Welcome to DouglasDeBono.Com, the Cyberspace Home of author Douglas De Bono. Mr. DeBono seamlessly blends history and fiction with the deft precision of a literary surgeon. His knowledge of special forces, intelligence agencies, political corruption and the tradecraft of espionage are unrivaled in the literary world. --Jim Clonts, Author Of MIG Drivers I was glued to my cozy chair during the entire story! I enjoyed the characters and found both the dialogue and the plot of this fantastic story a real edge of your seat kind of read from cover-to-cover! (A Highly Recommended Novel!) --Victoria Taylor Murray, Author Of Friendly Enemies/Le Fin

Unit 999
by Douglas DeBono, 2005

1

The Mule

Ari Weiss lived a fairly comfortable life. His wife and two daughters benefited from the family gem business. Ari specialized in diamonds, and the trade demanded he make six or seven international trips to New York, Bangkok and Johannesburg each year.

He caught the train that ran to the Tel Aviv Central Train Station, close to the hotel district. From there he could catch Bus 222, which provides express service to Ben Gurion International Airport.

Ari preferred to fly El Al, but the Israeli national airline did not always provide service to his destinations when he needed them. Today, he was booked on the Delta flight to New York’s JFK.

He timed the flight so he would arrive during the business day. He planned to make directly for New York’s diamond district on 47th Street between Fifth Avenue and the Avenue of the Americas. Over ninety percent of all diamonds that come into the United States pass through the Diamond District.

On a normal trip, he would conduct his business and arrange to keep his purchases locked in the safe of one of his friends. Only today was not a normal day and his business would take a decidedly abnormal turn.

Two neatly dressed men settled into the seats on either side of Ari as they rode towards the Central Train Station. One of them pulled out a wireless Blackberry PDA and began working the handheld computer. The other looked over at Ari and said, “Nice day isn’t it.”

Rain splattered against the windows as they rolled along the light rail, Ari shrugged, concentrating on keeping track of his locked briefcase and his luggage.

The one with the Blackberry let out a satisfied sigh, “There we are,” he smiled and glanced across at his companion.

“Are you going on a trip?” asked the Weather man.

Ari smiled appreciatively and murmured, “Yes.”

“New York is such a large city,” said the Blackberry man.

Ari shrugged uncomfortably. Most of the time, people left him alone. “I never said I was going to New York,” replied Ari apprehensively.

“But you are,” said the confident Weather man.

The Blackberry man tilted the PDA screen so that Ari could see it. “You have a very nice family,” he said cheerfully.

Dancing across the small screen were his girls getting ready to go to school. Cold fear shot through him.

“Yeah, that’s your family,” confirmed the Weather man.

“Web cams, wireless technology and the Internet—it’s amazing what you can do these days. Instant communication—it would be a shame for something to happen to the little girls,” hissed the Blackberry man.

An iron grip latched onto his wrist and the Weather man said quietly, “What does or does not happen to them is entirely up to you. You see that’s a real time image.”

“We’re that close,” smiled the Blackberry man.

“What do you want?’ asked Ari, turning back to the Weather man.

“Nothing you can’t do,” he said coldly.

“Of course, one slip up and we’ll know. They’ll die and it will be horrible,” promised the Blackberry man.

“You’re a diabetic,” continued the Weather man.

Ari nodded dumbly. His whole world was spinning away from him. His children were hostage to these thugs.

The Blackberry man tugged on Ari’s sleeve and whispered, “We’ll kill the youngest one first—right in front of her mother. We’ll tell them that you decided to be a boy scout.”

“Boy scouts are not what we want,” countered the Weather man.

“Boy scouts end up getting their women killed,” added the Blackberry man.

Life meant nothing to these people. It meant nothing at the school in Beslan, Russia or on a Jerusalem bus during rush hour or aboard airplane as it smashed into the World Trade Center. These people relished the idea of homicidal immolation. They sought succor in the agony of strangers and hugged a philosophy of death tight to their bosom. They were the perpetrators of a sordid fanaticism emanating straight from the pit of hell.

“There is a way you can prevent all those things from happening,” confided the Weather man.

Ari wondered what he would do when evil stalked his steps. Did he have the courage of his convictions or was there a price tag attached to his soul? His eyes strayed to the jerky images parading on the Blackberry screen. His girls were getting into the car for the trip to school. Neither Ari nor his wife wanted the girls to take the bus—the danger from the homicide bombers was too great.

“A little Semtex and the car goes straight up,” threatened the Blackberry man. “We know how to do those sorts of things. Do you want to spend the rest of your days looking over your shoulder?”

There was price to his soul, and Ari was watching it. “What do you want?” he asked desperately.

“A simple thing,” breathed the Weather man.

Ari nodded. His heart hammered between his ribs and his fingers tingled. Sweat beaded on his lips and trickled along his side burns.

“You are permitted to carry Insulin,” declared the Blackberry man.

Ari’s eyes strayed from the locked brief case to his overnight bag.

“We could care less about your pretty stones,” spat the Weather man. He reached down to his over night bag and tugged it free from Ari’s legs.

“We’re going to add some additional ampoules to your bag,” explained the Blackberry.

“Try not to get them confused, Jew,” warned the Weather man harshly. He unzipped the bag and added a black case marked diabetic insulin to the overnight bag.

“We’ll be watching every step of the way,” said the Blackberry man. “We’ll know if you betray us.” He waggled the PDA ominously.

“On the plane, on the ground—if you tell security, then they’re dead,” promised the Weather man.

“Of course, if you keep your mouth shut and go about your business, then we’ll just vanish into the air. All your worries will go away. The little girl will grow up to be a cheap whore, but you can’t have everything,” snickered the Blackberry man.

The Weather man shoved the overnight bag back between Ari’s legs. “This must be our stop,” he said a bit louder.

“Have a good flight,” said the Blackberry man.

With that they got to their feet and walked towards the exit. Ari had one more stop to go. His gaze rested on the overnight bag. All this for a few extra bottles of insulin—it did not make sense.

He was grateful he had booked passage on the Delta flight. He would miss the rigors of El Al’s security interviews. It occurred to him that the two men knew this already.

Ari leaned back and tried to relax, but the recent encounter left him with a sense of dread. He had no idea what he actually carried in his luggage. A routine search would determine if it was a bomb, but he doubted they would be so crude. He sensed something more ominous, but what choice did he have?

They promised to kill his girls. The threatened to take the very light from his life should he betray them. All he had to do was carry their package across the ocean through customs. He closed his eyes and steeled himself as he approached his stop. The target was not Israel this time. He could justify whatever came next with those simple words. He could spare his girls and avoid disaster. The Americans were a tough, warrior clan—they knew how to handle these kinds of people.

He rolled these lies and half-truths around his brain and wrapped his hope about the rot. At some level, Ari knew he was lying to himself, but he did not care.

The train stopped at the Tel Aviv Central Train Station. Ari got to his feet and strode onto the platform. The diamond merchant was a mule, and the mule carried a terrible carnage. He closed his ears to the truth and walked hand in hand with the devil. It never occurred to him similar betrayals had happened in places called Auschwitz and Buchenwald.

They had found the price of his soul, and he paid it happily.

Douglas De Bono / DouglasDeBono.Com Minneapolis/St. Paul, Minnesota E-Mail readermail@DouglasDeBono.Com