“Those issues don’t fall in our bailiwick, aside from playing a supporting role with the other agencies. The team is intact. But if anything arises on an urgent basis and you need to contact me, leave me a voice message on my cell or send me a text. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. In either case, use the secure line or encode the text.”
“I don’t understand why all the cloak and dagger?” Max grilled.
“I assume if it’s an emergency, then it’s agency business and should be conducted on a secure line. Simple as that.”
Max was sparring for further repartee.
Noble evaded the opportunity. “I wouldn’t leave you in charge if I didn’t have full confidence in your ability. How many times do I have to assure you? You’ve proven yourself time and time again.”
“By the way, what does POTUS think about you leaving?”
“He’s on board and has complete confidence in your ability as well.”
“Buttering me up doesn’t help.” She was, by design, trying to make it difficult for him to leave, although she knew she’d already lost the fight.
Noble stood up from his chair, startling Max before she had an opportunity to grill him further. It was a clear signal to end the inquisition. “Don’t make this any harder on me,” he implored, deciding to use pity as a weapon.
Max stood up to face him head-on. “You win,” she conceded, and then worked up a disingenuous smile.
Noble disregarded her unwilling surrender and reached over to give her a gentle hug. “Thanks Max,” he whispered. Then, in an atypical manner, he maintained the embrace for a moment longer.
Surprised by herself, she returned the hug willingly. But at that same moment, her mind swirled with fleeting thoughts. This is more serious than he’s letting on was the most prevalent. The uneasiness persisted; she knew something was horribly wrong.
Just then, Noble pulled back and clasped his hands around her shoulders.
Their eyes met.
“Everything will be okay, Max,” he said as though he had read her mind. Again he tried to reassure her. “Everything will work out. You’re the boss now.”
Not knowing how to react in that split second of intimacy, she turned away and walked out of the conference room, before saying something she might regret.
Noble watched her leave. He knew he had handled it badly. She doesn’t believe me for a minute.
Max returned to her office and closed the door behind her. Leaning back against it, as though she were bracing for an intruder, she played the scene of their embrace over and over in her mind, still surprised at herself for not resisting. One thing she could not deny was that something odd and inexplicable had just happened. Though unsure of her personal feelings, she couldn’t help but ponder, The one thing I am sure of—is that you’re not leveling with me. “I’m worried about you Noble,” she muttered to herself.
10
BAD TIMING
The bartender spotted Max out of the corner of his eye and signaled her in the direction of the booth in the corner. As she approached the table she was stunned. “What’s going on?” She couldn’t help but notice the bouquet of flowers off to one side and the candle in the center.
“I wanted to do something extra nice for you, sweetheart.” Stanton stood up and embraced her, and then followed up with a sensual kiss. All the while, he thought, Tonight’s the night.
All the while Max thought, Oh, please don’t let this happen. The flowers smell like a proposal. She pulled back gently and assumed her position in the booth across from him. Working up a smile, she remarked, “They’re beautiful. Thank you,” and then she thought There’s no way in hell I’ll ask what the special occasion is.
Stanton, still with an inviting look in his eyes, reached across the table and held her hand.
Max kept her cool as she tried to turn off his afterburners and looked for a diversion. “Noble just left me at the helm,” she blurted out. “He’s decided to take some time off to contemplate his navel, so he left me in charge.”
Stanton, not pleased with the subject matter nor her timing, played along as though he had no clue as to what she was talking about. “Where’s he going?”
“He’s taking a temporary leave of absence. And I don’t need this headache right now.”
“Hon, you could do the job blindfolded while standing on your head. You’re as tough as Noble—maybe even tougher. You’ll step up to the plate.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but Noble already tried that approach. And with all the problems out there, his timing sucks. Besides, we’ve always worked together. He’s the one I count on to bounce off my hunches and wild speculations—as he does with me. We keep each other grounded. You know me; I’m not the administrative type!” Max continued to lay out her concerns with her being elevated to the new position of director, despite its being temporary.
