Noble succumbed without protest. He removed the scarf from his neck and handed it to her, along with his jacket. Then he retrieved his luggage and briefcase from the hallway and dropped them in the foyer. Soon after, he followed her footsteps into the living room.
“Here, this will help you unwind.”
Amanda’s smile began to soothe him even before she handed him the stem glass. She was the perfect cure. After a few sips of wine, Noble truly began to feel more at ease. Then, moments after he sat down on the sofa and relaxed against the cushion, he was forced to answer the inevitable questions: “Yes, the trip was fine. No, I can’t discuss the details of the case. Yes, Max is doing well. No, I don’t plan to return to France anytime soon.” Eventually, he was able to fashion his own set of questions. “What’s been happening at your office?” he asked, more as repartee than curiosity.
Not surprisingly, she seemed flattered at his inquiry. “Adam has been keeping me extremely busy. Actually, it’s kept me from missing you too much,” she cooed.
“Is it something you can talk about?”
“Sure!” She knew from the expression on his face that he was teasing, but she was more than happy to play along. “Things are starting to brew again with various states battling the government over land rights. Adam is trying to reopen Wyoming’s suit that it lost years ago when it was overruled by the 10th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in 2011.”
“Originally, didn’t that have to do with the Clinton Administration cordoning off public lands and preventing Wyoming from building roads?”
“Yes, and Adam believes the White House overstepped its authority and that only Congress can designate wilderness lands. Currently, the federal rule bars Wyoming from developing nearly fifty million acres of roadless areas in the national forests. You may also recall that during the same time, the state of Utah filed a similar suit. But, in that case, the Baari administration had claimed the land as eminent domain. It prevented the state from building roads through the federally-owned land to get to state-owned parcels where they have drilling leases.”
“Vaguely,” Noble responded, while at the same time he thought, I had forgotten about the suit totally.
Now, she had his complete attention.
Noticing his interest beginning to peak, she continued. “Neither suit ever gained any traction. With the federal government, alleging sovereignty over all public lands, the natural gas industry is once again rallying support. They’re hoping a new administration will back their cause. Adam Ridge is a combative lobbyist, but it’s still going to be a tough battle.”
“Is he fighting for other states with a common interest, as well?”
“Yes, Adam is also defending Colorado’s right to drill. Those three states alone, with their shale oil and natural gas deposits, would end the U.S. energy dependence. It’s crazy. Even for those states that have legitimate drilling rights, they can’t get to the source because the government is preventing them from building roads on the federal lands necessary to access the sites,” she declared.
Noble reached for his wine glass as he stated, “I remember one year—I believe it was 2009—the federal government wanted to set aside nine million acres of land to save wild horses. Rather extreme, I would say, even for the horsey set.”
“Exactly! The government appears to be in a feeding frenzy, gobbling up all the land it can for whatever reason it can muster.”
“It seems more like lame excuses.”
“You’re right, because when they don’t find an acceptable reason, such as national parks, Indian land, military facilities, etcetera, etcetera, they resort to eminent domain. Anyway, you get my point!”
Noble enjoyed listening to Amanda speak passionately about her work. Being a workaholic himself, he found it an endearing quality, one that made them compatible. He also happened to be fanatical about the topic at hand. “These land grabs must come with a price. It’s amazing there haven’t been more legal challenges. At least I’m not aware of any. After all, everything the government owns is funded by the taxpayers.”
“Including the pens used to sign the spending bills into law,” she lamented.
Noble concurred. “Despite taxpayers’ rights, I read that over the years and throughout many administrations, the Federal Government has managed to claim close to thirty percent of the land in the U.S. More importantly, by the same token, thirty percent of the natural energy resources as well!” Noble went on, “Didn’t the Secretary of the Interior for the Baari administration also cancel seventy-seven drilling leases that had been approved by the previous administration?”
“You’re correct. In 2010, those leases were part of Utah’s canyon country, east of the Great Basin and south of Dugway,” Amanda explained matter-of-factly.
“Dugway!” Noble blurted out, brusquely regaining an erect position.
Amanda, startled at his reaction, continued slowly, “In addition to the federal government owning close to eight hundred thousand acres of the Dugway Proving Ground, the Baari administration acquired most of the land south of Dugway. It is currently being managed by the Bureau of Land Management.” She paused briefly. “May I ask what your apparent interest is in this land?” she searched, conceding her snooping would get her nowhere.
As anticipated, Noble gave her the “you-know-the-answer” look.
Amanda chuckled at his reaction as she continued to elaborate. “So, you can see Adam is fighting two issues. First, the legitimacy of the government’s land grabs and, second, the reinstitution of drilling leases.”
“It’s going to be combat in the trenches,” Noble opined.
“I know, but we’re hoping President Post will be able to work with the battle-wise environmentalists. Our energy situation is becoming dire, especially with the turmoil continuing in the Middle East.” Amanda stopped speaking briefly as she caught Noble trying to stifle a yawn. “I’m sorry. I’ve been rattling on, and you must be hungry and tired,” she acknowledged.
“Just come over here and sit down next to me for a while,” Noble gestured with an open arm.
