Noble's Quest

by Sally Fernandez

  “Off Route 6, near Silver City, where the Hazelton Family met their deaths. It was located in an old chimney that still stands. A possible connection?” Max contemplated more than questioned. “Soldiers are guarding that area as well.”

  “Now, do you believe there is an underground facility somewhere out in the desert?”

  Max could almost see Noble smirking. She picked up with a hint of sarcasm, “You know me. I wait until I have all the data. Besides, I don’t have your historical perspective.”

  “Hold on, Max. I have to take this call.”

  Max, accustomed to being cut-off, sat back and tolerated the silence on the other end of the line.

  Noticing the caller’s name on the display, Noble attempted to keep his anger at bay. He answered steadily, “Hank, what can I do for you?”

  “I have a message,” he responded hesitantly.

  “What is it? I’m on another call.” Noble’s impatience was evident.

  Hank took a deep breath, then sputtered, “Simon paged me and left a text message for you. His exact words were back off or the world will be sorry.”

  Astonished by the threat, Noble became infuriated. “Why the hell didn’t he contact me directly?

  Sounding faintly downcast, Hank claimed, “It’s one of Simon’s attempts to keep me in the game.”

  “A game you’ve been participating in all along. As I recall, that violates your immunity agreement,” Noble reminded sharply.

  “I’ve never violated the spirit of our agreement.”

  Noble knew the truth and ignored the semantics. “How does he communicate?”

  “On the rare occasion he tries to reach me, it’s by pager. I know it’s obsolete. But while we were in the White House, Simon would always update all of our pagers with the latest technology. And, before he disappeared, he set mine up to receive only alphanumeric messages from him. The only way I can communicate a response is to page either yes or no to his request.” Hank vacillated. “Noble, I’m deathly afraid of responding no.” The fear in his voice was apparent.

  “You should have gotten out of the game entirely when I gave you the choice,” Noble scolded. Then, he pulled back his anger ever so slightly. Even though he believed Hank was quite unprincipled, he did have an ounce of empathy. After all, Simon had also manipulated me, to a certain degree, he confessed to himself.

  But, Hank being Hank, ignored Noble’s ire and rambled defensively. “I had no choice. Simon does not tolerate betrayal. I’m sure you know what happened to the others. I told you. He scares the hell out of me.”

  At the mention of the others, Noble immediately insisted, “Why hasn’t Simon targeted Paolo?”

  Within seconds, Hank’s demeanor changed dramatically. This time he boldly came back with, “Trust me, he’ll eventually use Paolo to get to you. He is only holding him in abeyance in his arsenal of manipulation.”

  Noble, while unnerved, restrained himself and continued to maintain his composure. He reproached Hank for aiding and abetting Simon during the Baari administration. Then, without missing a beat, he did a U-turn and reversed his direction. “However—I want you to continue to maintain contact with Simon.”

  “What? Am I hearing correctly?”

  “I’m not finished. You are to report to me all messages you receive without fail—before you respond.” Then, for the first time—in a chilling voice—he commanded, “I will find out if you defy my orders and, should that happen, I will put you away for a very long time. You will go down alone and secretly. Your brothers are individually insulated. Do you understand?”

  “I hear you, Noble.”

  Noble hit the swap button switching back to Max’s call.

  Max heard the click on the line, sat upright, and prepared to continue the conversation.

  “Good work. Is the Colonel cooperating?” Noble acted as if there had been no interruption at all.

  Max, however, detected his voice seemed more strained. She assumed his change in demeanor had something to do with his phone call. She chose not to meddle. So, in a more lively tone, she responded, “He’s been great, along with the Special Forces and, believe it or not, Agent Burke. They’ve all been cooperative.”

  “They must enjoy taking orders from a woman,” he teased, instantly feeling more at ease with the sound of her voice.

  “Unlike you, Noble,” she retorted. “Now, I assume you’d like to talk about the flash drive?”

  “What have you been waiting for—an invitation?”