Stanton listened as she groused on, but could not help thinking, What’s going on with her?
Abruptly, she stopped short.
“Max, what’s wrong?” His annoyance turned to concern.
“See that guy sitting at the table over there? The one in the blue suit?”
“Yeah, so what?”
“His profile is identical to the guy in the hoodie that keeps coming into the Blackfinn.”
“How do you know? You couldn’t even see the face of your suspicious stalker—you don’t even know if the person in the hoodie is a guy.” Stanton let out a frustrating breath. “You want me to go talk to him?”
“And say what?”
“I’ll tell him that I’m in love with a crazy lady who thinks he’s a stalker, but is usually dressed in a hoodie with dark glasses. Then I’ll compliment him on his elegant taste in clothing for this evening.”
Max recognized how ridiculous the ploy sounded. She remained silent and gazed back at Stanton as she mused, He’s intelligent, handsome, witty, and the sex is great. Why can’t I commit to him? Without a doubt he’s drool-worthy. Her mouth curled upward at the thought.
Stanton took note. “Sweetie, I’m really worried about you.”
“Can we change the subject, please?” Max regretted that she had ruined the evening, but she was unnerved. She was being stalked; Noble had deserted her; and now she feared that Stanton was going to propose. She did love him, but for the time being she couldn’t succumb to his wishes. She was sure of one thing: If he had popped the question, she would have said “no” and risked losing him in the process. That she’d try to avoid at all costs. Their relationship was far beyond platonic, but she was not ready to waltz down the aisle just yet.
Stanton picked up on the vibes and had already determined that tonight was not in the cards. So he tried to switch the tenor of the evening around and enjoy what remained. He reached over to refill her wine glass and tried to change the conversation. “Have you been watching season five of House of Cards?”
“You know I haven’t had the time.”
“Well, their depiction of the Secret Service is overly glamorized. I should be so lucky for such a job. Instead we’ve all been tainted by the ‘Pierson’ Syndrome.”
Max knew that, for the past several years, all the agents were being second-guessed as to their effectiveness. It all began when Julia Pierson, the head of the Secret Service, stepped down under duress for flagrant incompetence.
“You’re one of the good guys and everyone knows you would lay down your life for the president.” She eased up and her smile of old appeared. “No more shop talk,” she commanded, as she too attempted to salvage the evening. The repartee took an abrupt change and moved to small talk, with an occasional affectionate gesture.
As it became apparent that Max had returned to some vestige of herself, Stanton managed to restore some romance in the air—minus the planned proposal. After he paid the check, they left the restaurant and walked in the direction of her apartment. Strolling arm-in-arm, they’d stop along the way for a penetrating kiss. Once they arrived, Stanton was
pleasantly surprised by her invitation for him to stay the night.
11
PLAYING BIG BROTHER
Noble had a final call to make before going out of cell range. It would also reduce the chances that Natalie would try to contact him, at least for the next few weeks. It was ten o’clock a.m.—a good time to catch her.
“Noble, mama mia, what a pleasant surprise,” replied the energetic voice from four thousand miles away.
“Practicing your Italian, Nat?” Noble chuckled.
“Slow going, even with Mario’s help,” she groaned.
“I’m sure you two are having a grand time running around the streets of Florence, but I thought I’d check in and see how you’re doing.”
“We’re having a marvelous time thanks to you.” She sputtered on, “The other day we had lunch at Osteria da Ganino, Alessandro’s new restaurant. He sends his best. He was wonderful and arranged for his son Simone to take us on a tour—and, oh, we met Eugenio…”
“Nat, slow down. You may be having a problem with the Italian language, but not with the rapid-fire pace.”
