The Protector (2 page)

Protector

2
Tel Aviv

I could not get off the plane fast enough when we landed in Tel Aviv.    It had been a long flight and my legs were stiff from sitting so long. But I honestly could have lived with the stiffness a little while longer if it weren’t the annoying red head who had sat behind me. He was an obnoxious cad about ten years older than I, who thought he was God’s gift to women. Most of the flight was spent listening to him recount his recent escapade in Miami with some model.  What annoyed me even more was the fact that each time I got up to use the lavatory, he would stop talking and watch me. It was as if he wanted me to know he was watching me.  He made my stomach turn and sent a shudder through me each and every time I glanced at him.  The only consolation was the extremely good looking man who sat a few rows in front of me.

As I walked toward customs, I vowed I would not let him ruin this trip. As selfish as it seemed, this was my trip, my shining moment to prove my worth and expertise. 

             
“Do what you do best young lady, knock their socks off, academically speaking of course!”  Tom had told me when he announced at the last minute he wasn’t going to be attending the symposium. He said those words like a proud father instead of the boss and mentor he was. He had taken a huge chance on hiring me fresh out of graduate school and with little practical work experience. On paper though, I looked good.  He often reminded me how important I was to his group, but I always felt the urge to really prove my worth and this was my opportunity.  My background was not in the design of satellite processors, but in the handling of its technology by the nations of the world.

Tom’s only request for the trip was for me to deliver a processor off the production line to a colleague of his from Tel Aviv University. I didn’t find this an odd request as I knew this type of technology swapping happened all the time. It was an academic exercise and with Israel being one of our allies, it seemed like normal protocol. After all I had written about such exchanges in college.

My days in Tel Aviv flew by and I enjoyed every bit of the fast paced life there. I had met some interesting people at the conference, including a young Israeli academic named Joed. He managed to show me all the interesting sites in Tel Aviv, and he was always full of questions about my work. But no matter where we went or how many people we were with, I could never quite shake the feeling I was being watched. The feeling didn’t go away, especially on my last day in Tel Aviv. I had arranged to meet Tom’s friend Professor Hasan at the Carmel Market. On this particular Friday it was bustling with activity but Professor Hasan had mentioned that there was a quiet outdoor café close to the market where we could meet. Hassan had given me a description of himself and I was set to meet him in the early afternoon before my scheduled flight home.  I raced around my room that morning gathering all my belongings for the trip home. I ignored the nagging beep coming from my cell phone figuring it was my friend Stacy trying desperately to contact me for one thing or another. It had been nice to get away from her constant chorus of me, me and me and her obsessive need to know everything I was doing.

My mind was preoccupied as I walked out of the hotel and into the most amazing man I could remember ever laying eyes on.  He was about six foot two with brown hair and eyes the most beautiful golden tone I had ever seen.  They were the color that one saw for only a day or so in the fall right before the leaves turned brown.  It was the first thing I noticed and only thing I noticed. They captivated me.

“Sorry,” he said in a thick accent I couldn’t make out and pulled the cap he was wearing down and held the door to the waiting cab for me. It seemed odd, but, then again everything was odd to me here.

             
Every hair on my arm stood up and I could feel my heart race frantically in my chest.  “Thank you,” I managed to utter as I threw my belongings into the cab.

The café was busy, as Joed had warned me, and it took me a few minutes to find Professor Hassan.

“Professor Hassan?”

The dark middle aged man nodded his head and stood in front of me. He was shorter than I anticipated and the look on his face was odd.  He did not smile, nor did he look up to meet my eyes.  “Do you have my package?”

“Yes,” I reached into my purse and grabbed the processor I had brought half way around the world.  As quickly as I could get it out of my purse, he grabbed out of my hands. “Hey!”

“Thank you. Please give your friends my regards.”

I stood there stunned, and unnerved. This wasn’t at all how Tom had described his colleague.  I could only watch the retreating man in disbelief.  He disappeared quickly into the crowd and I sucked in a deep breath as I ignored the cell phone vibrating in my purse.

‘Oh well,’ I uttered and began to move back through the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the annoying red headed man from my flight.  Not far away from him stood Joed, or a man that looked a lot like him.  Confusion filled me. Joed had mentioned that this was one of the busiest market places in Tel Aviv, but why was it that everywhere I went I caught glimpses of the man.  My phone continued to vibrate and out of frustration I reached in and grabbed it. As I looked back up to the spot where I had seen the red head and Joed, they were both gone. 

“What Stacy? This international call is going to cost me a fortune!”  I continued to turn around looking for the two men, but the crowd had grown in number and looking for them was a futile effort.

“Alison.  Where the hell have you been? I left message after message for you at your hotel!”

I sighed in frustration at my friends words.  I knew from experience that there was always a lecture to follow when you ignored Stacy.  But this time, I didn’t get a lecture. Instead I heard the words I never expected her to say.

             
“Tom’s dead Alison.  They found him at his home this morning.”

“Dead?”  I could hardly push the words out of my mouth as I felt the wind being knocked out of me.  I turned briefly around in a circle again unable to digest her words. Where Joed had stood a few minutes earlier, another man with dark brown hair stood in his place. He tried desperately to blend in with the café patrons, but the look on his face clued me in on the fact he was not a regular.  He had been watching me and he seemed oddly familiar. He quickly turned away as I listened to Stacy, pushing through the crowd.

“Alison, did you hear me?”  I could hear her husband Ted in the background and I could hear Stacy telling him to be quiet. “Alison, are you there?”

