Rachel 2

Naomi (the "kidnapper") and I have just sat down for lunch. Along comes Cindy, ingratiating smile, "mind if I join y'all?"
Naomi and I glance at each other; I say, "sure, no problem."
Earnest tone, "say look Rachel, I'm real sorry for that. I only realized after, you coulda taken that as anti-Semitic."
I shrug, "Cindy, the whole world knows how hyper you are without those meds. Just couldn't resist a good opening line. Hey, you're forgiven, no prob."
"Thanks so much. Rumor true? You staying with Naomi again?"
I laugh easily, "I like it there, her family has a better TV."
Cindy waxes enthusiastic, "your Mum is just way too cool. That's the third time now."
I start to blush.
Over-enthused, "wow, I mean first time she got 30 days. Second, 60. Third, 90 and a warning from the judge any future offences will lead to a psy evaluation."
I smile wanly, "which I'm sure she'd fail."
Again gushing with enthusiasm, "like wow, someone should report your Mum to the Guinness Book of Records. I don't think that's ever been done before. For one person to actually pie the Mayor, the provincial Premier and the Canadian Prime Minister. Awesome!"
We all laugh heartily.
Again with unbridled over-enthusiasm, "and talk about the Prime Minister, is that dude way cool or what? There he is on national TV, dripping Boston cream all over and joking with reporters that he actually prefers chocolate cream."
The laughter spreads to several nearby tables.
Pensive smile, Cindy says, "my Mum is just dead boring. Any time you wanna trade, Rachel, just say the word."
I realize she's only half-joking there. I give a dry smile, "you do ah realize, she does other stuff than just shows up in the news?"
Cindy punches my arm playfully, "well then, bring it on, we'll swap whenever you like."

Rachel 1

The door is unlocked and the female kidnapper comes in. Despite her face being hidden by the ski mask, I sense an air of jollity.
She sits a ways away. Forget overpowering her, she's bigger and has a gun in her holster. And that's to say nothing of the two men outside the door. She has kept them mannerly thus far, so by far my best odds are to cooperate with her.
"Mrs Klein, time you and I talked philosophy. Now see those two no-minds, they're to blame you're here. I said never choose a wife, you just never know how hubby will react; instead choose a child, he'll always pay." Switches to sarcastic tone, "but that's democracy for you, I was outvoted two to one."
We both laugh.
"Mrs Klein, just guess your husband's reaction."
"Not hard to do, he flat out refused to pay so much as a nickel."
"We started at a million, kept dropping down, finally just asked for two grand to cover expenses. He wouldn't even cough up that."
I nod.
"So guess what happens next."
A way too cheerfully, I reply, "you kill me of course."
This takes her back, she ponders a moment, then, "I can see you find the idea interesting. But forget it, no murder raps please. We're just gonna turn you loose."
"But but, surely"
"No risk, you haven't seen any faces. Only problem, you must not know where here is or cops could vacuum it for DNA evidence. We're gonna drop you some ten miles down a disused logging road. By the time you walk to the highway, we've got time a plenty for getaway."
"That is really very kind of you, thank you."
"Mrs Klein, it ain't my place to give marital advice, but all the same, are you really going back to that clown?"
"I ah well ah that is"
"Surely by now he's shown what he thinks of you."
"Ye-es, I have thought a bit. Just long enough to get clothes, then my attorney will be in touch with his."
She laughs, "that's much better, now look at the bright side of all this."
"There is one?"
"Sure there is, I ask you, what if all this happened ten years later?"
"Ah you mean ah"
"At least now you're still young enough to find someone else."
A girl's voice chimes in, "how she looks, hell'd freeze over before she finds anyone. I'm guessing Mr Klein was legally blind."
The class roars with laughter. Teacher scowls, "Cindy, you and I will talk privately later."
Cindy's defiant smirk says bring it on.
The "kidnapper" peels off the mask, quietly says, just to me, "horrible itchy thing. What a b**** she is! We coulda got applause instead we get laughed at."
I shrug, "that's show biz. Forget what the kids say, only thing important is does Teacher give us a good mark?"
She punches my arm playfully, "yeah, guess that's how it goes. One week you play Broadway. Next week, off Broadway, a night club in the Catskills."
We both laugh.
After recess, Teacher asks Cindy to come up front.
Cindy gives a goofy grin, "ah Rachel, sorry I insulted you during the play." Blushes a bit, "truth is, Mum forgot my medication this morning."
I nod gravely, thank her. With Cindy, that's all the apology you'll ever get.
And when I discover we got a B+, the matter is over, far as I'm concerned. I'm just not a person who gets into revenge. And I actually do believe she's without meds today.