“Sorry; it has just been so exciting.” In a calmer manner, Natalie described how Simone had met them the following day in front of the Duomo. “First, we took a tour through the Baptistry of Saint John and then walked around the outside to admire the Gates of Paradise. Earlier, I had read to Mario about Ghiberti and his bronze doors, so it was wonderful to see them up close.” She knew she was still jabbering away and expected some rebuff from Noble. “Are you listening?” she challenged.
“Rattle on. I find this all fascinating.”
“Don’t humor me. Anyway, thanks to Simone, who had already arranged for the tickets earlier, we were able to breeze past the lines and walk right into the Duomo. Noble, when we looked up into the dome, its enormity took our breath away.”
“Did Simone tell you the story of the dome?”
“Oh yes, and Mario couldn’t believe that the church had been without a roof for over a hundred years. You should have seen his face when Simone explained in great detail how Brunelleschi constructed the dome. Just imagine a building requiring a 150-foot-wide structure to be assembled 180 feet in the air. Mario found it fascinating to learn that Brunelleschi, who was a goldsmith by trade, had lost the commission to create the bronze doors for the Baptistery to his rival Ghiberti, but won the contest to build the roof. Even today, no architect or engineer can say for sure how the dome was built. But of course, Mario wanted to try to figure it out. I think we may have a little architect in the making, Uncle Noble.”
“Wonderful. Anything but the spy business,” he joked. All kidding aside, he was pleased that Natalie and Mario were enjoying themselves, and by the same token, pleased that she no longer seemed to be annoyed with him. He indulged her a while longer, urging her to continue. “Did you see the David?”
“Of course Simone took us to see Michelangelo’s brilliant sculpture. You know the original is at the Accademia di Belle Arti? Florence’s Academy of Fine Arts.”
“Yes, they restored the statue several years ago. When I was there it had just been made available for public viewing.”
“Then you must have experienced the overwhelming feeling when you stare up at the David. It makes you feel insignificant and small. Nothing in any of the guidebooks, or in any of the photos I have seen, prepared me for a sculpture to come alive. Am I boring you, dear brother?”
“No. But as I listen to you, it’s reviving the fondness I feel for Florence.”
“And the special memories of Hamilton?”
“Of course. Where did you venture next?”
“We walked back through the glorious Piazza Signoria, with Simone describing all of the statues. He had a bit of difficulty answering Mario’s incessant questions about the Rape of Sabine.”
“That’s my nephew,” Noble chuckled. “I hope he explained that rape meant abduction and it was the way men found wives in ancient Roman times.”
“Yes, Simone handled it quite appropriately. Then he dropped us off at Birreria Centrale for lunch. Alessandro wasn’t working at Ganino, but Elena was as wonderful and we had another delightful Tuscan lunch.”
“You mentioned Eugenio was taking you on a tour of the Vasari Corridor.”
“Yes, he picked us up at the restaurant.” Natalie continued to wax on and describe how they weaved through the hallways of the famous corridor, considered to be one of the most astounding architectural masterpieces of the Renaissance.
While Noble half-listened, he wondered why he was feeling slightly homesick for a place where he had spent so little time. Whatever the reason, he began to reminisce about his time with Hamilton.
Noting his silence, Natalie asked, “Did you know it was built in 1565, in just six months, for the Medici family?”
He caught her question, and droned, “Yes, I remember that little fact.”
Ignoring his apparent inattentiveness, she continued. “Cosimo I of the Medici family commissioned Giorgio Vasari, the brilliant architect of the time, to construct a covered passageway. It leads from the Uffizi, which is his place of work, across the Lungarno degli Archbusieri and continues along the north bank of the Arno River. Then the corridor crosses over the top of the famous Ponte Vecchio Bridge, meanders across the peaks of houses, and through their private church the Chiesa di Santa Felicita. Finally, it ends at the Palazzo Pitti, the final home of the Medici family.”
“Nat, are you reading from the guidebook?” Noble teased.
“Sort of,” she admitted.
