The Ultimate Revenge

by Sally Fernandez

  “Who’s there?” asked the voice from the other side of the intercom.

  “A customer,” Burke replied.

  From the peephole, the shop owner detected Burke was no ordinary customer. The precision-style haircut was a giveaway. He opened the creaky door. “What can I do for you Agent?”

  Burke flashed a photo of Simon and the composite drawing derived from the used car dealer’s description. “Have you seen this man?”

  “He doesn’t look familiar.”

  Burke edged his way passed the door. “You know, you’re starting to look very familiar.”

  “Come on man, I’m just trying to earn a living.” He pointed to the sign over the counter that read, Passport and ID Photos. “This is a legitimate business.”

  “Look at them again.” Burke held the photo and drawing under the light fixture hanging from above to provide a better view, not that he conceived the lighting was the problem.

  “Oh, yeah. He came in for a passport photo.”

  “No, he came in for photos for passports and driver’s licenses. Does that jog your memory?”

  “Okay, okay.” The forger described the various documents he prepared for Simon and each of the different disguises. “But he never looked like that guy in the photo you’re holding.”

  “What else did he ask you to do?”

  “Nothing—just to prepare the documents.”

  Burke was an expert at reading body language. He persisted with his questioning. The forger was lying, but his expression changed ever so slightly. Finally, a breakthrough, he thought. He could feel it coming.

  “On second thought, he might have asked for information,” the forger admitted as he rubbed his fingers together looking for payment.

  Burke did not relent.

  “As I recall, he wanted to know where he could get his car detailed. It was worth a C-note to him. It’s got to be worth something to you.”

  “Hey genius, my payment will be my faulty memory when I meet up with your parole officer.” Burke handed him the pad of paper and pen that was lying on the counter. “Write down the address.”

  The forger reluctantly obliged.

  “If this doesn’t pan out, get ready for a homecoming back in your cell block.”

  Burke opened the creaky door and left.

  23

  DATE AND TIME

  Noble heard a rap on the door. “What?”

  “And a good morning to you.”

  “Sorry Doris, you startled me,” he said without turning to greet his intruder. Noble had been staring intently at the five grids on the large screen display. They were copies of the same grids discovered in the underground encampment. He felt as though they had transfixed him for hours.

  “What time did you arrive?”

  “Yesterday morning.”

  “Noble, you have to stop pulling these all-nighters. This case is going to drive you to your grave.”

  He turned and smiled. “No truer words spoken. I managed a few winks on the sofa.”

  “I’ll get you a fresh pot of coffee and order you a hot breakfast from the dining room.” As she turned to head out the door, she could hear Noble say, “Thanks, you’re a doll.”

  “Start off with what you know,” he said aloud, addressing himself.

  He played out the entire scenario logically in his mind. The first security breach was at the control center in Birmingham on November 4. The second was in Taylor on January 6 and the third was in Folsom on March 7. The other centers likely to be breached are in St. Paul on May 9, Carmel on May 13, and the last one on July 5 in Mississauga, Canada.

  “The last three dates could change if Simon chooses to escalate his timetable.”

  “Did you say something?” Doris asked, as she walked over to the conference table and placed the food tray down beside him.

  “Just talking to myself. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Eat this, it will help your think more clearly,” she ordered in a motherly tone.

  “I wasn’t hungry until I smelled the bacon. Thanks. And Doris, please hold my calls, except the short list.” Noble glanced at his watch. “Also, I’m expecting Major Stanton to arrive at eleven o’clock, please send him in.”

  “Eat.” Doris left the room.

  Noble moved his papers aside and slid the tray in front of him. As he downed his eggs and bacon and took several swigs of coffee, he maintained eye contact with the large screen display. Suddenly, something caught his attention. He focused on the numbers scribbled on each of the upper right-hand corners of the electrical grids. Using the virtual keyboard, he typed in each of the numbers with the corresponding dates of the past and expected breaches. Once again, he focused on the monitor.