Table of Contents

"Evelyn" - novella length - entered January 16, 2007 to February 20, 2007
growing up in Victoria of the future

"Susan" - novella - December 31, 2006 to January 11, 2007
narrator is dragged out of her peaceful life into an international conspiracy

All other items, please scroll down at right and click on "November 2006."

Table of Contents

"Evelyn" - novella length - entered January 16, 2007 to February 20, 2007
growing up in Victoria of the future

"Susan" - novella - December 31, 2006 to January 11, 2007
narrator is dragged out of her peaceful life into an international conspiracy

All other items, please scroll down at right and click on "November 2006."

Evelyn 12

I wake up early, before the alarm in Mum's room rings. Time to think about the dream. On the surface, easy to place, simply a man in our congregation. Very quiet, keeps to himself. Only things known about him are he came from Israel and is employed in the prison service.
And yet the dream was so vivid and so realistic. I ponder what it means to me, decide it's a warning. Go slow on the diary, don't overdose, it'll be powerful.
Over breakfast, I casually say, "Mum, I've had a chance to think about it. I'd like your help to ration out the diary."
She looks happy to hear this, then, "what made you think that?"
"It'll be really powerful, like say an adult drinking espresso or straight whisky. Too much at a time could be a real problem."
"Well dear, what pace do you think is right?"
"Give it to me after breakfast Saturday, I'll give it back by lunch. Gives me a week to think about each half day part."
She smiles, "I tossed and turned half the night, trying to figure a way to say exactly that. I'm relieved to see you're a sensible person. Very grown up for your age."

By now, I'm sure the gentle reader is overcome with curiosity, as to what juicy military secrets are enclosed therein.
None, if that's what you seek, look up Prof Goldstein's "History of the Commandos."
The Major wrote nothing secret. It was his feelings about his personal and professional life, his struggles with bureaucracy.
For me, it marks a watershed, a start into the adult world. Now I understand much better what awaits when I grow up. I start examining my strengths and weaknesses carefully, comparing against career requirements.
Brent's cousin transfers into James Bay Elementary. He's only half as much a geek, so when I get the chance I grab him.
Oh and the dresses, my aunt the journalist had a talk with Mum. Must have been tactful as Mum didn't kill her. The upshot is the aunt will take me clothes shopping before next school year starts.
That seems to be the way with Jews. Anyone getting too eccentric is gently dragged back toward the norm.

Evelyn 11

Still in the dream of course, conversation peters out. One of the guys turns to me, friendly tone, "come on Ari, we're bored to death with each others' stories. Give us one."
I blush, "reason I don't say much, well, it's just my life is lots more boring than y'all."
"Oh come on, that just ain't true. Now and again you give funny stories from Israel and they're always good."
Murmurs of agreement.
"I don't really know a story to pick."
"Tell us how it is you came to come to Canada."
"Man, that's a long boring story."
"We got loads of time, want to hear it."
Murmurs of agreement.
"Well you see, when I was a little boy in elementary, things looked good for me. I had a real talent for English, did the best of anyone in my grade. Math, I wasn't a genius or anything like that, but way above average. Now you take those two traits, any Israeli could make good assuming he gets reasonable luck of the draw.
"But I was raised ultraOrthodox, Haredim, what y'all would call Black Hats in slang. Now in elementary, there is lots of secular topics, so I did ok.
"Once I started lower yeshiva, that's a religious high school, whole different ball game. No more secular studies at all. So all those other Israelis kept on getting better in stuff like English and math; whereas us, doing religion only, started to forget it.
"It's there my particular weakness showed up. I just cannot read for any long period of time and that's all they do.
"Now once you're 18, it's like a cultural thing, every Haredi has to go to yeshiva. If you don't, drafted into the army. Now it's not like people are over afraid of death. After all, considering how many serve, casualties are quite low.
"What it is, it's the end of your life. You are considered totally disreputable. Lose all your friends, family disown you, never get married.
"And so, no matter how poor a student you are, there's always a yeshiva of low enough quality that'll let you in. No one is ever turned away totally, that would be like a victory for the seculars.
"Anyhow, there was six of us, just could not read much, and we had to do something to be sort of belonging to the yeshiva, so we got into Peylim.
"What they do is follow around any suspicious foreigners. You see it's against the law for a non-Jewish missionary to operate in Israel. And the worst of the lot is the Jews for Jesus set.
"Now some Peylim groups operate on muscle, beat up people, but that wasn't our way. We'd gather evidence, turn it over to the Police to prosecute. In fact, our group got four guys thrown out of Israel, back to the States.
"Things were fun, right up til the army did the big investigation. They claimed all the Peylim were really just draft dodgers, not legitimate students.
"Now any of the violent groups, got the book thrown at them.
"But us, different. You see, seculars claim to hate us, but I don't think it's true, I think they secretly admire us. Almost anything non-violent, Haredim get off real easy.
"And so the army ruled that our two years of Peylim was really a service to Israel, as backed by testimony of the Police. We'd only hafta do one year of the draft.
"We never saw any field duty. Our whole year was tied up in basic training and getting us up to grade ten level in secular studies.
"We got honorable discharges, same as everyone else. But then the trouble started. You see, your army record is everything when it comes to employability. So, a para or commando does better than infantry. The Gitavi or Golani infantry do better than most. Any West Bank or Gaza duty gives you points. To have been in South Lebanon, even on a short raid, points.
"So us, we weren't seculars, didn't have the army credentials, yet we weren't Haredim anymore. Totally disreputable, disowned.
"Two of the guys went and joined a militant illegal colony in the West Bank. Two more ended up homeless drunks, one managed to go to the States, and me, Canada."
One of the guys smiles, "there you see, not boring at all, right guys?"
Agreement.
"Ari, you gotta talk more in future, don't be so shy. Tell me, you like Canada?"
"Fabulous place, everyone minds their own business, I'm just like anyone else walking down Douglas."

