his timer, when the module alarm lights went off. Instinctively, Ali looked at the carbon dioxide leak detector panels, but they were all green. He then realized that there were still two hours before the leak had to be detected. He was still lost in his thoughts, when the Australian drew his attention to the traction control screen. The alarm read 'Cable continuity loss', and it was the first time that Ali saw it. He rushed with his memory to the simulator sessions he had gone through, found nothing, as the Australian was spreading his fear to the Indian, he resolved to consult the artificial-intelligence handbook. The alarm, he learned, could arise due to anomalies in the current propagations or be the result of an outright break, in which case the worst for the module was yet to come. Released from its Earth anchor, and pulled by the huge centrifugal force of the counterweight at geostationary orbit, the cable would start accelerating below the module, increasing the attrition along its course. Low and intermediate orbit station would soon realize it, and cut it off to avoid damage to their structures. Ali had not yet gone through the holomanual, that the temperature sensors on the cable guides turned up to red, signaling also that the module was deviating from the course to geostationary orbit. Before Ali could articulate an explanation, the Indian came up with the perfect description.

"We are on a mad horse in the high atmosphere...we are doomed."

Doomed....the word brought Ali back to his true mission, so he rushed to his smartphone, and, to the bewilderment of the other two crew members, he launched 'Space Invaders'. He tried to rush to the settings page to immediately activate the drone release in outer space, but the heat of the cable eventually melted a section of the module shield and caused an oxygen tank to explode. The module spun off course and completely broke in two, releasing all its human and robotic content into the silence of outer space.
Chapter 28

The small group of invitees was already gathered in front of the stonewall of the alcove for more than ten minutes, when Eliezer Mahlab, prime minister of both the JRC and of the Contended Terrritory of Israel, appeared from around the last corner of the maze, accompanied by a person nobody in the group could identify.

Eliezer went to the podium, in front of the four rows of chairs set out for the audience. As the space between the walls left no room for loudspeakers, he was forced to project his voice.

"My dear guests, welcome to Gilot. This small town north of Tel Aviv has been hosting the memorial to our fallen in the intelligence activities for nearly a century," he said, then looked at the first row, where Louis Picard was pushing the stroller back and forth as Hannah, his toddler, napped.

"Today, we are commemorating an ordinary and an extraordinary memorial service at the same time. An ordinary one, because we are writing once more on these walls, the name of those who sacrified their lives in the eternal war of intelligence to protect the Jewish State from threats. And, at the same time, an extraordinary one, because for the very first time we will write in the stone the names of two _goyim_ , two gentiles, whose sacrifice was crucial for the mission to have succeeded, and not only the Jewish State. Without them, the whole world would be on the brink of collapse once again."

Eli Mahlab, as he was nicknamed, stopped, and motioned for the serviceman on his right to lift the drape and uncover the names of Yaakov, Helena and Tarek on the stonewall. A small applause came from the audience, then the prime minister continued.

"Our thoughts go also to the fifty-five thousand individuals who perished in the fall of the cable. A staggering number, if we consider that most of the structure fell into open sea, and a testament of what could have happened if the terrorists had managed to succeed in their evil conspiracy."

Eliezer paused, making sure the audience appreciated the value of the sacrifice. He then concluded.

"It is thanks to Yaakov, Helena and Tarek that we can enjoy this sunny and unusually warm, late February day. We will now finish by observing three minutes of silence for our friends, allowing each one of us to pray in his or her own preferred way."

Three shots from a rifle marked the end of the prayer period, and the people started standing up and leaving. The second wife and the five sons of Tarek were the first to leave, immediately followed by the family of Aurora Rodrigo Fatima. Louis stayed silent in his seat, rocking Hannah in his arms now, while three rows behind him Erika, Camilla Picard and her sons along with the Swedish ambassador were observing the scene.

Eli Mahlab stepped down from the podium and was joined again by the man he had come with, as they went to shake hands with Louis.

