ISO 3166

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We left Uri and Carla in a Brig hotel room after he stepped out of the Orient Express on which Najwa and Alexander were also traveling.

Back in Jerusalem, Aaron who has been notified about Uri's whereabouts from US intelligence, is now confronted by politician with a clear agenda.

In Bern, Carla has been pulled from the Nikitin files and is now being summoned by the Federal Counsel.

Uri is seeking extreme measures to elude all who are tracking him.


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The yellow striped red van carefully pulls back to dock at gate 17. Two Royal Mail employees—one leaning on his Pallet jack's handle, the other taking advantage of the open gate to smoke a cigarette—and a supervisor, wait for the driver to open the van's back door. Inside, a wooden box is securely strapped to a pallet.


A loud rumbling noise echoes throughout the facility as letters tumble inside a gigantic drum called the Segragator. The supervisor take pictures as the two employees cut the metal straps then dismantle the wooden box which has been lowered next to an oversize sorting table. The crews of experienced sorters which has been assembled by management for the unusual task are fascinated as they discover the rusty trunk. The supervisor moves in to lift the lid. The trunk is filled with letters, most of them intact.

One by one, the content of the trunk is carefully laid out on the table and each letter is photographed—recto/verso. The letters are then placed in a different section on the table according to their country code. As all mail should be destined to Australia—the sunken ship was bound for Melbourne—letters are sorted by addressers. The first section handles the UK and Europe excluding Russia; another, The United States and Canada; a third one, the rest of the Americas and Africa; a fourth one for Asia excluding Russia; and finally the fifth section for the ex-USSR and for countries which have disappeared.


The sorter responsible for section 5 pulls out a letter emanating from Königsberg, Prussia.

-Prussia! Isn't that Germany? Shouldn't it go to section 1.

-Well where in Prussia, could also be Poland, answers the sorter at section 1.

-Königsberg, sounds German to me...

-That's Kaliningrad. The Russians kept that parcel of land. Stays in your pile mate.


Now that all the mail has been sorted by global regions, each section labels its letters according to their new country code. The sorter at section 4 pulls one out.

-I got one here on that said Palestine, but with the Queen's face on the stamp.

-What city? asks the man at section 1, who seems to be the most knowledgeable.


-Avhayil? No idea. What's the name?

-Isabella Altaras, Avihayil Moshav, Avhayil, Palestine.

-Show me.

The man from section 1 hands the letter to the one from section 4 who reads out loud.

-Avihayil Moshav... That's like a Kibbutz. IL.


Aaron is mulling over his thoughts, standing by a window overlooking the Rose Park, when enters a man in his early forties.

-Mr. Hanin. Thanks for coming to meet me. Ben Zimmer, says the man as he shakes Aaron's hand.

-Pleasure to meet you.

-Can I get you something?

-No, that will good. I just had a quick lunch.

-Yes, sorry I couldn't free myself earlier, we had a Cabinet meeting. Please sit.

The two men sit in the office's lounge area.

-So, how can I help you, Mr. Zimmer.

-Well, let me go straight to the point. Uri Yatom, as I understand, one of your top men, has run Awol.

Aaron hesitates a moment.

-Well, unless he's hiding in the Old City, I don't know how the Minister in charge of Jerusalem could be concerned? If I may say.

-Well, in this particular case, I'll wear my other hat, as Minister of Diaspora, replies Ben.

Aaron looks skeptical.

-I understand that you might not wish to, and that you are not compelled to share the whereabouts of your operatives, but you might be interested to know where this is going, at least from our end. We're all working together after all.

Arron remains unmoved as Ben stands up to grab a file bearing the Knesset's logo.

-In a few weeks, a group a people, with all kinds of agendas, will get together to study what composes our population. As you might well understand, this will steer controversy within as well as outside of our borders.

Aaron grabs the document to look it over.

-Our administration, has a clear view on this and on the policies regarding Aliyah. Which is status quo, at least in terms of quotas! We have enough enemies at the gate, to start creating further dissension within.

-Ok, but I still don't understand how my agency or one of my operatives could be of any assistance or interest to you, or this future commission?

Ben sits back at his chair, pulls an electronic cigarette from his jacket's pocket and starts puffing.

-Are you familiar with the myth of the Khazars?

-Vaguely, I remember reading something about it.

-Well, it appears that our friend Uri has not only read something about it, but fully embraced the theory.

-What do you mean?

-We also have our network, independent of your services, based on civilians and charity groups...

-Yes, please cut to the chase, we are well aware of these networks...

Zimmer sounds a little annoyed by his guest's tone and adopts a patronizing one.

-Well, these networks, which you're apparently familiar with, have reported to us, that a man, fitting the profile of Mr. Yatom, has been digging deep into his family roots, sending all sorts of alarms...

Aaron cuts him off abruptly.

-You have a mole in Mossad!

-A mole? As I mentioned earlier Mr. Hanin, we're all working together on this and as far I understand, Mossad is part of this administration.

-We serve Israel, not a particular party or a particular policy. With all due respect, you are here today in this office, Mr. Zimmer, but tomorrow it'll be someone else, with a different agenda, but we'll still be at our post... We can't swing with the wind.

Zimmer leans forward, getting closer to Aaron.

-Listen Aaroon, we came to you because we know that you have your own grievances with the way things have been working at Mossad recently, and before changes are made, at the top, we want to make sure of who we want to work with...


Carla is sitting at her desk on an early Monday morning. Her boss, a woman in her late 50s, knocks at her door left ajar, then enters.

-Hi Carla... Good to see you back. How do you feel?

-Great. Thanks. Had a fantastic week and weekend. Feel like new.

-Listen, about Moscow... You know we'll have to talk about this.

-Yes, tell me when.

-Well, I'm not sure why but I'm not going to be involved. You will be called directly by the Palace, I believe later today.


-Yes and in the meantime, I have been asked to relieve you from the ZIB and all files related to Nikitin.

-Well, I was kind of expecting this... But just to know, who is this coming from?

-The Federal Counsel.

-Ok... So what should I do in the meantime...

-For the rest of the day, just maybe transfer everything you have and maybe write a short report.

-To who?

-To me for now.


Uri looks at the lights of Tarifa, Spain, as the cargo ship Атех on which he sails passes the straight into the Atlantic Ocean.


Uri sits at a makeshift picnic table set on deck of the ship. He wrote the first letter, C, but stares at the layers of clouds in search of inspiration. An Eastbound plane leaves a long trail in the sky. Uri starts writing.