Evelyn 10

Almost always, my dreams are gray, dark, vague, without much detail, not memorable. Only occasionally will I get a full color, detailed dream. When I do so, it stands out, I take notice.
The very Tuesday evening, after the Col departs, I find myself (in dream) at Beacon Hill Park.
My location there is absolutely unmistakable, the furthest west duck pond, near to Douglas Street.
However, in this dream, I'm not myself. I'm a guard, supervising a dozen prisoners in orange coveralls. They pretend to pick up litter, but there isn't much, as people mostly respect the park.
Surreptiously, I check, discover I don't even own a sidearm. My momentary panic gives way as I realize these are minimum security prisoners, out on a plum job; hence unlikely to misbehave.
Eventually the men give up, as there simply is no more litter. They congregate together, sit or lie on the grass near the pond and start to chat.
It's talk of sex, doings of other criminals, drugs, booze, gambling, bottle picking, working in northern bush camps.
Slowly I realize, I'm not being left out, excluded. No one is rude to me or ignoring me. It's just, well, their talk is so far away from my own experience, that to me it's like they're speaking Swahili.

Evelyn 9

Col M starts by taking out a Middle East map, without labels. Cheerful tone, "Evelyn dear, can you tell me which is Israel?"
By this I surmise she runs across some real deadheads. I get all of the neighboring countries right too.
Then we fence for maybe 20 minutes, her always probing how aware I am of current events.
We dissect South Lebanon, complete with estimated numbers of neoHezbollah, Syrian soldiers and Iranian technical advisors.
Then on to Gaza, where neoFatah and neoHamas are duking it out with shoulder held neutron bombs.
Then on to demographics of Israel proper, including how many Haredim dodge the draft and how many Israeli Arabs aren't called.
She slips in a history question, the Israeli commando raid on the Syrian nuke site a dozen years ago. I reply it was a complete success, utter destruction, at the price of one death, the Major leading the raid, and several minor injuries.
She moves on to the great financial scandal. Here I'm careful, only give out what I heard from Mr Klein. Anything further would raise suspicion.
Ever so smoothly she switches topic to religion. Doesn't ask what I think of Haredim per se, which brings out strong reactions in many Jews. Instead she asks me to compare Hasidics to the Lithuanian school of thought.
"Quite frankly Col, I admire the Lithuanians, though I don't agree with lifestyle. They at least have respect for the individual. Each person's duty to learn Torah himself. He may get advice, may argue with others; but bottom line, each person is sovereign, decides on the interpretation.
"Now Hasids strike me as little better than kindergarten kids. All that mind numbing conformity. Top down driven attitude of Rabbi-knows-all. Anyone with one ounce of brains is chased outa the fold."
By now, she and Mum are laughing.
Col smiles indulgently, "let's look at just one Hasid belief. What's your view on reincarnation?"
"Col, 99% of Jews in this city would pooh pooh it. Not me, I've seen just enough evidence to accept it's possible. I won't say yes or no; just as I grow older, maybe I'll learn more."
Mum looks like she'll faint.
Col smiles, "ok, digress a bit. Give me a quick rundown on what you've picked up from TV about Crime Scene Investigation."
"Col, fingerprints, voice prints, DNA, have been around centuries. Electronic energy is the thing of our century. Absolutely everyone on the planet owns a graph that is different, as unique as fingerprints. We're not just flesh and bones, we're bundles of energy. With the right technology, we can be trailed from the crime scene."
"Good, now guess what happens if this concept were applied to reincarnation."
"Obvious Col, those who lived before the invention would be simply untrackable. Anyone who lived since, assuming they had a reading done before death, would be clearly identifiable."
Col smiles gently, "I'll ask for your word, both of you, what comes next is secret."
Mum and I agree.
"The IDF is taking soldiers' readings, but only on a voluntary basis. Some soldiers choose to pass on information to themselves in the future. These are mostly Hasids who left that world, became secular for whatever reason. They write a diary, seal it up before going off on anything dangerous."
"You're joking Col?"
"Not at all, the Major leading the raid was one of them." Opens her briefcase, takes out a large envelope, old paper, wax seal.
"You mean," I gasp, "I match the reading?"
"Indeed you do."
"You don't censor these Col?"
Easy laugh, "not at all. First, it would destroy the program's credibility. Second, everything changes so fast in the Middle East, that this envelope would be utterly worthless to an enemy agent. It's only worth is to its owner."
"Ah well that is"
"When reading, you'll have strange reactions. Lots of deja vu, sense you know something already but can't say from where. Also, a lot of your thoughts and attitudes will be indentical or almost so, lot of carryover. Once you've read this thoroughly, there will be no doubt in your mind."
"I'll do my best Col."
"Here's my card, if you need any advice. No reading on schoolnights, the fallout is sleeplessness and strange dreams."
As the Col's taxi pulls away, Mum says, "get to bed. I'll keep that til Saturday morning, just so you aren't tempted. Get your homework done Friday evening."
"I thought you didn't believe in this stuff?"
Quiet tone, "maybe when you're grown up, I'll tell you. I've seen lots of evidence. The Hasids are right, on this issue anyway."
(So ends Part Two; the blog could be inactive for several months as Part Three is prepared.)

Evelyn 8

Something unusual in Mum's tone causes me to pay attention to her phone conversation; usually I don't bother.
She hangs up, stares out the window a long minute, then in a voice not her own, from a million miles away, "it just happens one of the military attaches at the Isaeli Embassy in Ottawa is on a cross-country tour. It just happens she's spending several days at the naval base in Esquimalt. It just happens that tomorrow evening she's dropping in to visit."
This duly mystifies me. Of all the Jews she could choose to visit in Victoria, surely we'd rate dead last on anyone's list of priorities.
"A Col no less, and it just happens she wants to see me and you."
My level of mystification elevates a notch.
"So, time's a wasting, let's clean this sty."
Jawohl Fuhrer I think acidly, feeling I have already exhausted today's supply of patience on Brent.
"And for sure, tomorrow evening you wear the green floral dress."
If I were to ice her right now, surely any jury in the land would view it a justifiable homicide.
The taxi drops her off. Mum ushers her in, "say hello to the nice lady Evelyn, then run off and study."
Col smiles ingratiatingly, "perhaps Ms Landau, our phone conversation lacked in sufficient clarity. Your role is simply to be present, to satisfy yourself that I exert no undue influence. My conversation is with Evelyn."
My level of mystification goes out into orbit.

