The Ultimate Revenge

by Sally Fernandez

  “And the car was a blue metallic Ford Escape XLS sport utility model.”

  “Precisely, and the plates matched.” Max took a half-bow.

  “So now we know that she left the car somewhere outside the prison grounds and Simon used it as his getaway car.”

  “And that the envelope must have contained the key and registration for the car.”

  “And the xPhad.” Noble sat back and began to ponder his next step.

  Max left him to contemplate.

  “I’ll call the senator,” Noble announced. “This time she is coming to us. If she does not cooperate, I’ll threaten her with a Senate committee hearing. I will also encourage her to bring counsel. We’re handling this one strictly by the book.” Noble paused, and then queried, “I just have one nagging question. How did she get back into her hotel suite without the secret service agents knowing?”

  “Good question—hold on.” Max queued up the video from the hotel and fast-forwarded to nine o’clock p.m. They sat back and watched the scene play out in the corridor. One of the senator’s agents was sitting in a chair outside her door, flipping through a magazine. Max moved the video forward at a slow speed. An hour on the video had passed and the scene had not changed. Max and Noble persevered. She paused the tape. “He appears to be taking a call on his smartphone.”

  “Where’s he going?” Noble was aware of the protocol. He was not to leave his post.

  “Look!” Max exclaimed. She paused the video again. Coming out of the exit door was Maryann scooting toward her suite. Max hit the Play button. They watched as Maryann knocked on the door and the door opened. She slid inside the room and then closed the door shut. Moments later, the agent returned with an ice bucket and several Diet Cokes. He knocked on the door to the suite. Max and Noble continued to view the scene in utter amazement as Maryann opened the door dressed in her bathrobe and reached for the ice bucket. The door closed once again and the agent returned to his chair and magazine, none the wiser.

  “Mystery solved!” Noble scoffed in jest, and then said, “Good job, Max.”

  “Thanks boss. Now, how did your homework assignment go?”

  “I found two more grids.”

  “What! That’s impossible. I scoured through all the manuals pertaining to the Department of Energy.”

  “They weren’t there. I found them folded between the pages of the FEMA’s An In-depth Guide to Citizen Preparedness. One was for the Florida Reliability Coordinating Council, and the other was for the Northern Tier Transmission Group. What was odd, other than the fact they had been separated from the other grids, was that no number appeared in the upper right hand corner of the page.”

  “Noble, I don’t know how I could have missed them. I swear I went through that manual as well. Do you think they’re significant?”

  “It appears Simon is avoiding those grids for now. Interestingly, the Northern Tier controls the energy supply to Utah.”

  “That would make sense. He, of course, wasn’t expecting that we would discover the location of the underground encampment. It’s obvious Simon would’ve planned to rely on the power.”

  “Also, let’s not forget it’s about two hours away from Camp Williams near Bluffdale.”

  “You mean the location of the four-billion-dollar project, housing the National Security Agency’s Data Center? Their data mining activities are mindboggling. I suppose it could be a target, but it is also heavily fortified including its own police force. I doubt if Simon were to create a national disaster that location would serve a purpose.”

  “But I understood the NSA uses a cloud technology that allows other agencies to access the data bank remotely. Simon’s a hell of a wily creature; perhaps he’s discovered a vulnerability.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m not sure. This case is getting weirder by the day.” Max tossed up her hands as if she were giving in, and asked, “Incidentally, why avoid Florida? It would affect close to five million citizens.”

  “Not sure. Let’s not discount either grid for now.” Noble glanced at his watch. “Kramer’s showing up soon. What did you find out about Agenda 21?”

  “I’ve been a little busy.” The minutes the words left her mouth, she realized it was not the desired answer. “I’ll get right on it.”

  “And I’ll have a conversation with our unscrupulous senator. I suspect she’ll meet with us willingly. It’s a better cover here than in her office.”

  Max let out a deep breath and asked, “Noble, don’t you think it’s time to bring in additional resources? We’re all stretched pretty thin.” She was not as concerned with herself, but it was obvious the case was taking a toll on Noble. She did not understand why they had to tread so cautiously.

  “With all honesty—I’m afraid of what we might discover. I’m not sure who we can trust. For now, I only want Stanton and Burke involved and to a limited degree.” Noble paused. “This may prove to be bigger than all of us. I haven’t even informed the president of these latest developments.”

  “Boss!”

  “I will—soon. But let’s give it a little more time.”

  Max could tell by Noble’s demeanor that it was best to change the subject, at least for the moment. “I assume you don’t want me to sit in on the meeting?”

  Noble shook his head with the familiar no.

  Max anticipated the answer but thought she would give it a shot. She remembered her conversation when they first started to trail Simon. It was a rare moment when Noble stepped out of character and divulged the name of one of the members of La Fratellanza—a direct connection to Simon. It was Hank Kramer. He never revealed the others and she suspected he never would. She agreed with Noble that Kramer would speak more freely without her being present.

  9

  THE PLAYERS

  Noble noted the time. He had twenty minutes to make a few mental notes and prepare for another round with Hank Kramer, a member of La Fratellanza, and the linchpin joining Abner Baari and Simon Hall.

