“Uh-uh, Noble! We agreed that you stay here. If you were to approach him now, he’d run for the Tuscan hills. Trust me to convince Antonio, and then you can make your pitch. I’ll deliver him to you in an hour.”
“Max.”
“What is it now?”
“You’re in Italy,” he remarked with an impish smile.
“Okay, two hours, smartass. Now I have to shower and dress. And seeing as you’re a registered guest in this luxurious establishment, would you please go and get me a double espresso? But don’t let Antonio see you come and go from this room.”
“You win!” Noble knew Max possessed an unerring arsenal of persuasive talents and would sway Antonio. In full surrender, he planted a kiss on her forehead and left to fetch her coffee.
Max made her way to the bathroom and into the shower. When she stepped out to dry off, Noble called out, “I left your cup on the counter next to the sink.”
“Thank you!”
She sipped on her requisite caffeine fix between parts of her grooming ritual as she hurriedly dried her hair, dressed, and swiped on some lip gloss. Stepping back, she examined her appearance. Happily, the bruise on her forehead had begun to dissipate. This should satisfy Antonio, she mused.
When she walked into the room, Noble remarked, “Nice dress! Have I seen it before?”
“No, Stanton bought it.”
“Stanton!”
“My trip to Sarasota was supposed to be an overnighter. Plans obviously changed. Besides, I ripped my jeans when I fell and I needed a few clothes. No biggie.”
“Good thing he remembered your size—and your taste. Did he buy what’s under the dress as well?”
“Let it go. I’m seriously not in the mood.”
“Lighten up Max. It’s going to be a long day.”
Noble walked over to give her a farewell hug and was stunned by her returning a more forceful embrace, holding him close to her for several moments. He sensed it was a wordless acknowledgement that their relationship had reached the new apex. “Go get him tiger,” he murmured softly in her ear.
Without a word, Max pulled back and left the room, quickly closing the door behind her.
As he heard the door close, Noble reflected on a time when he was considered a conundrum. But Max takes the cake, he thought. Although, he felt blessed that on the rare occasion when Max’s hard shell revealed a slight crack she would let him see. I couldn’t love her any more than I do at this moment. Dear God, just let us get through this alive.
Chapter 32
THE PROPOSAL
Opting to leave the crutches behind, Max limped as elegantly as possible in her boot cast toward Antonio, who stood waiting. “Come sei bella. How beautiful you are,” Antonio gushed as he offered Max his arm. “Signorina, your taxi is waiting.”
Within minutes, the taxi drove down the paved road and into the center of the square, the heart of Gaiole. Thankfully, the driver took the liberty of driving them directly to the restaurant, a route legally permitted for only town officials. Under the circumstances he was willing to take the risk. Soon they approached Lo Sfizio di Bianchi, one of the local restaurants recommended by the hotel.
“Interno o fuori?” the woman asked as they walked up to the entrance.
“Would you prefer to sit inside or outside?” Antonio asked.
“Let’s sit over there.” Max pointed to a secluded table in the far corner of the outside terrace with two sides surrounded by hedges.
“Va bene,” the woman responded and walked them to the table. Soon two glasses of the customary prosecco appeared.
“Salute,” Antonio said, being the first to make the toast.
“Our conversation at lunch yesterday was fascinating, and you seemed extremely knowledgeable in the area of science.” Max’s first attempt to solicit more information from Antonio failed.
“Bella, there are more interesting topics to discuss than climate change. For example, this beautiful little village.” Antonio proceeded to rave about Gaiole, its ancient castles, fortified abbeys, and established wineries, among other local lore until their meals arrived.
Max succumbed and quite enjoyed their pleasant conversation that covered the gamut. But it was getting late and she could stall no longer. However, at that moment the server interrupted and asked if they wanted dolci. They both refused the sweet ending and opted instead for a grappa. So, once the server poured their digestivo and left them alone—a different conversation began.
“Antonio, I haven’t been completely open with you.”
“Yes, Max, I’m listening.” Antonio replied, sipping his grappa, not seeming overly concerned.
“I’m a private investigator and I’m here to follow up on a lead.”
Antonio recoiled, but he still seemed intent on hearing her out. “And why are you telling me this?”
Max reached over and touched Antonio’s hand, sensing he may try to bolt. Evidently her gesture put a spark in his eye. She hoped it would not turn into a flame. She took it slow. “I’m investigating the death of Senator Sherman Spark. And the deaths of three scientists by the names of Claus Veunet, Luca Doerfinger, and Jonas von Boehmer, who were scheduled to testify before a committee Spark co-chaired that focused on climate-change initiatives.”
He forcefully jerked his hand back. His face filled with instant anger. And even though he appeared to be ready to exit at any moment, he remained seated.
Max stayed on alert as she proceeded. “We don’t believe it was a coincidence that all three men were killed before they had the opportunity to testify. Or that Senator Spark’s death was unrelated.”
Antonio’s face lost its expression. Evidently he was not going to make it easy for her, especially on the off chance she did not know his true identity.
“Antonio Maieli, you are the fourth scientist.” Max saw him flinch. She waited for the backlash.
