“You’re right! You’ve earned it Max,” was all he said.
She smiled in relief. Then her joyful expression waned as she said, “My speculations may simply be grand allusions.”
Noble, maintaining his composure, said, “Sometimes allusions can lead to conclusions.”
34
DAY SIXTY-ONE
The night sky was blacker than black, except for the crescent moon and a single star. The streets were desolate and the only sound was the hum of his engine. He had been driving for over four hours; he had five and a half to go. He decided to drive for one more hour and then take a quick pit stop. By his estimate, he would be across the border by ten-thirty a.m. He counted on the Monday morning traffic to work in his favor. One more facility and he would be finished—mission accomplished.
Noble rolled over at the sound, robbing him of his first good night of sleep. The clock read 3:00 A.M. He grabbed his xPhad and grumbled, “This better be good.”
“We have a Simon sighting!” Burke exclaimed.
Noble bolted upright, “What have you got?”
“Evidently, Simon checked out of a Super 8 Motel around midnight. Get this—he was looking like his old self, obviously feeling confident. But the night clerk remembered seeing his photo posted in a local establishment and called the sheriff; he called us.”
“Burke, where?”
“Defiance, Ohio!” he bellowed. “Can you believe it, Defiance?”
Noble heard Burke chuckle from the other end of the line.
“Simon’s having fun with us. He’s close to the end of his mission, so he is just playing a little cat and mouse game. It’s obvious he wants us to believe he is heading toward Buffalo.” Burke sounded as though he was talking from an echo chamber. “Where are you?” Noble asked.
“Hovering over holy Toledo!”
“Now who’s trying be funny?”
“Seriously, I’m in the helicopter. We’d been searching the roads up toward Sarnia when I got the call.”
Noble wiped the sleep from his eyes, while at the same time formulating a plan.
“Director, can you hear me?”
“Hold on—meet me in Cleveland in two hours. Have the helicopter standby and be ready to take off at five a.m.”
“Director, the quickest way over the border is across the Peace Bridge in Buffalo.”
“Agreed; if we don’t catch him before he reaches the onramp, the bridge is our best option to seize him in the U.S. Have everyone ready to move into place.”
They were both aware that the Peace Bridge is an international bridge between the United States and Canada. It is located at the east end of Lake Erie, the source of the Niagara River, and about 12.4 miles upriver from Niagara Falls.
“See you in a few hours.” Noble hung up and called Max.
“Who is it?” Noble heard a voice say in the background. It was not Max’s.
“Noble, it is three fifteen in the morning.”
“My apologies, but I need you to get to the office and set up a command post.” He filled her in on the events, the call from the sheriff, and his plan to meet up with Burke in Cleveland. “Max, determine the various routes Simon might take to get from Defiance to the Peace Bridge. Consider all highways, byways, toll roads, and back roads. Calculate the shortest distance and get back to me as soon as you can.”
“Why did he choose that border crossing? It will take him several hours longer to reach his destination.”
“Because he assumed that we’d think he’d take the fastest route and head to Sarnia.”
“Noble, I think we should also check all seaplane operations heading into Canada and have the coast guard on alert. Remember Lackawanna?”
Max knew Noble would recall how security had tightened around the Buffalo area after an al-Qaeda cell was arrested in Lackawanna, a neighbor of Buffalo, in September of 2002. The members of the cell were naturalized American citizens of Yemini descent.
“Good call; gotta go!”
Noble hurriedly dressed and headed for the door.
Noble stepped out of the company jet and spotted Burke standing outside the helicopter. He quickly rushed toward the agent. “Has everyone been alerted?” he asked in a loud voice, compensating for the blades that rotated precariously over his head.
“Director, I arranged for the Buffalo police to begin rerouting traffic away from the Peace Bridge. The border patrol is on alert and the Mounties and the feds are standing by awaiting orders.”
“Good work. Let’s go!” he shouted.
Burke and Noble hopped into the helicopter and headed east. During the first hour, the roadways were only sprinkled lightly with vehicles.