  “So, you really think the flash drive is Simon’s, and he left it intentionally?”

  “Simon has some foibles but doesn’t make mistakes,” Noble reminded.

  “What about his fingerprint that was found in the Menlo Park apartment, and his using the same password for all his bank accounts,” she emphasized, adding, “even intelligent people have vulnerabilities, and people with vulnerabilities can make mistakes.”

  “Now you’re a shrink?” he joshed, and then admitted, “I don’t have all the answers, but perhaps the flash drive will shed some light. Hold on. I’m transferring your call to my secure line, and then I’ll put you on the speakerphone.” After a brief pause, he said, “Can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, sir,” she replied, and then instructed, “log onto to the SIA Cloud and access the NOMIS folder. You’ll find a subfolder named FDrive.”

  It took Noble a few minutes to access the system. Using his virtual keyboard he typed in his password, which was then encrypted. He then entered a series of security PIN numbers followed by a separate password for NOMIS. The complex, security login procedure was something Noble himself had successfully lobbied for with Congress. The procedure was not only for access to the SIA Cloud, but also for access to all federal government databases.

  While Noble was busy entering the appropriate passwords, Max explained that the flash drive contained many files with various file extensions, which she had sorted and separated into different folders she had created.

  “I’m in,” he announced. “I’ll take over the keyboard.”

  From each of their respective monitors, they could view the files on the cloud.

  Max began to describe the individual folders and their contents. “Okay, you’ll notice I placed all the documents in the DOC folder and photos in the PHOTO folder. There were several diagrams and blueprints, so I moved them to the DIAGRAMS folder.” She paused. “Noble, most troubling is that there were several filenames with file extensions that I couldn’t identify. So, I put them into the MISCELLANEOUS folder. Let’s start there,” she suggested.

  Noble adjusted his chair, faced his monitor, and prepared himself for what he was about to uncover. Using his mouse pad, he tapped on the MISCELLANEOUS folder. Predictably, he was uneasy as Hank’s words rang in his ears, Simon’s exact words were back off, or the world will be sorry. “Back off from what, from where?” he wondered.

  “What did you say?”

  “I’m just talking to myself.” He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for—evidence linking Simon to the European bombings, or to an underground facility in the middle of nowhere. The words back off continued to occupy his mind.

  Max couldn’t tell what Noble was thinking, but she could watch on her monitor as he moved his mouse through the list of files in the MISCELLANEOUS folder. To her surprise, she noticed that he had highlighted twenty specific files. Overtaken by curiosity, she continued to watch her screen for Noble’s next move. From nowhere, another subfolder appeared, and he swiftly cut and pasted the files to the new folder.

  “What’s going on?” She was no longer content to be an onlooker.

  “Study the file names. What common link do they have?”

  Max sensed Noble already had the answer, but was now putting her to the challenge.

  “Give me a minute.” Max perused the first eight file names, examining them with laser-like focus. “They all start with letters that look like stock ticker symbols for companies.” She contemplated for
a moment, and then blurted out, “For banks! Yes, of course, for banks!”

  “Exactly!” he exclaimed. “Look at the first one, STI7890321Z6 is for SunTrust Bank. It’s followed by FITB958219X9 for Fifth Third Bank, BAC222934Y3 for Bank of America, STT236492W3 for State Street Corp, WFC889233V2 for…”

  “Slow down. I get it. It’s Wells Fargo,” she interrupted, quickly adding, “Noble, you named the folder ROB. You think these files are a connection to Simon’s slush fund, the one he affectionately named Uncle Rob when he was working with La Fratellanza? Could he still be siphoning off money from the banks?” she asked with amazement.

  “It will take me some time, but I think these files contain the backdoor code to each of their databases. Unbelievably, after all these years, and all the added security, he is still able to tap in and transfer funds.”

  “To quote Yogi Berra,” Max cited, “‘It’s like déjà vu all over again.’”

