Twenty-Nine Cozy Bears

40

Tehran, Iran -- The man's apartment

The Major closed and locked the door behind them, and then shot a hard look at Alek, who shrugged and began helping with the food.

"I was watching over you," Alek said, "the door was secure." He shrugged and made a face as a engine raced loudly down a nearby street.

Alek was sure to be armed. Though the man could not spot where the weapon was on him. Then he surmised it was now stuffed in the over stuffed chair.

Lunch was set out where people laid or sat on the floor. It was very informal and comfortable. Wholesome was the word he was looking for. Plates and bowls of dishes were passed to each other, the scents of saffron and paprika, kebabs and chelo with chicken — all tantalized the nose and appetite. Garlics, and butter. Perfect tahchin.

"You are quite safe, by the way," Sara told them. "There are several Quds out there on the street, making themselves invisible by posing as mechanics and landscape workers. They are protecting this place, and the other two as well as the library. Other IRGC are patrolling in uniform around the campus so it doesn't look like they are focused on this area alone. After all, If your enemies don't know where you are, we don't want to tell them."

"Sounds good. Apologies for being such a burden," the man returned. "Maybe we can be of some assistance however."

"You mean by using your missing-person skills to find these terrorists?" Sara asked, and Narges' interest piqued with her eyebrows rising.

"What is this?" Narges asked.

"It started before our time," Alek told her. "Some time in the early 2000s. Anyway, some hackers found use for the image matching technology that was just coming out then. Digital camera were all new, and they started popping up on the Internet. Then cities started using them. Traffic cameras, security, slice of life."

"Slice of life?" Sara asked.

"Yes. People put these Internet cameras in their homes, in every room so that the world could watch them. Like a reality show only it was their reality," Alek explained. "There are still people who do it, I'm sure."

"They do this on purpose? So everyone can watch them live?" Sara asked, and it was difficult to decide if she were amazed or horrified or perhaps just aghast.

"The point," the man said, interrupting, "is there is a ton of useful data out there. Terabytes that can be sifted through and leads can be found. Some of it is more helpful than others. But the people who search for missing persons are overwhelmed and under short budgets."

"As hackers," Alek continued, "we understand data, and searches. It is our basic skillset. In many cases we have access to tools and programs that the regular police and functionaries do not posses. Maybe they can not afford them or maybe they don't know how to use them. It does not matter. We do. So, many hackers have dedicated some of their off time for searching for those who are missing."

"And so," Narges said, "you want to use these same skills in looking for these terrorists. Except how do we know who we are looking for? Don't you need a description of some type to search for people."

"It is far easier," the man admitted. "And we have some descriptions, and I'm going to send a message to ask permission to utilize some of our company files on known aggressors of Iran."

"We have files of that type," Narges said. "Perhaps we should ask as well?"

The man had kept his eye on Sara. Nothing obvious, just monitoring her emotions, because she became quite agitated when discussing this subject before. If she was upset or tense about it now, however, he could not spec. "We have a huge apparatus already mapped out," he said. "We have databases of refined and focused camera IP addresses, terabytes of focused images, that have been cleaned and enhanced to make facial recognition easier for the AIs..." he sighed, and then grinned, "now that I think about it, it has become a monster."

"It should be a monster," Alek told him, slipping into Russian. "We have been adding to it for a long time. And we inherited a monster from the ones be for us. Da? Of course it is a monster."

"If it is helping people, then be proud of your monster," Sara said with a soft even voice, in Russian.

The man looked around turning his head left then right. The others noted his alert state and their backs straightened, hands flexed, ready to reach for near by weapons.

"Wow —" the man said, working his jaw now, "that was like, like my ears popped. Like when you go too high? You yawn? Pop the ears. It was just like that." He smiled wildly.

The others looked from one to the other. They silently asked each other for insight. Meaning. Then Sara's eyes widened, "Hearing your own language?"

"Yes, da! That was strange. Never happened before. Maybe a gypsy curse," he said, and chuckled a laugh low in his throat.

"I keep telling you," Alek said, his voice low and his eyes down, "stop with the gypsy thing. Not wise."

The man laughed. Bending forward to hide his face, holding up his hand, "No, I do not mean..." he stilled. For a moment he did not move at all, and then with an inhale he rose up to sitting position again. Expressionless, he said, "Excuse me. A personal joke, and not for human consumption."

She laughed. During that conversation she smiled and laughed. And the ache of the cherry blossom fell on his heart. But he would hear her again. She shared the field with him. As equal. Held her ground. Did not run out the back. 

 He needed to hear her laugh. 

 Before we are enemies again...