  Years earlier, while Hank played the conduit between these two, the other members of La Fratellanza busily worked in the background unbeknown to Baari. They prepared his lesson plans that Hank later imparted, and organized in advance to prepare for his election campaigns. At the behest of Hank, Baari later hired the same La Fratellanza members to organize his campaign for the Illinois State Senate. Ultimately, Baari appointed them to his administration in the White House, again based on Hank’s recommendations.

  Other than the members themselves, Noble was the only one aware of their involvement. During the course of the Baari Administration, each member under investigation had resigned from his post at Noble’s bidding. On the other hand, Hank stubbornly hung in until the day Noble’s investigation forced Baari himself to resign.

  Noble still found it inconceivable that a group of Harvard scholars could devise a plot to place their “Chosen One” in the office of the president of the United States. In their defense, he believed this group of intellectuals had never conceived at the time that their actions would trigger events leading to a banking crisis and open the door for a terrorist to infiltrate the U.S. Treasury and steal its funds. Clearly, they did not have the vaguest notion that Simon, their fraternal brother and self-appointed leader of the group, was Mohammed al-Fadl.

  Unlike his most recent confrontation with Hank, Noble decided to try the “attract more with honey” routine to elicit his support. He suspected Hank had pertinent information, but was still holding some cards close to his vest. Moreover, Hank had convinced himself that the game had ended. However, Noble believed the game was in the late innings but had not finished. He thought if Hank, in a constant state of apprehension, were to learn that the ball was still in play, he would surely want to distance himself from Simon. Noble contemplated his approach as he scribbled a few points on his note pad and readied himself for what he anticipated to be a long and confrontational meeting. He glanced at his watch in reaction to the intercom buzzer.<
br />
  Hank was prompt.

  “Send him in, Doris.”

  Noble stood up and walked over to greet Hank. His gesture was as friendly as he could muster. “I appreciate your coming in,” he said as he extended his hand with a faux, but convincing smile.

  Hank, a tad grumpy, was not buying it. “Like I had a choice.”

  “Let’s sit over there, it will be more comfortable.” Noble walked toward the overstuffed chairs on the other side of the room.

  Hank followed.

  Noble did not trust Hank, and he always had difficulty keeping Hank’s trademark bluster on point. But he needed Hank and he would tolerate his pontification, painful as it might be.

  “I apologize for the grilling last time, but I was in the midst of a crucial case and believed you had information that would be helpful, and it was. Now I have a series of other questions and I trust you will be as forthcoming.” Noble sensed Hank might be softening his demeanor, so he began his restrained inquiry. “Have you had the occasion to speak with Senator Townsend recently?”

  Hank attempted to hide his nervousness as he recollected his last encounter with the former first lady, punctuated by thoughts of Simon. The whole affair had exhausted him. Nevertheless, he tuned into Noble’s technique of asking questions, knowing in advance he had a hint of the answer. Hank yielded. “Yes, she asked to meet with me a couple of months ago.”

  “For what purpose?”

  Hank shifted slightly in his chair, and then looking squarely at Noble, answered, “She had a message from Simon.”

  “The senator and Simon?” Noble feigned surprise.

  “It wasn’t until our meeting that I had my confirmation. I always suspected they had met before.”

  “Under what circumstances?”

  “Simon suggested that Baari needed a wife before running for his U.S. senatorial seat. In fact, he already had selected whom he considered the perfect candidate. I doubted his convenient selection for the future first lady.” Hank explained that based on the suspicion he harbored, he felt it prudent to vet Maryann. In the course of his inquiry, he discovered she had attended Radcliff at the same time the members of La Fratellanza attended Harvard, including Simon.

  “Over time, I never made the connection until she passed along Simon’s message, which startled me. Then I remembered Simon’s bedroom was always off limits, even though he gave us free reign of the rest of his apartment. All of us suspected that it had its uses, though we were not privy to the details. We would snicker over the possibility that it accommodated a parade of women. Bear in mind that oftentimes, when you joined us for drinks or dinner, Simon would create an excuse and slip away. He did it quite often, which naturally played into our guessing game.”

  “At last we understand why.” Noble smiled, trying to ease the tension. “What was Simon’s message?”

  Hank shifted in his seat again and answered sheepishly, “He wanted me to leave my pager on. He complained and then reminded me that I was to be available at all times.”

  Hank had revealed to Noble in a previous conversation that Simon had configured his pager to receive alphanumeric messages, but limited his responses to a yes or no.

  Noble remembered the conversation well. Simon left specific instructions for Hank to deliver a message directly to Noble. His exact words were “back off or the world will be sorry.” It still gives me pause, imagining what Simon had in store, he pondered.

  Hank caught a glimpse of Noble’s reaction. “The last time you summoned me to the White House, the security guards confiscated my electronics. They returned my smartphone and pager when I departed. It was at that moment that I decided I wanted no more contact with Simon. There were imposing inherent risks, but I didn’t care.”