  Birmingham

  11/4/2016 309

  Taylor

  1/6/2017 6

  Folsom

  3/7/2017 66

  St. Paul

  5/9/2017 129

  Carmel

  5/13/2017 133

  Mississauga

  7/5/2017 186

  “Odd, the first number is the largest and the others are sequential from low to high.” In his own world, he continued to speak aloud as he stared at the monitor. “They’re multiples of three, even odder.” He continued to concentrate on the numbers. “Of course!”

  Unexpectedly, the buzzer aroused him. “Yes, Doris.”

  “Agent Burke is on the line.”

  “Burke.”

  “We found the forger. He had no clue what Simon looked like, but he took photos of him in three different disguises. Simon walked away with forged driver’s licenses and passports.”

  “Did you confiscate his camera?”

  “No. Simon took the memory card. But I sent in the sketch artist and I think we have three pretty good likenesses. Also, get this. Simon asked if our forger could recommend the name of a good car detailer. I tracked him down and he reported that a man fitting one of the descriptions brought in a white Ford Bronco and asked to have it painted navy blue. I’ve updated the APB—Director, he’s one clever son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Trust me, he hasn’t used half of the tricks in his bag.” Noble harked back to Maryann’s mention of contact lenses found in the toiletry kit in Simon’s duffle bag. However, Simon did not need to wear contacts, so he was either changing the color of his eyes or the retina scan. He enlightened Burke to the fact. “Good work. Are the helicopters in the sky?”

  “Yes, but no sightings as of yet. He could be taking the back roads or traveling at night as I had suggested. But we’ll keep on his tail.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  “Will do, Director.”

  Noble made a mental note to give a heads-up to Enzo about the additional disguises. Burke was right; Simon was smart, tremendously smart, somewhere off the charts. And while every bone in Noble’s body ached to nail Simon, his first priority was to break the code and save the electric grids from shutting down. He was antsy to get his hands on the wristwatch and to hear Stanton’s briefing, hoping other clues would emerge.

  It was 9:50 a.m. Noble continued to stare at the grids with glazed eyes a skosh longer and then removed them from the monitor. He left the conference room to return his breakfast tray to Doris, and he was pleased to see that the major had arrived early.

  “Major, thank you for making the trip.” He shook Stanton’s hand and escorted him back to the conference room. He glanced back toward Doris.

  “I know. Hold your calls.”

  “Director, I take it you’ve been waiting for this?” Stanton handed Noble the watch.

  Noble excitedly turned the watchband over and slid open the panel. “Amazing.”

  “According to our mole, the QR code contains the backdoor code for the Folsom facility only. Simon cleverly changed the code slightly for each facility.”

  “The backdoor code doesn’t concern me except that it may help me to identify the failsafe code that I need to crack.”

  “Of course, you’d have legitimate acces
s to the facilities operating system without needing the backdoor.” Stanton observed.

  “What have you derived from the interrogations?”

  “May I?” Stanton gestured toward the virtual keyboard.

  “Be my guest.”

  The major tapped away furiously at the keyboard until he accessed his cloud and then downloaded a document to display on the monitor.

  Noble studied the screen as the major spoke.

  “Out of one hundred and nine detainees, we were able to ascertain that ten were recruited to provide technical support for the command center. Our mole was the leader of this group. Their job was to build an impregnable communications center for the underground encampment, one that could withstand a bunker buster bomb. We showed several photos of the other detainees to the techies and they identified five that played the role of recruiter.”

  “How were the detainees recruited?”

  “Aside from our mole who was recruited directly by Simon, the others were bombarded with Facebook postings and emails. They were identified through various networking sources; many were disaffected loners. Simon must have targeted countless potentials and selected few. They contacted the recruiter and the recruiter arranged a meeting. Once on board the recruiter presented the required identification; a photo badge from the Department of Homeland Security.”

  “Obviously, Simon’s handiwork,” Noble interjected.