  “If only I could travel back in time. I’m sure, knowing what we know today, Hamilton and I could have prevented Simon from escaping in Florence, and all of this would have ended years ago.” Noble’s voice was dripping with distress.

  Max hesitated before making the next profound statement. “Ostensibly, Simon did lose his flash drive. What if it wasn’t an attempt to mislead us?”

  There was no response from Noble.

  Max watched as he switched to the DOCUMENT folder and hurriedly scrolled through the files, seemingly examining only the filenames. Many of them referred to training exercises one would expect: Cyber-terrorism, Unconventional Warfare, Propaganda, Insurgency, Intimidation, and Suicide Attack.

  “When I scanned the documents briefly, something didn’t seem right. The info seemed like it was downloaded from Wikipedia, not up to Simon’s standard, but there were a lot of handwritten notes that we’ll need time to study.” Max assumed Noble had heard her, but she could see on the monitor that he was still spinning past the multitude of files.

  Suddenly, he stopped at a document titled Civilian Casualty Ratio. Max heard him grunt the word, “Disturbing.” Next, he opened one titled SERE Instructor Training.

  Max heard him say, “very interesting,” as he skimmed the pages. She knew that SERE was an intense military training program, an acronym for Survive Evade Risk Escape. She continued to watch carefully as Noble proceeded to scan the other titles, passing by Tactical Maneuvers, Explosives, and Special Forces.

  “Stop!” Max called out impulsively. “Check out the one titled Explosives.”

  Noble obliged, opened the document, and briskly flipped through the pages, stopping occasionally to speed read certain paragraphs. He had the habit of reading the screen by first highlighting the sentences as he read them. Max found it annoying while in his presence, but as she watched her monitor, she actually found it easier to follow along. When Noble opened the chapter listing bomb components, she noticed that a line was drawn through the words raw steel casing and p. 28 was written in the margin. Noble skipped to that page.

  “We’ve got him.” He let out a deep breath, and then rapidly announced, “The documents describe the same dimensions and materials that were used in the Paris and London bombings. The components are Pentaerythritol Tetranitrate and beryllium.” Noble had deciphered that the Pentaerythritol Tetranitrate, or PETN, alone was not significant because it was widely used in bomb making. But, the use of beryllium was extremely rare. The metal referred to on page 28 was a vital clue.

  Before Max realized, Noble had highlighted another paragraph in the document titled Special Forces under the chapter dealing with ammunition, specifically a list of preferred cartridges for sniper rifles. Halfway through the list was typed Cheyenne Tactical, and someone had drawn a thick black circle around the words.

  “Finally!” he exulted. “I have my connection to the New Year’s Eve bombings.”

  Max, not meaning to dampen his spirits, questioned, “Do you still think it was just a test, a sort of trial run?”

  “Yes,” he stated with slight annoyance. Noble’s mind was in overdrive, speedily switching gears. “Did you spot anything in the photos?”

  “Mostly they were shots from what I assume now to be a training camp. A few of them looked more like movie sets with different props.”

  Noble promptly switched over to the PHOTO folder and tapped the slideshow tab. Both Max and he sat back and began to look for clues. As the pictures scrolled by slowly, Noble first viewed the scenes Max had assumed were from the training camp, but the others she mistakenly thought were movie sets were actually locations.

  Noble paused at the first location. “Max, what do you see?”

  “Two ornate fountains, and what appears to be the bottom half of the Eiffel Tower in the background.”

  “It’s the Place de la Concorde, the location of the presumed assassination attempt of the French President.” Noble moved to the next photo. “Now what do you see?”

  “I see a series of pillars with a long boulevard running behind them.” Max sighed, “I know, it’s the Brandenburg Gate, and the boulevard is the Unter den Linden.”

  Noble remained silent and simply displayed the next photo. It was a view of Downing Street with the London Eye in the background.

  “So, this is further evidence that Simon was responsible for the New Year’s Eve attacks,” Max conceded. “Sorry, Noble, I didn’t catch it. They looked like movie sets, especially without people in the photos.”