Evelyn 7

Monday morning I see something is bothering Sarah, wait til we're out her door, "I ah well I'm sorry. Didn't mean to cause all that."
She looks at me blankly, "what on earth are you talking about?"
I blush, "all that stuff with the dream."
"Oh, that. Heavens, that's the last thing on my mind. No apology needed."
"I see, so if I didn't freak you out, then who did?"
"You actually opened my eyes, but only in a roundabout way. After all and everything, I just couldn't sleep, everything from Hasids to loot swirling in mind. And because I didn't sleep, I learned something."
It starts to dawn, "you mean, your parents? And the Kleins?"
"By the time I went to bed, they had already drunk too much. They were noisy, I crept out to look. The bedroom door was closed, but I could still smell pot. Hear the unmistakable sounds of S&M. After all, I should know what a paddle sounds like."
We both laugh.
"Now that, I could shrug off. This is the Left Coast, every adult except your Mum and half the kids smoke up. And who doesn't do S&M nowadays? But they were - gasp - swapping."
"You mean, as in infidelity?"
Pulls a face, "even worse than that. The two guys together and the two women. Disgraceful!!"
"I just cannot imagine your Mum - good looking as she is - in bed with that fat swine. Are you sure?"
"Positive. You know, I'm not sure I ever want to grow up. Maybe wait a few years, then fling myself off Ogden Point."
My skin starts to crawl. "No, don't do that."
"Why not? Who are you to order me around?"
"Let's just say you might be a bad influence, tempt me to do the same."
"I detect in your tone, you've already given it thought."
I blush hotly, "ah yeah."
The silence hangs in the air for all eternity and then some, but probably only a minute and a half in real time.
She sighs, "ok, for you."
I heave an inward sigh of relief.
She gives a rueful smile, "time like this, I hate to bring this topic up."
I groan inwardly, sensing where she's headed.
"See Brent is getting bored with me, threatens to dump me if we don't get a little variety."
"Lemme guess, his idea of variety is me paddling one cheek and you the other."
She laughs easily, "amazing how you pick up clues."
"Forget it if he means all the time. But a one shot deal, why not? I can guarantee my side will be purple, he'll be sitting on one cheek in school for a week."
"No, you can't do that. For sure, he'd dump me, for you. Gotta swing ordinary."
"Oh ok, guess I could use practice, in the unlikely event I ever find a boyfriend."
"In fact, gonna ask you swing lighter than me, he'll appreciate me more after."
"You really do ask for a lot. Ok, so be it."
As we arrive at the school yard, Brent joins us, brazenly feels my right arm, sarcastic tone, "not much there."
Visions of multiple contusions, him sitting on a pillow for a month dance before my eyes. But a promise is a promise, so I smile sweetly and say nothing.
He leers, "time to start going to the gym." I shrug, knowing it's a crass effort to provoke me.
After school, I establish that yes I have lots of self-discipline and self-control. My desire to create total mayhem is overridden by my promise to Sarah. What can you do? Friends count for more than revenge. Besides, it's not like he's doing MY math for free, what does he deserve?

Evelyn 6

Mrs Klein turns to Mr, in a snarky tone, "how many times do I have to tell you, be more careful speaking in front of children? It's you got her all upset."
Sarah's Mum jumps in, "it wasn't like that at all, more likely something she ate." Feels my forehead, "come on Evelyn honey, best if you lie down a bit."
Once the grownups depart, Sarah says quietly, "talk about morons. You were perfectly cool with that story right up til the name came. Connects with your dream, doesn't it?"
I groan quietly, "I don't wanna talk about it."