  Hank took an irate tone unexpectedly. “Then I get the message from Maryann forcing me back in the game! I was hoping to stay on the sidelines. Having no choice, I passed along Simon’s message to you, knowing you’d dangle the immunity agreement! But oh no, you kept me in the game, forcing me to stay in contact with Simon! I remember your threat if I defied your orders, ‘you’ll put me away for a very long time. I’d go down alone.’” He stopped abruptly. It appeared his blustering had run its course. Hank clasped his hands, stared at the carpet and retreated into silence.

  Noble gave him a momentary time-out session.

  Then Noble proceeded with added calm, and questioned, “After each of you signed the immunity agreement, I advised you to extricate yourselves from Baari’s Administration. The others responded, but why did you stay to the end? You knew it was only a matter of time before the walls would come tumbling down.”

  “I couldn’t leave. The Chestnut Foundation was my baby that I built from the grassroots and we were being attacked from all angles. The right flank was coming at us constantly no matter what we did. The left flank wanted more from me. With all sincerity, I only wanted to give a voice to a segment of the population that was downtrodden. Alinsky had it right. Community organizing gives the power to the people. I admit we pushed it to the edge at times, but it was for the greater good of our constituency.” He paused. “I hung in because I needed the protection that the office of the president offered.”

  Noble did not buy his bleeding heart argument. He remembered the numerous accounts of voter fraud and voter intimidation pointing to the Chestnut Foundation. He suspected in part that Simon pressured Hank to stay close to Baari.

  “The day you forced Baari to resign was the worst day of my life,” Hank lamented.

  “Looks like you got the short end of the wishbone.”

  Hank looked back at Noble with a dubious stare. “Simon is still on the loose and you need my help. What do I get in return?”

  “Once Simon is in custody, I will modify the immunity agreement. It will give you more latitude and restrict the means by which you can be prosecuted.”

  Hank shook his head with skepticism, though he felt an odd sense of partial relief, until reality set in. It was clear his life was in even greater peril, as long as Simon continued to roam free. He sank back into the chair.

  Noble almost felt sympathy for him. “Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “What else did the senator divulge about Simon?”

  “Nothing, other than she had no idea what was going on and didn’t want to know. She said she was simply doing a favor for a friend.”

  So the prison was not the first time she made the connection. She lied again. Noble thought, and then posed, “a friend, who she knew was a terrorist!”

  “She said she only made the connection, when al-Fadl stole the money from the Treasury, and then both he and Simon disappeared at the same time.”

  “Did she know about Baari’s true identity?”

  “Not until you went to the press,” Hank noted irritably. “Then she figured out later that I was in the thick of the plot. Needless to say, she was furious.”

  “Has she spoken to Baari since he disappeared?”

  “I asked her the same question. She swears all she knows is what’s been flowing in the rumor mill and bits and pieces from her own sources.”

  Within a month of Noble making the announcement to the press, exposing the true identity of President Abner Baari, stories started to swirl around the Beltway like a cyclone. Various sources reported that he had fled to Libya to work on their National Transitional Council. After the ousting of Qaddafi, the council had failed miserably in their attempts to restore some form of government. In fact, several dictatorial leaders who stepped in following Qaddafi met the same fate. Baari’s arrival was convenient timing and coincided with the council’s desire to institute a quasi-democratic regime.

  “Last she heard was that Baari had reverted to his birth name, Hussein Tarishi, and had been appointed president of the Senate in the Libyan parliament,” Hank informed.

  “And there has been no other contact?”

  “Not to my knowledge. Why all the questions about Maryann?”

  “I’m t
rying to understand all the players. What legislation did Baari try to push through during his first term?”

  “You mean other than trying to change the constitution allowing for a third term,” Hank quipped.

  Noble smiled. He remembered a representative from New York had submitted a bill to the House of Representatives to repeal the twenty-second Amendment that imposed a two-term limit on the office of the president.

  “No, something more in line with Baari’s ambitious, but futile effort to resolve our energy dependency on foreign and fossil fuels.”

  Hank cocked his head.

  Noble gave him a moment to contemplate.

  “In June, the year our dear former president first took office, he established a task force to develop a national policy to ensure the protection of our natural resources and enhance their sustainability. Three months later in September, the task force submitted the Interim Report of the Interagency Ocean Policy Task Force.”

  “What’s the significance?”

  “It was the impetus for a bill he submitted to the House the following year, H-R 3-5-3-4, referred to as the Clear Act,” Hank responded.

  “However, there was more than meets the eye,” Noble alleged and then followed up. “When it narrowly passed, the president signed Executive Order 1-3-5-4-7, bypassing the senate and surreptitiously opening up the mandate to sign the Law of the Sea Treaty with the United Nations.”

  Hank was aghast.

  “I’ve been reading up on the subject,” Noble smiled. “What else?”

  “So you’re aware that the Clear Act paved the way to set aside more land for government ownership for the purpose of preservation. It also halted all forms of drilling for energy supply in an effort to force support for renewable energy.”

  “Tell me about Tres Amigas.”

  Taken aback for the second time, Hank paused. Then he slowly began to answer, “The Superstation…” and then stopped.

  “What is it you want to say?”

  “It’s more of a question,” he stammered. “What do you think Simon was planning?”