“How?” I managed to stutter. My body began to shake as I realized my boss and mentor was now gone.

“They aren’t sure.  Aren’t you coming home tonight?”  Her voice was full of worry and I could tell she was frantic.  I only nodded my head not remembering I was talking on the phone to her.  I caught sight of the dark haired man once again. He was closer to me now, only about ten feet away and he was talking on the phone. He glanced up our eyes locking for the briefest second.  

“Alison?”  

“Stacy, I have to go. I will be home later.” I began to walk quickly away from the man toward a line of waiting cabs.  My pace increased as fear filled me.

“Alison, are you ok?”  Stacy was screaming into the phone.

             
I didn’t answer my friend’s words and hung up my phone as I got into an empty cab, sorrow replaced the fear. “Airport please.”

As he drove quickly through the busy streets of Tel Aviv, I tried to comprehend what Stacy had said, but I couldn’t. I barely waited for the cab to come to a complete stop before I threw what cash I had at the man, and jumped out as quickly as I could.  I had sent my luggage ahead of time, so my wait through customs would be short. And as far as I was concerned, the faster I made it to the terminal gate, the more comfortable I would be.  Suddenly my perfect little trip wasn’t so perfect.

             
Like the market, the airport was busy and I scanned the groups looking for any sign of the red head, even Joed. My nervousness and fear seemed to subside as I realized the sheer numbers of young Israeli soldiers who walked around with automatic weapons strapped to their bodies. Tensions were high and eight years after 9/11, getting on an airplane still caused the worst fears in people. Today, the weapons, the soldiers they didn’t make me nervous. Instead I felt calm and safe. 

I finally was able breathe a sigh of relief, when I took my seat at the terminal gate. Surprisingly enough, it was less crowded and quieter than the rest of the airport, with only a few people around.  I knew I needed to call Stacy back, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to her or anyone for that matter.

Time seemed to come to a complete stop as I sat there waiting for my flight to be called. I was bored and nothing I did made time pass any faster. I had tried to read, but I couldn’t focus.  Instead I began to glance around at all the people who were now filling the terminal. One man in particular caught my attention. He wore a worn New York Yankees baseball cap that looked like it had once belonged to Babe Ruth.  His dark brown hair was short under the hat and he wore blue jeans, and a navy blue t-shirt. He was reading the local newspaper in Hebrew but he looked nothing like a local to me.  What surprised me the most was how oddly familiar he was. I wasn’t sure where I had seen him before, but I was sure I had.

He sat straight as if he were a product of the United States Marine Corps and he was very aware of his surroundings, especially of the young soldiers carrying the automatic weapons. Despite the fact he seemed familiar, he didn’t frighten me. He was way too handsome to be anything scary. Suddenly, visions of him danced in and out of my head.  I imagined him in a tuxedo, driving an Aston Martin and asking for a Martini shaken not stirred.

A giggle escaped my lips as I banished the thoughts out of my head. He was good looking, ‘who wouldn’t fantasize about him,’ I thought to myself. It was difficult to pull my eyes away from him. What was even more intriguing was the tattoo on his forearm. It was probably 6 inches long and it looked like it was a huge cross.    

             
“Great!” I mumbled. I wasn’t looking at my own personal version of 007. I was looking at some ex-con who was visiting the Holy Land looking for redemption.  I decided that I liked the 007 vision of him better. 

             
I continued to watch him out of the corner of my eye. It wasn’t until he waved at me, that I realized I was no longer glancing at him, but staring. Panic ripped through me, as I stared into the liquid golden hue of his eyes.  It was same golden color of the man I had run into earlier in the day coming out of the hotel.  My heart began to race as he looked away from me and began to gather his belongings.  And before I even realized it, he was gone. I stood up looking around for
him, but the crowd that had now
formed at the gate was blocked his retreating figure.

3 First impressions

I watched as panic filled her eyes.  I quickly grabbed my belongings and retreated into the growing crowd. I had sat watching her and could tell she was nervous. She moved one leg under the other over and over again in a short period of time. She thumbed through the magazine she held but never really read anything in it.  She seemed to be more interested in the people around her than she was in whatever periodical sat in her lap. In a way this relieved me, she was orientating herself with her surroundings and the people around her, more so than she had done before.  The only problem with that, she was bound to recognize me. And when she did, it would already be too late. The game had suddenly become much more complicated.

             
She wore jeans and a dark green camisole top and a white short sleeved lace sweater that settled
mid-thigh
.  Although she was dressed more causal than she had been all week, there was nothing casual about her today. Her eyes were something I had noticed when I ran into her earlier that morning. And from that point on, their color was permanently imprinted in my mind. And from the few feet I sat from her now, I could tell they were a brilliant green and full of fear and sadness. Her world as she knew was gone.  The handoff at the plaza had gone wrong. She didn’t know it but the man she had handed the processor to was not Professor Hassan. Matter of fact, we had no idea who she had given it to.  Both Seth and I had watched the handoff, as did the Israeli intelligence officer who had befriended her earlier in the week. But none of that was my concern. I needed to get her the hell out of Tel Aviv and back on US soil.

I suddenly felt sorry for her as I walked away from her. She had no idea she had been used.  The processor she had been asked to give to Professor Hassan was a unique one.  A test processor similar to ones used in spy satellites, as well as missiles that defied anything Reagan envisioned when he tried to establish the Star Wars program. It didn’t matter that the Cold War was over, this processor in the hands of the wrong nations, or a terrorist organization, was trouble. It was a hot commodity and something the Israeli’s desperately wanted.