“You knew all along? You lied to me!” He stopped. His eyes projected the predictable fire.
“I just reordered the truth. But putting that aside, we need your help. We need to know the reasons surrounding your friends’ deaths. We need to know about the testimonies.”
“You can’t be serious. I’d be signing my death warrant.” He was adamant.
“Antonio, there is someone I want you to meet before you make any decisions. Please hear him out. He’s someone who can offer you iron-clad protection.”
“No one can protect me.”
“That protection comes by way of the President of the United States.”
Antonio stared into Max’s eyes, trying to calculate her sincerity. “Who’s this person you want me to meet?” He refused to give a hint of whether he would capitulate.
“His name is Noble Bishop. He’s the director of the States Intelligence Agency. And he’s here on direct orders from the President.”
“Here—where?” Antonio asked, still showing no sign of emotion.
“In my hotel room, waiting to speak with you.”
Suddenly, Antonio’s facade cracked. “Is he your emotional problem?” he chided, acting like a jilted lover.
At times, Max thought, but simply offered a slight smile. She continued in a more serious tone, one he had not yet heard. “Antonio, you can hate me, but you’ll soon learn that Noble and I are your best chance for your safety and freedom. Hear us out before you decide. Now let’s return to the hotel and discuss your future.”
Antonio hesitated, contemplating his options. None presented themselves for the moment. He motioned for the check. Promptly, the server returned and handed him a slip of paper. Without speaking a word, he tossed the required euros on the table and then stood up to help Max out of her chair.
So far, so good, she thought, exhaling her pent-up tension.
The taxi was waiting as promised and quickly sped them up the hill to Capannelle.
Chapter 33
THE DEALMAKER
Noble heard their voices as they entered the living room. He shot up from the chair a
nd stood next to the bed.
Max and Antonio entered the room together.
“Signore Maieli, I presume,” Noble said as he walked over to shake Antonio’s sweaty palm. His nervous grip was obvious. Noble tried to relieve the strain without further fanfare. “I’ve been asked by the President of the United States to find you and keep you safe. I’m pleased to see I’m not too late.”
“Not as pleased as I am—that it’s not too late, I mean,” Antonio wisecracked, trying to stave off the tension.
“Would you care to see my credentials?” Noble had hoped to further relieve any lingering concerns Antonio may have had.
“I’m well aware of your reputation, sir.” Antonio’s passive response masked the fact that he was momentarily juggling reality. Then it hit him. Seeing the director and Max in the same room, he finally put it together. He turned toward Max. “You were his deputy director? Mama mia, I read about your resignation but I never deciphered the connection—shame on me.”
Max said nothing.
Noble ignored Antonio’s revelation in lieu of moving the discussion along. “Please take a seat.” He signaled Antonio to sit in the chair against the wall. Noble sat in the chair next to the bed.
Max had already taken her place on the side of the bed and was prepared for the first question, one that had plagued her. “Antonio, I’m curious as to why you didn’t change your first name as you did with your last?”
“What’s the point? Antonio is like Alessandro or Massimo. There are millions of us running around,” he droned sardonically. “Besides, I’d be less likely to make a mistake.”
“Except when someone calls you by your last name.” Antonio remembered flinching when Max addressed him by his surname. “Touché. I guess I’m not so clever.” He grinned, seeming more relaxed.
Noble sensed it was time to step in and close the deal. “Max has already informed you that we need to know the details of the testimonies your friends were to give before the Committee on Climate Change Initiatives. We need to understand what was so damning to cause their deaths. You will also need to describe your involvement to provide authenticity. Your testimony will be videotaped.”
“I already told Max I’d be signing my death warrant. But videotaped—no way!”
“Antonio, if you value your life, I suggest you take the offer.” It was time for Noble to sweeten the pot. “If you do this, you will be provided with a new identity, money, and safe passage to wherever you wish to go—all courtesy of the US government.”
Max quickly added, “Other than Noble and I, only the president will be aware of your identity. Bear in mind: Antonio Maieli will cease to exist.” Just as I did, she thought.
Max and Noble maintained their vigil and waited for Antonio’s reaction—but surprisingly, none came. They both found him extremely difficult to read.
“Antonio!” Max said harshly and then toned it down a notch. “This is the one and only chance you’ll have for a new beginning. Otherwise, you’ll be spending the rest of your life looking over your shoulder. Take this opportunity! I guarantee you the president will make good on his promise.”
Antonio’s face was bereft of emotion until he reluctantly nodded his head. He had tacitly agreed to take the deal. “I’m listening.”
They took it slow, chatting up a series of germane questions in an attempt to ensure Antonio’s personal data was valid before jeopardizing the president’s position. Then, after a few hours, and mildly satisfied, Max decided to dig deeper.
“We know that Jonas took a leave of absence to work on a special project with a group of scientists. Did that include Claus, Luca, and you?”
Antonio instantly clammed up and became a bit mumpish.
That went well, she thought and tried again. “Antonio, we know that all of you attended the same university in Switzerland, and somehow you all got back together?”