"Dr. Picard, let me introduce you to Mr. Avi Eitan. He has recently been named director of the Gilot site. I appointed him just last month. You can refer to him if you find anything dissatisfying in the memorial. Obviously, you can refer to me if you have a problem with him."

Louis ignored Avi, and asked Eli,

"You mean, that Avi Eitan?" he did not bother hiding his incredulity, "The one Yaakov was talking to?"

"Yes, Louis, that Avi," Eli answered indifferently, "I made the decision that going forward, this was the best place for him to be, taking care every day of the place where Yaakov, Helena and Tarek will be remembered."

He turned to Avi, who did not look up from the ground once.

"There have been way too many victims," Eli continued, turning back to Louis, "At some point in time, you have to start forgiving mistakes, if the atonement is sincere."

Erika was watching and listening from a distance, when a voice whispered behind her.

"Eli Mahlab is a real devil," Erika slowly turned to meet the stare of two deep blue eyes, standing out from a dark Middle Eastern face. "He has demoted Avi from second-only-to-God head of Mossad, to museum-keeper. And what's worse is he makes sure everybody knows it, at the damn service where we are celebrating the last victims of Avi's last botched plots. He really deserves having married former actress Scarlett Johansson!" laughed Moussa.

"You must be Moussa," Erika replied, unphased, "Yaakov talked to me quite a lot about your last mission in Jericho."

"Yaakov talked to you? About me?" Moussa kept his self-confidence, flashing a quick smile, while Erika kept her seriousness.

"You do not have to worry about your secrets," Erika moved her eyes to Camilla and her kids, who were walking toward Louis. "The case of the death of Dorian Picard is closed. We are waiting for the West African Union to arrest and hand over Farlimas to us. It seems it won't be the case though, as the man still has huge influence despite the foiling and uncovering of his evil plots."

"You know, I am actually changing jobs," Moussa whispered, "the Elevator conspiracy, as it is called now, allowed the Arabian Union and the JRC to start a new conversation on new ground. I will try to help out since I knew Tarek well - I am sure he would approve. I hope you understand why I can't elaborate more on my future role."

"I see," Erika said, leaving her row and moving towards Louis, followed by the Swedish ambassador. "Well let me wish you good luck once more." Moussa made a slight gesture of salute and turned to the corner where the Tantawys had gathered.

When Erika joined Louis, he was speaking to Camilla, who was in the middle of inviting him to visit her family in Sweden.

"Don't you think it would be better for you to join me for a while in Sicily instead?" Louis objected, "It's too cold up there right now." He then stopped, thinking back at the last walk he had in the open the year before, in the gardens of the Drottningholm Palace. He was about to say something, then looked at Erika and addressed her in the most formal way he could manage.

"Police Chief," he said, "Would you please tell my daughter-in-law that I am no longer subject to the regime of house arrest and my decision to stay on my island is now a conscious one?"

Right in the middle of his sentence, Hannah woke up and started crying, showing she wanted to leave the stroller to stumble around.

"Lastly," Louis continued, holding the toddler with his right hand as Hannah tried to take some steps, "this Navibahai affair is far from over. Farlimas is entrenched in his African enclave, surrounded by tens of thousands of strong believers. He lost hundreds of thousands after the failed attacks, but he still wields a considerable amount of power."

"Actually, this might no longer be a problem," the Swedish ambassador said, entering the conversation, "I was waiting for the service to end to tell you that the Euro-Russian Union has obtained permission from the World Federation to launch an operation in Yamassoukro in order to capture Farlimas. They would be using for the first time lethal automatic robots, or LARs, on a large scale."

Louis looked at the ambassador with a surprised expression, who interpreted the look on his face as curiosity to get more details.

"This way, the number of victims will be low, and mainly lost on to the side of the bad guys," the ambassador said, genuinely excited, "The software of the LARs has been programmed in such a way that..."