Amanda stood up from the chair and walked over to sit next to Noble on the sofa. As she leaned back to relax in his arms, he asked, “What’s Adam’s wife like?”
What an odd question, she thought as she pulled back to look up at him. “Nancy’s very pleasant. We’ve had lunch together a few times. Why do you ask?”
“Amanda, I need you to do something for me,” Noble spoke softly and calmly.
“Of course, anything that’s not ‘illegal, immoral, or fattening,’ as someone once said,” she kidded as her curiosity was aroused.
“I need to speak with Adam off-the-record, and covertly. No one must learn of our meeting. We cannot be seen in public together.”
“How can I help?” she volunteered enthusiastically. “Does it have to do with the case you’re working on?”
Ignoring her prodding and enthusiasm, Noble requested that she invite Adam and Nancy to her townhouse, ostensibly as dinner guests. As part of the plan, Amanda would reveal to Adam the real purpose of the invitation and ask that he explain to his wife that it was important for him to stay behind for a confidential meeting—with an unidentified person. Amanda and Nancy would then depart for dinner at a restaurant nearby. Noble had questions for Adam, and believed he could provide the answers he desperately needed. For Adam’s protection, it was imperative they meet in secret.
“Noble, please, what is this all about?”
“Shush, no more talk about work. Just lean back and let me feel you in my arms.”
Within seconds, the chitchat had stopped and silence prevailed. Several minutes later, Amanda carefully extracted herself out from under Noble’s arms and discovered him in a deep sleep.
Noble rubbed his eyes as he rolled over and found himself still on the sofa, but with a pillow under his head and a blanket tucked over his chest. Suddenly, he sat upright, having no idea what time it was, until he smelled the fresh brewed coffee wafting fr
om the kitchen. He managed to amble his way groggily to the source of the aroma and to a vision of beauty that presented him with a cup.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” she voiced softly, as she kissed him on the cheek.
“I’m a great date, am I not?” Noble teased.
“You were exhausted, and I didn’t have the heart to awaken you.”
Noble sipped his coffee while he half-listened to Amanda recap their clandestine plan from the night before. Sleepily, he looked down and glanced at his watch. “I have just enough time for a quick shower, then off to the White House.” He kissed her hurriedly on the forehead, thanked her for the coffee, and dashed off to the bedroom.
15
GOING UNDERGROUND
Inside the White House at 7:30 a.m., the hallways were unusually quiet and absent the usual array of wandering souls. Noble enjoyed those rare occasions to meander silently through the hallowed halls, especially this morning, as it gave him renewed vigor. When he finally arrived in his office, he noticed immediately a small box sitting on his desk wrapped with a large red bow. He smiled as he untied the ribbon. Mad Dog had worked miracles many times before. Noble was confident he had done it again. He opened the box. “Perfect!” he exclaimed, then set the precious gift off to the side.
He continued to enjoy a few more moments of precious solitude as he slowly digested the bran muffin Amanda slipped into his briefcase. Then, after sipping another cup of strong coffee he had just brewed, he began to delve into the jumble of evidence he needed to decipher. While the breakfast went down easy, he was having difficulty digesting the connections between the state of Utah’s suit, the Dead Zone, the European bombings—and Simon.
Only a week earlier, President Post had delivered his inaugural address on “The Rebirth of America.” And, over the past seven days, Noble’s feeling of renewal was turning to dread. Some of the same old problems appeared to be looming ahead. He sat back in his chair and spent the next hour assembling and disassembling in his mind all he and Max had discovered relating to the Dead Zone. Then, angrily, he thought, there’s one person who may be able to add some clarification.
Just then, Max burst into his office without warning. But before she had an opportunity to speak, Noble held up his left hand and said, “Hold that thought.” With his other hand, he reached for his phone and punched in a series of numbers.
“Noble, how nice to hear from you,” replied the voice on the other end.
“Hank, this is not a social call. I want you in my office tomorrow.”
“Not a good time, Noble.”
“This is not a request. Call my secretary and schedule the appointment.” The line went dead.
Noble then hit the lower left-hand button. “Doris, Hank Kramer will be calling to schedule an appointment for Friday. Rearrange my calendar as necessary. It is imperative I meet with him.”
“What was that all about?” Max inquired.
“I’m not sure, but I have a feeling the former president’s chief of staff might have some useful information regarding our investigation. I’ll let you know if I uncover anything important.”
“You don’t want me to sit in on the meeting?” Max whined, sounding dejected.
“No, I’ll deal with him. I know this guy. And I know how he behaves when being questioned. I’ll get more out of him if I handle it one-on-one. Besides, you’ll be in Utah.”
Max was not aware of Hank’s connection to La Fratellanza and, more important, to Simon. All evidence against Hank for his part in perpetrating the plot was on a flash drive and on the memory sticks retaining the video recordings from the interrogation. Noble had securely tucked them away in a safe-deposit box where they would remain unless, of course, one of the members of the group was to break the confidentiality agreement.
Noble knew he had to manage this interview on his own.
“Now, what was so important that you had to burst into my office?”
“You summoned me to your office before I leave for Utah,” Max responded unflapped.