“Yes!” he blurted out, becoming exasperated by the questioning, but then quickly calmed down reasoning it would be even worse during the videotaping. “We all attended École. But our scientific interests took us in different directions. Only Claus focused on climatology at the time. It wasn’t until years later that we somehow found ourselves embroiled in a controversy.”
“What controversy?” Noble asked.
This time Antonio appeared more willing to reveal portions of what he knew. “It started after the Climategate scandal when the CRU reported that the climate data initially showed that the temperatures were cooling, not warming. Phil Jones, the director of the CRU at the time, instructed Claus’ team to add real temperatures to each of the groupings since 1981 and then hide the decline that had occurred since 1961.”
“That doesn’t sound like standard protocol?”
“Absolutely not! All scientific exploration is based on a hypothesis and utilizing a method where it can be tested. In CRU’s case maybe it wasn’t rocket science, but it certainly wasn’t climate science either. What’s so bizarre is that even after the scandal broke, some of the top world scientists supported the original false hypothesis that had been invalidated and continued to use it as their guiding premise. No one thought to disprove CRU’s phony report because it had already been sanctioned by the United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Control and accepted as gospel.” Antonio was fired up.
Max and Noble were pleased.
“Then Claus received an email.”
“From Phil Jones?” Max asked.
“No, after the scandal Jones had been moved aside into a newly created role as Director of Research, reportedly not a demotion, just a reduction in administrative duties to concentrate on research. The only public criticism noted in the media was that the CRU had not ‘embraced the spirit of openness,’ whatever that means. But Jones certainly embraced it later. I understand he publicly conceded that global warming may not be a man-made phenomenon after all.” Antonio was obviously not pleased with the outcome. He continued in the same fiery manner. “That prediction alone sent the IPCC scurrying to Stockholm in September of that year for a pre-summit session. They published their fifth assessment report the following month. The report continued to substantiate their earlier findings that humans were the cause of global warming, although the succeeding reports they issued were rather evasive and lacking statistics. The IPCC stated that after adjusting the computer climate models to measure more accurately the increase in CO2, additional years of testing would be required before issuing conclusive evidence of global warming. And according to Claus, the numbers they used were fabricated.”
Max reeled him in. “Antonio, let’s get back to the email. What was in it?”
“It was a directive that all deniers of global warming be excluded from the IPCC process, that any examination of the IPCC reports be restricted, and strict control over the peer-review process be maintained to prevent any deniers from being published in scientific journals. The email circulated throughout the scientific community, including thousands of scientists who volunteer their expertise to the IPCC. It was meant not only to add peer pressure but also as a warning to the recipients. Claus was furious at the implications and that’s when he met privately with Luca and Jonas to seek their advice.”
“Why didn’t Claus seek your advice?”
“I was working for NASA in a totally unrelated field, so they didn’t involve me at that time.”
Max recalled the scribbling on the back of the photo with Antonio’s initials. She quickly retrieved the photo from her smartphone and flashed it at Antonio. “What can you tell us about this?”
Temp(year) – Temp(1850) < 1.8{Log[CO2(year)/CO2(1850)]/Log[2]} deg C
“It’s one of many formulae used to challenge the computer-driven climate models. That equation happens to compute only the GMST, the Global Mean Surface Temperatures.” Antonio appeared to be nonplussed as the explanation rolled off his tongue. “It describes the actual data trends of the last 165 years of global temperature change that bounds the net warming effects of CO2, other g
reenhouse gases, and aerosols in our atmosphere that can be used to forecast maximum possible anthropogenic-global-warming temperature rise for the future.”
“Why was it scribbled on the back of a photo next to your initials found in Senator Spark’s family photo album?”
Antonio turned ashen. “Evidently,” he said after a brief pause, “it was his way of connecting me to the others and their activities. Look—I said I wasn’t involved at the time. The full explanation will have to come later. Sorry; you’ll just have to wait.”
Max looked at Noble. She sensed that he had picked up on the defensive retort. She also assumed he was as curious as she was as to how Antonio eventually became mixed up in the affair. But for the moment she had a more pressing question. “If Phil Jones didn’t send the email, who did?”
Somehow that question put out Antonio’s fire. He withdrew into a nonresponsive mode.
“Okay, let’s talk about the actual testimony. What did Senator Spark want the committee to hear?” Max probed, trying a different tack.
For the next hour, Antonio reluctantly responded with brief answers, until he pronounced, “Sono stanco! I’m tired! That’s all you get out of me until tomorrow. Finito!”
Nothing he revealed was earth-shattering enough to cost the lives of so many, but the little they heard shocked them. It provided enough assurance that there was treachery afoot and that he would be forthcoming during the videotaping. Regrettably, they would have to comply with Antonio’s demands and wait.
From the window they could see that the sun was about to set on the horizon. It provided the perfect opportunity for a timeout. Simultaneously, Max’s insatiable appetite had reappeared. “Let’s take a short break and get something to eat,” she suggested.
Fortunately, Noble was able to sweet-talk Valentina into preparing dinner for the three of them. So while they sat straddling plates of pasta on their laps, reaching periodically for their glasses of wine, they switched the conversation to lighter topics. Then Noble tried again.
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