  “They were led to believe they were enlisting in a top secret classified mission sanctioned by the president.” Stanton explained that after they signed on and the training began, they were further misled to believe the mission was to prepare for an impending attack. He continued at length, describing the different forms of training they received and each of the roles they would play. Their testimonies varied, but one point was constant. “They insisted their mission was to protect America.”

  “Do you think it was a ploy? Covering up for some other cause?”

  “I’m not sure, Director.”

  “What about the training materials from the encampment? All the evidence led us to the ‘jihadi cool’ indoctrination and to al-Qaeda.”

  “Director, I teach my men that the way to defeat the enemy is to understand the ideology by which they want to destroy you. You need to get into their heads. They may have been convinced that al-Qaeda was the enemy as a pretense to lure them into the fold. It might explain that damn mantra.”

  Noble kept the questioning going, but he was confident the recruits were part of Baari’s original plan as president, but not important to Simon’s plot, which was taking a different tack. He had deciphered that although Baari and Simon had moved in the same direction, their motives were unrelated. It was purely a confluence of events that complemented his strategy. A significant point, one the major did not need to know at the time.

  “Anything else, Major?”

  “No sir, other than what do we do with them?”

  “Continue to detain them. Do you have facilities to allow them some open space?”

  “Yes, we have a few empty dormitories that aren’t in use.”

  “The detainees who committed the murders in the Dead Zone should continue to be treated as prisoners. I want all other detainees out of confinement and free to speak with one another. Give them some benefits, recreation time, TV’s, you decide. Express regret for having to detain them. Tell them it won’t be much longer.”

  “May I ask what you have in mind, sir?”

  “I still have my doubts, but if they believed their stated mission was to protect the country, then we’ll have to release them. Give them some rope, but have your team keep their ears open. I need confirmation.”

  “What about the mole?”

  “He is another matter. He’s mine for the present. I’ll get back to you.”

  “By the way, the president is pleased that you’ve accepted his offer. However, he’s agreed that you should continue in your present position until we capture Simon or foil his plot. I still need you out in the field.”

  “Yes sir, I understand. I’m in this to win.”

  “I don’t want to keep you Major, I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to Dugway.”

  “Actually, I’m spending the night in Washington. I fly out tomorrow.”

  “Have a pleasant evening.” Noble smiled as he offered a handshake.

  “Thank you, sir.” The major departed.

  Noble glanced at the time. He had one call he to make before refocusing on the dates.

  24

  A WORLD AWAY

  Ciao amico mio,” Enzo groaned. “What a pleasant surprise to hear your voice, even at six o’clock in the morning.”

  “Sorry my friend, I didn’t realize the time. Worse yet, I’m not calling with good news.”

  “Qual è il problema, what’s the problem?”

  “There’s a possibility Simon may be heading your way,” Noble informed.

  Then he proceeded to fill Enzo in on the details concerning the hunt for Simon, but held back on the specifics as they related to the actual plot. Although Enzo was the director of the police services for Interpol, the impending crisis was out of his bailiwick.

  “If we don’t apprehend him before he crosses our border into Canada, he most probably will head for Europe. He will be traveling with a United Nations Laissez-Passer passport, under the name Aadam Ar-Rashid. Simon’s master disguise for Aadam is short curly hair, salt and pepper in color. He will also sport a full beard and wear thick black-framed glasses. I’ll send you a composite drawing.”

  Enzo chuckled. “Mama mia, where did he come up with that name?” He always found Simon’s array of aliases interesting, especially his selection for al-Fadl, meaning the redeemer.

  “This time around he is the righteous teacher. Please update your database and I’ll keep you posted as we move in on his location.”

  “I’ll call it in to headquarters right away.”

  “You’re not in Lyon?”

  “No, I’m in San Marino on business.”

  “San Marino! Don’t tell me Interpol has an office there?”

  “Si,” Enzo announced proudly. “We have a National Central Bureau that works in conjunction with the other three police entities on investigative activities, along with any affair involving public order and national security.”