“Simon, where are you?” Noble mouthed, but no one took note, distracted by the whirling sounds overhead.
“All we’ve seen are truckers!” Burke yelled, forgetting it was no longer necessary inside the copter.
They continued to study the road for any signs of Simon’s car.
Noble’s xPhad vibrated. He tapped the Answer key. “Max, we’ve been up here for an hour and nothing but semi-trucks and trailers have been traversing below. Give me something to go on.”
“Noble, I’m sure he will continue to avoid toll roads, especially if he discovers you are following him in a helicopter. He’ll likely choose a route that will make it more difficult for you to land. My best guess is that from Defiance he will take US-20 that cuts in and out of back roads. Once he hits Pennsylvania, keep your eye on PA-5 until he reaches the New York Stateline. Simon will avoid the Interstate until the last possible moment. Follow US-62 North through Lackawanna. I emailed you the directions, along with other options. Go get him, boss.”
“Good work, Max. Standby, I’ll get back to you.” He hit the End button. “Where are we?” Noble asked the pilot.
“Director, we’re approaching Mentor. That’s US-20 below us.”
“Do you have enough fuel to go the distance?” Burke asked.
“Yes sir. The whole trip is less than two hundred miles. This baby is good for over three hundred. No sweat.”
Noble discussed Max’s options with Burke. “Her instincts are generally on the mark.”
“I agree.” Burke instructed the pilot to take US-20 to PA-5 and then cut over to US-62 heading north.”
“Okay everybody, we’re looking for a silver Dodge Challenger,” Noble reminded them.
It was 6 o’clock in the morning and they had spotted only a few cars among the trucks, none of which fit the description. Noble and Burke were becoming antsy. Simon could be across the Peace Bridge and in Canada before lunch. They had four hours to capture him. It would be their last shot at keeping him out of Canada’s welcoming arms where he would be able to avoid extradition.
Excitedly, Noble shouted. “There!” He spotted what resembled Simon’s car. “Can you get a little lower? But don’t spook him.”
Burke directed the pilot to fly close enough to force the driver to look out at them, and then he immediately turned on the surveillance camera.
The pilot swooped down.
“Got it,” Burke said.
“Pull back. I don’t want a chase scene,” Noble ordered.
Burke was successful in snapping a photo of the driver using the 2100-mega pixel camera, and then zoomed in on the suspect on the display screen. “I love this technology. It feels as though we are standing next to the guy. Evidently, he hasn’t shaved.”
“That’s him. That’s Simon,” Noble confirmed.
“If it is him, he’s in a disguise we don’t on have on record. Are you sure Director?”
“There is only one person I know with that unmistakable signature grin.” Noble continued to focus on the face on the screen. “Where are we now?”
“We are passing through Ashtabula on US-20. Shortly, we’ll be crossing into Pennsylvania and approaching PA-5.”
Noble and Burke discussed the possibility of landing the helicopter and cornering Simon, but the options were rapidly becoming l
imited. The traffic was starting to build up as the day edged into the hour of the Monday morning commute. They feared Simon was armed and considered the possibility that he rigged his car to explode. Simon had nothing to lose—he was desperate.
“We’ll take him on the bridge,” Noble announced.
Burke got on his phone and began to issue orders. In the meantime, everyone kept their eyes on Simon’s car. The pilot followed instructions and veered off occasionally, and then returned for a flyby so as not to lose sight of him.
“Director, we are approaching Lackawanna. He is less than a half hour from the bridge.”
Noble and Burke were tense, each taking turns from glancing at their watches to eying Simon’s car in the distance.
The pilot was completely at ease and seemed to be enjoying the chase. “There he goes. He’s picked up speed. Look! He’s veering onto I-90.”
Simon had arrived at the ramp entering the bridge. “Get everybody in place,” Noble ordered. “He’ll be trapped with no way out. This time I’m taking no chances.”
Burke got on his phone at once. He called out, “Move in!”
