Sea of Greed

“For that, you have my apologies,” the Admiral said. “At any rate, with success comes greed. And the partner of greed is fear.”

“From the French side,” Rudi presumed.

Natal nodded. “By then, France was becoming dependent on Arab oil. And, as a result, becoming less and less interested in a friendship with Israel. After the early success, they demanded that we work on a method to kill the bacteria. The very antidote you’ve come to ask about.”

“And?”

“It was developed,” the Admiral insisted, “and its creation and successful testing brought a quick end to things on Jaros. As soon as the counteragent had been proven to work, a chill descended over the island. Our people realized that the weapon itself would be useless if the French could counteract it, while the French realized that we might wish to destroy the counteragent or to take complete control of it ourselves. Ultimately, they acted before we did, taking everything they could carry and destroying the rest.”

“The facts don’t support that,” Rudi said. “If the French took everything, how did the oil destroyer and a group of French sailors end up on the Dakar at the bottom of the Mediterranean?”

“I said they took it. I didn’t say they got it home. The French sent a submarine to Jaros with a squad of heavily armed commandos on board. They massacred most of our scientific staff and took everything they could carry. They destroyed what remained with explosives and kerosene. All the equipment, all the records. Everything.”

The Admiral took a breath and continued. “We learned of the treachery within twelve hours, but it was too late to give chase. The French were out of range the moment they left the island. With several hundred miles between them and our nearest warship, we could neither stop them nor threaten them. They were home free… Or so they thought.”

Rudi was starting to see the picture. “But the Dakar was coming in from the other direction. From the UK via Gibraltar. It was in position to cut them off.”

“It was,” Natal admitted. “We ordered it to intercept the French boat and spent the next several days broadcasting fake position reports while maneuvering the Dakar to a station between the French sub and their home port.”

“How did you know where to wait?”

“We suspected their vessel would make for the submarine base at Toulon. It was a calculated risk, but it made the most sense. Now all we had to do was wait. For the next two days, a debate raged at the highest levels of government as to whether we should sink the French submarine or not. Some felt that that would be an act of war and that we should avoid antagonizing the French. Others pointed out that the murder of Israeli scientists and the theft of our labor was already an act of war.

“Finally, one voice clarified things for everyone, pointing out that while the French were unlikely to go to war with us over something they would have a hard time explaining to the rest of the world, history suggested that the Arabs would most certainly attack us again in due time. That being the case, it meant that neither the submarine nor the scientists’ lives nor relations with France were as relevant to Israel as the research material itself. The bacterial cultures and genetic codes were what mattered. Destroying the French submarine would be a wasteful act. Allowing it to reach France would be an act of cowardice. We needed to get the materials back and there was only one way to do that. The crew of the Dakar had to stop the French submarine without sinking it, boarding the vessel once it surfaced and taking it by force.”

Rudi could scarcely believe what he was hearing. “Is that what happened?”

“That’s how it began,” the Admiral said, handing over the second of the sealed envelopes. “Read for yourself, you’ll see how it ended.”

Rudi opened the envelope and found that it contained dispatches from the INS Dakar.