"I think that's quite enough, Mr. Ambassador," Erika said, cutting him short. "I think Louis needs more time and peace with his loved ones now. _Au revoir_ , Dr. Picard."

She pulled the ambassador away with her left arm and headed to the exit of the stonewall section. She had barely walked three steps, when Louis called her.

"Police Chief Erika Fryjansdottir," he said, keeping a low tone. Erika turned her head toward Louis, Hannah and Camilla. Louis raised his left arm, as he still held Hannah with the right one.

" _Merci_ , Police Chief."

The Police Chief Erika Fryjansdottir smiled, waved back, and then continued walking to the exit, obediently followed by the Swedish ambassador.
Chapter 29

As Louis finished recalling the loss of Helena, his eyes turned to the terrace, where Hannah was sketching the scene of the interview on a canvas.

"Was it difficult for you and Hannah to cope with the loss of Helena, Dr. Picard?"

"I think it was much more difficult for her than for me. She had to go through all these years with a series of nannies \- all very nice and professional, but not 'mom'. As for me, it took me more than seven years to be willing to start a new relationship, and I have not yet found the right partner. Luckily, the local community here in Salina took good care of us, so she grew up with lots of aunts and grandparents, and I limited my trips only to the strictly necessary, bringing her with me whenever possible. Before you ask, I won't comment about my current emotional stability. This is for your colleagues of the gossip media to find out, if they can manage."

"Absolutely, no questions about that, Dr. Picard. We are a serious newspaper, or at least we pretend to be. Let me ask you instead a rather trivial question; in retrospect, what would you have done differently?"

"If you look back, a lot of problems - if not all - arose out of secrecy. When we were detected for the first time, people didn't quite grasp what we were after, and this triggered several reactions that were based off partial and often misled information on the situation and the goals of the would-be enemies. So, to cut it short, I think I should have published the full truth as soon as I got Telomerax up and running, at the beginning of the Eighties of the last century."

"Yet your fears of social upheaval were not misplaced at all, if we look at what happened when things went public. What makes you think things would have gone better?"

"How could things have gone worse than a full scale world war and another one avoided at the eleventh hour?" Dr. Picard snapped back immediately. "In any case, the reality is that we keep inventing things every hour that to a big or small extent change the way we interact with reality and with ourselves. It's better to bring new things in the open as soon as possible, after a good amount of experimentation, of course."

"Alright, Dr. Picard, but one thing is inventing the Internet and another is Telomerax."

"Do you really think Telomerax has radically changed our human condition? You know, fifty years ago, I would agree with you. Now, I definitely don't."

"Come on, stopping the aging process is not a trivial change in the history of mankind."

"Nor were the invention of vaccines and antibiotics, just talk about medicine." Dr. Picard retorted, "Eventually, if you look at it from a pure physiological perspective, Telomerax did much of the same, enabling more people to live longer and healthier than before. This, in turn, allowed us to learn more, and undertake things that previously were not possible. Think of travel. Vaccines and antibiotics allowed us to build societies able to put a few people in rockets to go to the Moon. Telomerax is allowing us solar system travel, and the next wave of deep space missions beyond it. In either case, we have not fundamentally changed our condition, aspirations and attitude. We cannot teleport ourselves to every corner of the Universe instantly, but we have gone a step further. You can easily find examples in every field by yourself. Telomerax just allows you to do more than before, and this is precisely what we have done since we left caves. Knowing this, we might well have avoided all the self-inflicted tragedies we went through."

"I do not fully buy into that, Dr. Picard. Vaccines and antibiotics did not set off a world war like Telomerax did."

"Yet the great wars of the last century all happened at the height of a tumultuous period. Just think of the advances in physics and the discovery of nuclear force between the two wars. This helped trigger and build up the chain of envy, fear, resentment and economic turmoil that eventually sparked the war. So, again, nothing new. I hold to my point that Telomerax is not a major deviation. However important, it is just another step in the drive to overcome our limits. Just like in the past. We are awful at managing this process. That did not change, either."