35
A BRIDGE TO NOWHERE
Simon had spotted the sign for Exit 9 seconds before the GPS railed out the next set of instructions in military style, Peace Bridge Fort Erie Canada. Following the electronic voice, he quickly veered onto the northbound off-ramp. He heard the helicopter again hovering about, but he had no choice—he had already entered the ramp. Within minutes, he was on the bridge speeding past the tollbooths, positioned to process the passengers entering New York. As he glanced to his left, he noticed the absence of other vehicles. No one was waiting in line for the mandatory customs inspection—and there were no other cars ahead of him either. His ears pricked as his sensors warned him something was seriously wrong. He soon approached what appeared to be the center of the empty bridge.
He slammed on the brakes, stopping short.
Then with reluctance, he forced himself to look in his rear-view mirror. Stretched across the three-lane highway was a threatening cordon of federal agents. Checking the opposite end of the bridge, he clearly viewed an identical line of Mounties at an equal distance, blocking his only access to the Canadian border. He felt as though he was standing near the fifty-yard line, with no place to punt. “Shit,” he snapped. He stood in the midst of contemplating his rapidly disappearing options, while his fate hung in the balance.
Without warning, a familiar voice resonated from a hovering helicopter.
“All parties stand back and hold your fire—I repeat—hold your fire. This is SIA Director Bishop. Do not approach the suspect. That is an order.”
Simon was so stunned from the sound blasting from the bullhorn he almost ignored the whirling sound of the blades. The helicopter had touched down in front of the row of federal agents standing ready, adding to his apprehension. Now, men prepared to shoot on order, blocked his only escape routes at both ends of the bridge. Simon’s options had come to an abrupt halt. He quickly glanced to the passenger side of the vehicle and then through the rear window. He caught a glimpse of Noble as he stepped out of the helicopter and walked toward him. Desperation took over as he reached for the door handle and stepped out of the car.
Noble immediately issued orders once again, for everyone to stand back. Then he stopped within thirty feet of his longtime nemesis. He locked eyes with Simon. He had an eerie premonition it would be the ultimate faceoff. Slowly, Noble removed his jacket and handed it to the agent standing close by. Then he carefully raised his arms, brandishing no weapons, and walked closer and closer. “See, I’m not packing,” he shouted.
Simon remained frozen in his stance, staring back while reassessing his options. His patent Cheshire grin was absent; only an odd expression shrouded Simon’s face.
“It’s over Simon. Please come with me and no one will be hurt. It’s not worth it.” Noble spoke calmly as though he were talking a friend off a ledge. After all these years, it is finally over, he thought, simultaneously feeling a pang of sympathy.
Suddenly pandemonium erupted.
Simon yelled, “This is it!” He quickly peered toward the passenger’s seat for the last time and pulled his hand out of his right pants pocket.
In a resounding crescendo, one shot rang out unexpectedly and then in an instant another shot pierced the air.
“Hold your fire,” Noble screamed.
Everyone obeyed orders and stood down—there were no follow-up shots.
All eyes watched seemingly in slow motion as Simon, obviously wounded, staggered toward the bridge railing. When he reached the side of the bridge, he placed one leg up onto railing and rolled over his body without a sound. A trail of ruby red droplets marked his path.
Noble was temporarily in a state of suspended animation. Simon had deprived him of the long sought-after capture he envisioned. This is not a befitting end to Simon’s life, he mused, as he tried to grapple with what had occurred. Confirming all doubts, he dashed toward that point of the bridge. He looked down over the railing. All he could see was a black hole, reliving his recurring nightmare—but there was no face staring back. Noble forced himself out of his momentary lapse and refocused on the source of the shots. It was difficult to decipher who pulled the trigger—but the sight of Simon taking his grand leap was undeniable.
