The Eighty-eighth Key
Part III
Chapter 19
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"You know, I do hope I've not presumed too much by bringing you up here, but this just happens to be my favorite place in the world to be."
"It is truly remarkable, Avi." Harry looked at the high alpine landscape - in winter - feeling a curious mixture of gut-busting fear, dread, and pure fascination. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and it seemed everywhere he looked there was nothing but pure, unblemished snow for as far as the eye could see.
They were standing near the top of the funicular railway that leads from Davos Dorf to the Weissfluhjoch Station, perched high above Davos and part of the Parsenn ski area. There were dozens of skiers scattered around, all busily putting on skis and adjusting goggles or gloves before taking off down the mountain, but what fascinated Harry most of all was Avi's decision to bring him up here.
Avi had not asked once if he could ski, and standing up here in the freezing wind it seemed a dizzying assumption to have made. Or a very calculated decision.
But he had, in high school, traveled up to Tahoe more than a few times, and he had learned to ski at Squaw Valley just after that ski area had hosted the Olympics, but that had been almost twenty years ago. The skis he stood on this morning seemed only vaguely familiar, and his feet ached in the rigid plastic boots; Avi - on the other hand - moved about with practiced ease on his skis and spoke with arrogant confidence as he used his ski pole to point out several local mountain landmarks.
And it hit Harry suddenly. He was being measured by this man...judged. As what? A man? Worthy of something? Or did Avi expect to find him wanting in some way?
"How are your boots? Comfortable enough?"
Harry slid back and forth on his skis, forcing the blood in his legs to circulate, then he reached down and adjusted two buckles. "Good enough for a warm up run."
"Excellent!" Avi pushed off and made for one of the easier trails down the mountain, and Harry fell in behind and watched the old man ski.
For his age he appeared to be doing well enough, but even to Harry's unpracticed eye Avi wasn't a particularly accomplished or gifted skier. The old man made long traverses and slow, mostly tentative turns, and he stopped more than once that first run to simply catch his breath - something Harry felt no need for. Still, he understood Avi was at least twice his age, and that the old man lived in a country not particularly well known for alpine skiing, so he was still somewhat inclined to sit back and wait for the inevitable trap to spring.
When they made their way to the end of the trail Avi stopped and rubbed his thighs before he looked up and turned to Harry - and the old man was beaming.
"Do you know, Harry, that is the first time I have made it down without falling!"
"You looked a little uncertain at first, but to me it looked like you're pretty good at this."
The old man smiled openly now. "You think so?"
Harry nodded, meeting the old man's infectious smile with one of his own, yet he felt a little awkward when Avi clapped him on the shoulder.
"There is a very nice restaurant up top if you would indulge me. Are you up to one more run?"
"Absolutely. And if it warms up a little it might even be enjoyable!"
And they both laughed as they poled over to the funicular station for their second ride up the mountain.
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Frank Bullitt was with Captain Bennett and the Israeli intel officer at a small diner just outside of Santa Cruz; there eyes were cast down on bowl's of chowder as if each was lost in thoughts of mortal import, and their concentration appeared complete.
"You're absolutely sure about all this?" Bennett said, still unable to look up from his soup.
The old Israeli shrugged. "I am never absolutely sure about anything in this business, but we have two recordings now..."
"Not over land-lines...?"
"No, they've gone deep now," the old man said. "Operating like old pros, which is what bothers me most of all."
"Why's that?"
"Well, Captain, think about it. They either have ex-intel people on the inside, or they are being advised or directed by an active intel operation outside your ranks."
"Who has that capability?" Bullitt asked...and the old man grinned when their eyes met.
"Any nation or organization intent on destabilizing the region," the Israeli sighed.
Bennett crossed his arms when he leaned back in the booth. "Destabilize...the Bay Area? Are you serious?"
The old man swallowed hard as he nodded. "There's a tremendous amount of money in the region, as well as incredible academic energy. The climate is perfect, and there is ready access to international markets. Computer companies are relocating here as fast as they can..."
"So...?"
"Well, Captain...think about the long game...but think about why someone, or some group, would want to make their opening move with an infiltration of local law enforcement agencies."
"You're talking about an organization, aren't you?" Bullitt said.
The old man coughed once, before he nodded. "My biggest concern right now would be a criminal organization backed by an interested nation-state. When the French first started to get a grip on the heroin trade setting up in Marseilles they first encountered Corsican operatives, but soon enough they began peeling back the layers of the onion...and what did they find?"
Bennett shrugged, but Frank knew the outlines... "First they traced the goods back to Afghanistan, then to Turkey..."
"But who was running the overall organization, Detective?"
Bullitt shrugged.
"It was a long trail, a trail that led from Palermo to Damascus, but there the trail grew cold and hard to follow. Ultimately, the French lacked the political resolve to follow the trail because they soon understood that the objective was not located in France."
"Oh?" Bennett said. "Where, then?"
"New York City, of course, but even Interpol missed the common denominator. It was first detected anecdotally in Newark, then with a little effort it was detected in smaller outlying suburbs surrounding New York City. Support personnel in various departments were co-opted - turned, if I may use the term - but even so patterns emerged.
"Most police department use women for dispatch duties, and these women are underpaid. As such, they are easy to recruit, though of course unwittingly. Other support personnel follow; records clerks, jailers, even maintenance workers. Once penetrated at this level agents assume positions either inside the organization or around its periphery, and once this is accomplished others already employed by the agency are identified as possible recruits. An aggrieved group usually emerges as the focus of recruitment efforts - racial animosity, as well as religious or ethnic strife - all are utilized.
"Once the shadow organization is in place, operational parameters can be changed almost at will. Instead of being agents of change, for instance, the organizations actions can be reoriented to raising cash for a greater cause. You only need to use your imagination here, but once the nucleus of the organization is up and running your options grow exponentially."
Bennett lit up a cigar and growled. "And you think this is happening now, in my city?"
The old man leaned back and shrugged. "I put this forth more as an idea you need consider. Also, for such a complex organization to be at work in this region would mean that it has been operationally active for years. Penetration will be deep, and you must understand that if discovered, it will be found in the most unexpected places - and hidden deep within all levels of the institutional and political hierarchy."
Bennett chomped on his cigar, turning thoughts over in his mind as possibilities presented in his mind... "You mentioned an organization, a criminal organization, supported by a nation-state. And what was that about the French giving up...? At Damascus? You mean, in Syria?"
"Yes, of course."
"Are you telling me the fucking Syrians wanted to take over New York City?"