"Let's please stay on topic, Dr. Picard. What do you think is the worst, permanent side effect that Telomerax has brought us? I mean, for example, oil increased pollution, and nuclear energy gave us the bomb and radiations. In the early days, Telomerax variants boosted the rate of tumors, the wars have been a horrible learning experience, but how about the long-term risks of Telomerax?"

"Again, Telomerax just exacerbated a trend that was already well underway before I invented the drug, which is the removal of the experience of death."

"It is?"

"Today people experience only sudden deaths, and relatively few ones at that, because of the current 300 years or so average lifespan. In my opinion, this is bad for two reasons, at least. First, it hides away a crucial piece of human experience, and without experience it is very difficult to build informed views, no matter how much you study. I remember, when I was living in Brazil, how much the local tradition valued a good ending to life. It was so high that there was a specific word, the _bomfim_ , that was recalled in the name of many saints and churches. Sudden death was never a _bonfim_ , which instead contemplated a decent agony, for the better good of both the dying and the relatives. Telomerax has wiped this away, but again, the trend was already in place well before I invented the drug. Yet, removing a problem is not the same as solving it. It just leaves space for all kinds of alternative solutions, like Farlimas', for instance. No wonder that his sect, albeit greatly reduced in strength, is still present ten years after he died under the siege of the robots of the World Federation."

"At the time, you claimed it was a mistake to kill him, despite all he did against you and your loved ones. Do you still think so? His sect might be even stronger, if he were alive."

"Now, instead, we have given him the image of a martyr, and we can be sure the remaining survivors won't fade away and pass on their faith, until maybe favorable conditions arise in the future for the sect to spread again. You had to spare him and expose all his lies, starting from his abject cult of death. Again, I blame Telomerax, and myself, for making it way too easy for us to take our eyes off our archenemy, while failing to recognize the fact that we could simply eradicate death, like we did with polio."

"Eradicate death? Aren't you going a bit too far?"

"Not at all. Two days ago, I looked again at the statistics that I had explained more than twenty years ago in Vienna, at the representatives of the World Federation. Then I compared them to today's figures. Guess what? The vast majority of death cases is now almost exclusively linked to negligence or some form of crime, as accidents have been greatly reduced thanks to the pervasiveness of artificial intelligence. We have no more excuses, the blame is squarely on us, and we ignore it."

"So, what do we need in order to win it, eventually?"

"Look, even though I am not a Christian, I think St. Paul got it right, in his first letter to the Corinthians. In his vision of the last days, death is the last enemy to be defeated, after the fall of all worldly powers - that is, the end of envy and prosecutions, both illegal and legal ones. I wonder if I will be able to see that day. I really hope to."

"Dr. Picard, what do you see in your near future?"

"In my next ten years, my number one priority is the upbringing of Hannah, while keeping my heart open to new love. Then, I will keep studying, mostly helping out Dinesh in the fight against the remaining tumors that we have not yet understood, and his research about the neural mappings of aggressiveness. This is getting more complex by the increase of neural interconnections caused by Telomerax. We have superintelligence, yet the problem got even more complex."

"Dr. Picard, again, thank you very much for your time."

Louis Picard stood up from his chair, his hologram almost tried to shake our hands, then quickly transitioned into to a wave. He looked briefly at Hannah, who was putting the final touches onto her sketch on the canvas, and then he turned back to us. A faint smile appeared on his face, with a concentrated expression. It seemed as if he was looking for the right words to say goodbye. He looked at us one last time and warmly said,

"You're welcome."
Cast of Main Characters (in order of appearance)

Louis Picard: French-born scientist, inventor of Telomerax. Studied biology at Sorbonne and Cambridge in the 1960s, then moved on to work in the cosmetic industry.