  “They must have been taken early in the morning, before the locals hit the streets,” Noble conjectured, cutting her some slack. There were several more photos of the same locations but from different vantage points. Noble quickly passed by those and then continued the slideshow. Shortly thereafter, he paused and backed up to a previous photo.

  “Now, that is a stage with props setup for a speaker,” Max surmised, sensing a need for redemption.

  Noble shook his head. “What do you see next to the podium?”

  Max viewed the podium and then the stack of flags resting in the left-hand corner of the room. Next, she refocused on the podium. “Oh, my god!” she gasped. She gazed to the left of the podium, which would be to the right of the speaker, and eyed the European Community flag—standing next to the German flag. “Supposedly, he was using the props as a training exercise. Do you honestly believe Simon was training another one of his pawns to replace the German Chancellor?” she asked in utter disbelief.

  “It would appear as a real possibility. The chancellor is certainly on the list, but we can’t discount the French President or the British Prime Minister.”

  Max heard Noble let out a deep breath as he observed, “This is Abner Baari—all over again. This time, the consequences could be even more deadly.”

  “Frighteningly, he’s upping the stakes.”

  “Possibly, but one thing I still find difficult to grasp is that Simon is capable of killing and bombing indiscriminately.” There was obvious despair in Noble’s voice as he brought to mind his personal relationship with the Simon he once enjoyed.

  “What do you think is Simon’s ultimate motive?”

  “I honestly don’t know. It’s the primary question that continues to haunt me.” Noble knew he had to augment his thinking. “In order to unearth his plot, I have to test my own doubts about Simon.”

  “What we do know is that Simon is a notorious terrorist, also known as Mohammed al-Fadl, and that he originally operated under the direction of Osama bin-Laden,” Max recalled.

  “Yes, I know all that. And, I know that shortly after the bombings of the U.S. Embassies in Nairobi and Tanzania, in 1988—for which al-Qaeda took credit—al-Fadl reportedly had spun off from the group and parted ways with bin-Laden.”

  “But, does he still maintain loose ties with the terrorist organization, even though he purportedly operates independently? He can’t be a one man band.”

  Noble didn’t answer Max. He still found it problematic that al-Fadl had committed such atrocities. He knew that Simon was a
l-Fadl, but he couldn’t dispel the notion that Simon was also his college classmate and friend. And, by a quirk of fate, he ended up investigating Simon for federal crimes. Now that Noble was on the verge of finally capturing his nemesis, he was also mindful that there might be other threats embodied in his global plan.

  “There has to be a clue somewhere in these documents,” he concluded in a whisper, forgetting Max was on the other end of the line.

  “We’ll find it. Don’t worry. Check out the DIAGRAM folder. There are some bizarre blueprints.”

  Noble obliged, as she watched him scroll through the files until, apparently, one caught his eye. It appeared to Max that he had surreptitiously changed the filename, but it was with such speed, she questioned herself as to whether it really happened. Evidently, he was in the process of opening a file named Camp.

  “What are we looking at?” Max avoided commenting on his wizardry.

  At the same time, Noble hoped that she hadn’t taken note of the previous file name that read, The Presidential Lair. True to his word, he kept his promise to the president—never to reveal the true purpose of the underground bunker. “It appears to be a blueprint of a large facility with several connecting buildings. I feel confident that it is our encampment and the large X drawn across one of the buildings is the building you identified as the indoctrination center,” he pointed out, maintaining composure.

  “Why the X?”

  “Because Simon blew it up and it’s no longer functional,” Noble concluded.

  While Noble may have appeared calm, Max was shocked. “Simon knew all along that we were close to discovering the building. It was part of his plan to detonate the explosives that killed the two soldiers.”

  No longer composed, and noticeably concerned, Noble exclaimed, “And almost killed you and Agent Burke!”

  “If this really is the encampment shouldn’t we enter without delay?” Max prompted.

  “Let’s not lose sight of the prospect that this may still be a trap, and that Simon dropped the flash drive intentionally.”