  Noble remembered from one of Enzo’s impromptu history lessons, while working on the European terrorist events in Lyon, that the Republic of San Marino is the oldest independent city-state in the world. Its first governing body dates back to 1243, although the city’s first historical documents date back as far as 885. “Nice boondoggle, Enzo.”

  “There may only be roughly thirty-thousand inhabitants, but our role is vital in promoting cooperation between San Marino and other member countries. You must come and visit next time you travel to Italy amico mio.”

  “But Enzo, San Marino is not in Italy,” Noble teased.

  They both knew that geographically, San Marino is located in the country of Italy, but technically wedged in between two Italian regions, Emilia Romagna to the northeast and Montefeltro in the Marche to the southwest, and is totally independent.

  “Bravo, you were paying attention. Seriously, San Marino che bellezza. She is a beautiful, charming medieval treasure resting on the top of Mount Titano, with a three-hundred-and-sixty degree view. You can even spot the Adriatic Coast, about a forty-minute drive away.”

  “I would love to Enzo. You may have your wish sooner rather than later, if I don’t stop Simon from leaving the country.”

  “We’ll be on alert, but you’ll capture him this time. And when you do, I have the perfect place where you can buy that dinner you owe me.”

  Noble remembered the outstanding debt, very well. It was offered when Enzo agreed secretly to lend him the use of Interpol’s WAASP, the top-secret prototype for an aerial surveillance system. It had the capacity to detect underground structures at great depths through solid objects, including mountains. The WAASP w
as crucial in determining the exact location of the underground encampment that led to the capture of Simon, the second time around.

  “Let me guess—dinner in San Marino?”

  “When you put Simon away, you’ll be doing the world a great favor. Dinner will be my treat. Besides, you must meet my dear friend Giovanni Righi. He owns Ristorante Righi in the Piazza Libertà next to the Public Palace. The food e fantastico and Giovanni is a prince of a man. It’s the perfect place for a buongustaio, a connoisseur like you.”

  “You’re the food lover Enzo. I’ve never had a disappointing meal in your company.”

  “Then it’s a deal! Wrap up your case and then let’s spend some time together. I miss our conversations and the stories we share about Hamilton.” At the mention of Hamilton, Noble realized how he too enjoyed his time with Enzo. It was a way of keeping his dear mentor’s memory alive. “It’s a deal. I’ll keep you up to date on Simon’s case. Until later my friend.”

  “Ciao amico mio.”

  “Ciao.”

  25

  D-DAY DISCOVERED

  It had been over two hours since Stanton left. Noble was frustrated. He shifted his focus from the dates to the backdoor code. It did not resemble Simon’s past code. He was apprehensive as he remembered Simon’s programming code that unlocked the security code for almost any system he encountered. He called the program NOBLE, a mocking honorarium, meaning No Operands Between Logical Expressions.

  “How clever Simon. But you’ve stumped me this time,” he digressed, knowing his mumblings were out of earshot from Doris. As he continued to focus on the code displayed on the large screen, he found himself fumbling with the watch. “Damn!” He tossed the watch onto the table and stood up. “I need some air.” He hastily passed Doris and grabbed his suit jacket from his office. He made another pass and headed out the door as he announced, “Be back in a while.”

  As he strolled down Pennsylvania Avenue, his head began to clear and his stomach began to rumble, reminding him that time had slipped away since his last meal. He took a few more zigzags, until he found himself standing in front of Starbucks. He did not procrastinate. He headed straight to the counter. “A double espresso and a turkey rustico, please.” Noble was not sure why, but his decisive choices instantly brought back memories of Florence with Hamilton. The time he spent with his mentor before he died was bittersweet. Then he recalled Hamilton’s failed attempt to capture Simon in the Vasari Corridor of the Uffizi Gallery. Simon, it always comes back to you. There will be no peace of mind until you are in my grasp—a thought that haunted him repeatedly.