Xavier Langlois: the first boss of Louis Picard at L'Oreal in the 1970s, and the first to grasp the significance of Louis' invention.

Dora Bershidsky: Second wife of Louis Picard, and first person chosen by Louis Picard to become immortal by means of to the drug.

Tarek Tantawy: Retired Egyptian Air Force officer, met Louis Picard in the 1980s and became the first member of his inner circle whose goal was to keep the drug secret.

Valerio Orsini: Italian spy to the Vatican and then media entrepreneur, he was accepted into Louis Picard's circle in the early 1990s.

George McKilroy: American venture capitalist and member of the circle, he was the first one to change identity while alive to become Sean Ewals.

Helena Rodrigo Fatima: Mexican girl who lost her family in the drug cartel wars, eventually moved up the ranks of the narcos to become a money laundering expert and eventually a respected international banker. The last member to join the circle in the 1990s.

Avi Eitan: Security system specialist at Ben Gurion International airport in Tel Aviv, was the first to detect George McKilroy under the cover of Sean Ewals during one of his trips to Israel.

Eyal Podhoretz: head of the Shin Bet (the counterespionage service of Israel) at the time of the detection of Sean Ewals.

Yaakov Mayer: head of the foreign operations of the Mossad (the secret service of Israel) cooperated with Eyal Podhoretz to uncover the organization of Louis Picard.

Skip Ross: A high-ranking officer of US Homeland Security, discovered the Israeli hunt for the circle of Louis Picard and used it to build his political ascent.

Greg Russo: Assistant to the Deputy Director of Operations of the CIA, was responsible for the Mediterranean and the Middle East at the time the Mossad stumbled upon the team of Louis Picard.

Rasim Al-Manna: Head of the Arab Emirates' secret service and friend of Tarek Tantawy, initially helped Picard and his circle to defend themselves against the Isreali investigation.

Lee Shing Chen or Mr. Lee: Chinese tycoon and mafia leader, helped George and Helena to find new covers in exchange for access to Telomerax insight.

Irina Kanchelskaya: Russian secret agent in the Arab Emirates and mistress of Rasim Al-Manna, involved Russia in the Telomerax game and later became a top army officer.

Charles Daniels: head of Research and Development at Pfizer, received sensitive information about Telomerax from Skip Ross and started developing derivatives of the drug.

Sally Goldberg: executive assistant and then girlfriend to Charles Daniels, also was informant of the Mossad.

Dinesh Kheradpir: chief biochemist at Pfizer reporting to Charles Daniels, led the initial research on Telomerax and then left the company and returned to his motherland India to start his own biotechnology company.

Dorian Picard: son of Louis and Dora Picard, became Minister of Welfare of Sweden after the global war that ended in 2056.

Alireza Gilani: head of the Iranian secret service, led the investigation in the Israeli killer fly drones used in the Gaza strip.

William Murdoch, Jr.: US Navy rear admiral and commander of the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln during the crisis of Rome in 2029.

Carl Levine: Captain of the E-Company, first regiment, 33rd Infantry brigade of the Illinois National Guard during the Chicago riots of 2033.

Farlimas: Ethiopian religious leader, seized control of the Bahai sect in the aftermath of the war and transformed it into a new creed, called Navibahaism, which quickly spread throughout Eurasia and Africa.

Ali Tantawy: nephew of Tarek Tantawy, became one of the top aides of Farlimas and an Orbital Elevator pilot.

Erika Fryjansdottir: Chief Inspector of the Swedish Criminal Police, worked with Louis and Helena to solve the case of the attack against Dorian Picard.

Moussa Nafaa: head of the Arabian Union secret service, cooperated with Yaakov Mayer to help foil the plots of the Navibahai sect.

Eli Mahlab: Prime Minister of Israel since 2062, spent his energy on balancing the need to avert a war with the Arabian Union while rebuilding the Jewish state in the aftermath of the global war.