"Fine, but later you do, else you and I aren't friends anymore."
I groan again, "ok, I give up. Last night, I found out what the court case was all about."
"You did??"
"I, or rather the man in the dream, was charged with being the reincarnation of that same Ariel Zilberman."
"What a joke! Only those braindead Hasids believe in that mumbo jumbo! No other Jews do."
"The rabbinical court sentenced me - or rather him - to death. The Supreme Court in Israel overturned this. First, the rabbinical court was exceeding its authority. Second, there is no scientific proof reincarnation even exists. Third, even if it does, there is no positive proof I was indeed that person. Fourth, even if I was that person, there are rules on double jeopardy. You cannot be punished twice for the same crime. Since the original Ariel was killed by Mossad, the crime has already been punished by Israeli authorities."
She laughs quietly, "well you must admit, it fits well with the rest of the dream. Explains why the Rabbi thought people would kill you, yet the cop viewed it as a joke."
"What is your view, Sarah?"
"Obvious, what mastermind criminal finance wizard owns a thousand in the bank? Mossad stole the money, pinned the blame on poor Ariel and he ran for his life, knowing the Haredim would shoot first and ask questions later. Why else would Mossad kill him so quick? Why not torture him for information first?"
"Could be."
More confident tone, "come on Evelyn, let's surf the historical site. Compare Mossad before and after the Big Bang."
Sure enough, they move up in the world. A lot. In fact, a very quantum leap. Easy to see why if you calculate likely investment return off that much capital.
"Hmm," I say, "think of that. All those black ops they found it hard to get financing for before."
"But still," she protests, "what stumps me is the reincarnation thing. How on earth could those stupid Hasids be so backwards?"
"More a group feels left out, more they cling together, less open to hearing majority views."
"Hold on a minute. Them I understand now, but you?? How is it you get that dream??"
"Ah yes, the $64 question."
"Unless of course you're secretly Hasid, never told me."
"Oh act your age."
We both laugh.
"Do you suppose," I start tentatively, "it wasn't just to get money for Mossad? Say the main motivation was to undermine the Haredim, destroy much of that draft dodging abiltity? If so, they had connivance from the very top. Prime Minister, Finance Minister, Defence Minister and anyone else needed to pull it off."
She grins, "let's surf back onto the historical site."
Reading the speeches of the high and mighty of that epoch, it becomes obvious that though the outrage is there, it definitely is not 600 million worth of outrage.
Playing the vid of the Prime Minister's speech makes it more apparent. This worthy is struggling to hold back laughter, all the while sounding "outraged".
Later we rejoin the adults, "Mr Klein", I ask, "could I ask you just one question on your book?"
Wide smile, "sure Evelyn."
"This person in the Caymans, what evidence shows him living either rich or poor?"
"Strangest thing, that is what the Cayman Police found hardest to deal with. How on earth does the owner of 600 million feel it necessary to work fulltime in a used book store and live in a tacky trailer worth $300 at best. But then, you know what they say about Jews and eccentricity."
"No, what do they say?"
Mrs Klein elbows Mr, "oh shuddup will you? She's way too young to hear Freudian stuff like that. Nother few years."
"Sorry Dear."
Mrs Klein smiles sweetly at me, "Evelyn honey, when you grow up, there isn't much choice. Either marry someone who drinks too much or reads too much. Either is a pain. Tell you what, once you grow up, you can have him and I'll go find a drinker."
This sets them all laughing.