On impulse Agent Burke, who had been standing by the helicopter, ran to Simon’s car. He quickly ordered his agents to seal off the area around the crime scene and instructed them to encompass a wide area. He immediately alerted the U.S. Coast Guard stationed a few miles south of the bridge to embark on a search for the body without delay. As the crime scene was cordoned off completely with the familiar yellow tape, Burke eyed Noble hightailing in his direction. Briskly, he raised his hand and halted his approach. He then walked toward Noble and prepared the director for another shock.
“Director, there’s something else you must see.” He motioned with his hand as he walked back toward the car.
Noble followed in an uneasy lockstep, curious as to the agent’s resolve.
The other federal agents awaited further orders.
The Mounties stood back as well, having agreed not to interfere with a crime scene that had occurred on the U.S. side of the bridge. Burke had already been in touch with the senior officials who agreed to allow the feds to determine the next steps.
Noble used caution as he leaned over to peek into the car. Slumped over in the passenger’s seat lay a body with the face pressed into the knees and a single bullet hole in the left temple.
“There’s no pulse,” Burke informed. “I suspect he was killed instantly by a ricocheting bullet.”
Noble stood upright and shouted, “Everyone stand back!” Then he looked head-on at Burke standing to his side and ordered, “Keep everyone outside the tape. Agent Burke, please stand away as well.” Noble held out his right hand to receive the pair of latex gloves Burke handed him and then turned toward the car.
Burke, without haste, followed Noble’s directions and cleared all personnel from the scene.
As Noble pulled the gloves on, he leaned into the car once again and stared at the corpse. Even with a full head of white hair and a long beard, there was something unnerving about the body. Noble’s heart pounded. He proceeded to walk around to the other side of the car as he heaved several shallow breaths to ease the tension. Then he opened the door on the passenger’s side, reached in to lift the corpse’s head, and peered into the dead eyes. Once again, the tension returned. He too checked the victim’s pulse to confirm the unthinkable. Then without hesitation, he grabbed his xPhad and hit the speed dial.
“Max, I want you and Stanton at the Peace Bridge in Buffalo straightaway. The company jet is headed back to Washington. Call the pilot, have him refuel and head this way.”
“What’s happening, Noble?”
“Just get to the Buffalo Niagara Airport A-S-A-P. I’ll send a helicopter to pick you up. And tell Stanton to bring his
forensic bag of tricks—and a body bag.”
“Simon?”
“No—he decided to take a hundred foot plunge off the bridge. His body should be floating over the Niagara Falls by now and down the Niagara Gorge. If the fall didn’t kill him, the Falls will. I’ll explain everything to you when you get here. There’s no time now.”
“If it’s not Simon, then who’s the dead one?”
“Max, I want the body and the evidence collected and back in Washington this evening. No one is to know what you’ve uncovered.”
She persisted, “Noble—who’s the corpse?”
There was complete silence except for Max’s bated breath as she anxiously waited for the I.D. She sensed it was bad.
Noble eyed Burke standing guard. He then moved away from the car and walked over to the railing for privacy. “Max—it’s the former president—Abner Baari.”
“Abner Baari! What the hell was he doing there?”
“I’ll clue you in when you arrive. Hurry!”
“Burke—Max and Stanton will manage the crime scene with your help. Please send the helicopter to pick them up at the Buffalo Niagara Airport; they should arrive within the hour. I want you to keep other law enforcement officials informed, but do not reveal anything about the corpse. Also, identify the trigger-happy agents who fired the shots. Use your charm when it comes to the Mounties.”
“Yes sir, but what about the body, Director?”
“No one is to go near it—no one!” Noble glared until it was clear the agent understood his orders.
“Yes, sir. Will you be leaving on the helicopter?”
“Not now, I’ll wait for Max and Stanton to arrive.”
Noble walked away and stood off to the side against the railing, far from the corpse, but within eyeshot of the crime scene. From time to time, he would peer over the side at the fast moving waters a hundred feet below, half-expecting to see Simon’s face sneering back. Still in disbelief, but with an odd sense of relief, he placed a call to Enzo and filled him in on the demise of Simon Hall. He ended the call by stating, “It’s finally over, my friend.”
The Ultimate Revenge Page 22