“Next time, try to enter more leisurely. Now close the door behind you and sit down. There is something I need to tell you before you take off”
Max obeyed.
Noble began guardedly. “What I am about to divulge must never leave this room.”
The seriousness in Noble’s voice sent momentary chills up Max’s spine. “Are you okay?”
Without deviating from his tone of voice, he began to explain, “Almost seven months ago, when I spoke to the media, ultimately forcing Baari to resign from the presidency, I gave them only part of the story. That goes for the congressional committee investigations as well.”
Max reacted visibly to the idea that Noble would be less than truthful, especially with the presidency at stake.
Acknowledging her uneasiness, he specified, “I did not lie or distort, but in answering the questions I also did not embellish. It’s what I didn’t say.”
“Noble, I don’t understand!”
Ignoring her reaction, he continued. “In the mid-nineties, a group of students, while attending Harvard Graduate School, created a secret society called La Fratellanza. Simon was the group leader. Their mission was to groom, educate, and elevate an illegal immigrant to the Oval Office. Simon tried to recruit me to be a member of the group, which I resisted. I did embrace them as classmates and socialized with them at times.” Noble waited for Max’s response, but none was forthcoming.
She was visibly taken aback.
Increasing the seriousness in his voice and focusing on her expression, he emphasized, “At all times, I was unaware of their mission.” Noble hesitated and then admitted, “I honestly believe Simon never forgave me for shunning his invitations to join the group and, most certainly, for being the one to expose their incredible plot.” Proceeding slowly, he described how Hamilton hired him to design SAVIOR. How he used SAVIOR to unleash the identity of Abner Baari, which then led him to the individual members of the group. He spoke of the interrogation in broad strokes and of the ultimate sting operation that failed in Florence. “According to the immunity agreement signed by the individuals in the group, their identities are not to be divulged. But, circumstances have changed. For now, all you need to know is that Hank Kramer was a member of La Fratellanza and was the only link between Simon and the president. Even Baari didn’t know about the group. He was told that a few wealthy executives were his benefactors and wished to remain anonymous.”
Max broke her silence. “Kramer. So that is why you don’t want me in the meeting?”
“I know Hank, and he won’t open up with you in the room.”
“You think Hank is still connected to Simon?”
“I suggested to Hank on several occasions that it would be in his best interest to distance himself from Baari—a suggestion he chose not to heed entirely. However, as part of the immunity agreement, he was never to have contact with Simon. But, if Simon were to contact him, he was obliged to report it to me immediately.”
It was clear by Max’s demeanor that she grasped the enormity of the situation.
He continued. “Simon disappeared in 2008, but for the last eight years some of the policies established by the Baari administration seem to be linked to the situation in Utah today. By all accounts, Baari was taking directions from other sources. I believe Simon was still manipulating Baari like a puppet through Hank for unknown purposes.” Noble wavered and then added, “But I think we are getting close.”
“You’re still convinced that Simon is involved with the tunnel that Darrow uncovered?” Max stopped abruptly and then shook her head from side to side. “My God, Darrow’s murder too?”
Ignoring her questions, he hastily requested, “Show me the direction of the tunnels.”
Noble stood up and walked into the conference room.
Max followed, closing the door behind as though they had entered the inner sanctum.
Standing next to the map on the large monitor, Max pointed to the arrows she had in
serted.
“The tunnel leading from the Bell Hill Mine heads in this direction. The tunnels at the Joy Mine and the Silver City Mine head in these directions. This is our best guess, based on the information from the troops that dug through the tunnels until they had to retreat.”
She waited a moment for Noble to study her additions. Then, she noted, “The area I circled is our approximation as to the location of a subterranean facility—if it does exist. The steel door has to lead somewhere.”
Noble agreed. “Max, I’m convinced we’re dealing with what appears to be some sort of terrorist camp. It may seem far out, but possibly a grooming center for a future head of government.” He knew he was making a great leap in deduction but, as he juggled with reality, he also knew to follow his instincts. “We have to find their escape route. Logic tells me Simon is directly involved and has to be on the scene. I can feel it.”
Max detected the grim, yet confident tone in his voice.
Without further deliberation, Noble reached into his pocket for the box the Secret Service guard had left on his desk earlier that morning. “Here, take this with you to Utah. If I’m correct, you’ll have the answer to your earlier questions.”
Max took the box from Noble, opened it cautiously, and peered inside. She impulsively recoiled and exclaimed, “What the hell is this?”
“A thumb, Max. And if Mad Dog pulled off another miracle, it will give you access to whatever is behind that steel door.”
“Simon’s thumbprint!” She gasped.
Noble nodded in agreement.
“Brilliant, but where did you get it?”
“Years ago, Simon vacated an apartment in Menlo Park, California. Based on a hunch, Hamilton had the apartment searched. On the light switch near the front door, the forensic team discovered a lonely thumbprint. That’s what led us to learn that Simon Hall and Mohammed al-Fadl were the same person. That thumbprint has been resting in a top-secret file I have been preserving all this time.”
“Didn’t Agent Burke report that the security pad was an Intelli-Pass biometric fingerprint ID system?”
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