Evelyn 5

Mum being on a union committee, she is scheduled for an all day meeting Saturday. I'm given the option of staying home alone or passing the day at Sarah's. No contest, I prefer the company.
We spend all morning out and about, walking Dallas Road (coastal scencery) and the breakwater, checking out the houseboats at Fisherman's Wharf. We aren't allowed to go to Beacon Hill Park without an adult as there are "pervs" there, but we can wander anywhere else in James Bay or downtown.
As we return to her place for lunch, the drizzle ("liquid sunshine" in slang here) turns to downpour, so our afternoon will be inside.
Mr and Mrs Klein have joined her parents for lunch. After lunch, our choice is going to watch TV or listen in to the adults. Again, no contest, Mr Klein is by far the most interesting person I've heard. He has read literally everything there is to read and it's always fun listening.
"So, you know what I've been reading? The big financial scandal, circa 2060."
"Oh, do tell," Sarah's Mum says, "I hear it's juicy."
With a wicked smile, Mr Klein begins, "they say the ultraOrthodox have never been the same since, never truly recovered. See it's like this, the huge population explosion in Haredim led to an increased demand for yeshiva (religious school) space. After all, it was that or be drafted into the IDF (Israeli Defence Force). Now these boyos were good arm twisters, knew how to play the Cabinet well. And so they were authorized space just outside of Ramallah, approximately one mile by three miles.
"And so they started in to fund raise. The exact plan would vary, depending on how much they could raise. As a minimum, three different yeshivas, a residence for bachelor students and a trailer park for families. Size of all this would of course depend.
"Of course there wasn't sufficient money in Israel itself, there never is. So, they prevailed upon contacts in Canada, the US, Britain and France to twist arms. The funds poured in, some 600 million shekels in all.
"Then, just as the serious building planning was starting, the Chief Financial Officer vanished. There was nada, zilch, not one shekel left in the bank. Eventually the finger pointed to the Cayman Islands. The culprit was found to be living there, and presumably banking there too.
"Now, it's never been proven that the culprit was killed by Mossad, but there certainly are lots of clues pointing that way. The author is about 99% certain, comparing the Method of Operation to other known Mossad hits.
"But then, the hit proved to be counter-productive. You see banking secrecy only depends on who wants to know. The US government put sufficient heat on the Cayman government, that the latter agreed to let the Israeli government send auditors to all Cayman banks. And, ta-da, zip, nada, zilch. Turns out the culprit owned an account of about a thousand dollars, no big transactions ever done in or out.
"To this day, no one knows where the culprit was banking, or who got the money."
Sarah's Dad smiles, "and just who was this person anyhow?"
"None other than Ariel Zilberman."
I feel myself suddenly going faint. I'm starting to sweat. Profusely as a matter of fact. Why? We-ell, it's connected to another clue I got in that strange dream.