Noble continued to egg her on. “Did you know that Cosimo I did not want to have to fight his way through the crowds nor tolerate the smells emanating from the butcher’s establishments located on the bridge? That’s why they removed the butcher shops and replaced them with goldsmith shops, which remain there to this day.”
“And what are you reading from?” Natalie inquired.
Noble chuckled. “I just remember some of stories that Hamilton told me when I visited.”
“Be serious, Noble. It was amazing to walk through the corridor and to be able to see hundreds of portraits and paintings dating back to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It was an incredible experience. You should have seen Mario. He was so curious and it seemed as though he had asked zillions of questions. Eugenio was so patient with him.”
“That’s wonderful. It’s a great experience for a young boy, especially Mario, who is so inquisitive.”
“You know, Noble, at times I felt like we were tracing Hamilton’s footsteps, while he was in hot pursuit of Simon. It was delicious fun!”
Noble listened as though the attempted capture of Simon had happened yesterday; bringing to mind the day Hamilton had called him from Florence to describe how the sting operation had failed. He could still remember hearing the heartbreak in Hamilton’s voice when he admitted that Simon had escaped the trap. Lost in thought, it took him a moment to realize that Natalie was still rattling on.
“Both Simone and Eugenio were princes. They gave of their time and we felt privileged to have had an inside peek at their amazing city. They both send their best.”
“Send them mine as well. Well, it sounds like you’ve had a great time,” he said, ready to sign off. “Natalie…” Damn delay in these international calls, he thought, as it just robbed him from the opportunity to end the travelogue.
Natalie, oblivious, continued, “The next day, we walked through the city and found the other places Hamilton described to you. We went to the Perini Gastronomia in the Central Market. The entire team of Andrea, Moreno, Flavio, and Simone were amazing. Oops, I can’t forget Sania and Yvonne. What a real treat.” For the next few minutes, Natalie went on to describe in infinite detail the panino they made for Mario. “You should have seen his eyes light up when Andrea handed it to him. By the way, isn’t that where Hamilton went for lunch while he was stalking Simon?”
“Yes, it was another one of the haunts,” he grumbled.
�
��What’s wrong?”
“Nat, you know I love Paolo like a brother, but I still hold some residual resentment that he involved you. Whatever possessed him?”
“The fact that I am his wife!” Natalie never understood why Noble had difficulty grasping the concept. But she chose not to belabor the point and instead offered some sisterly advice. “We’ve managed to work through the bad times and put it behind us in the family history books. It’s now time for you to let it go. Besides, you’re the one that told me Hamilton’s story,” she complained.
Natalie was the only outsider that was aware of the convergence of events that brought down Abner Baari. When it happened, Noble believed it was important for both Paolo and Natalie to know Simon had escaped and why they needed to be vigilant. Had Paolo not confided in his wife before confessing to Noble, it would not have been necessary to alert her. Part of Paolo’s immunity agreement then had to include Natalie’s silence.
“By the way, have you spoken to Paolo? I haven’t been able to reach him and he is not returning my calls,” Natalie asked, somewhat concerned.
“Not recently, but I’ll try to track him down and have him give you a call.” Noble decided that it was time to get off the subject. “When do you leave for San Marino?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. We’re taking the 1:40 train to Rimini. Enzo will be picking us up at the station. I’ll call you when we arrive.”
“That’s okay. I’ll check in with Enzo. For now, you two have a great time. Give my love to Mario, along with a hug.”
“I will Noble. And thank you again for making it such a special time for us. I love you. And if you can find him, give my husband an extra big hug from me and Mario.”
“Love you too Nat. Talk to you later.”
12
THE ASSIGNMENT
Noble had entered the underground facility on several occasions, but he was still in awe at the enormity of the complex and all of its technological treasures. Now, after passing through several security checkpoints, he had one last step before reaching his final destination, to pass the retina scan. He leaned in toward the metal grid, making contact with the camera lens, and then pulled back as he watched the metal doors part.
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