The Ultimate Revenge

by Sally Fernandez

  When Noble tapped the End key, he noticed a new email had arrived. He had forgotten that his xPhad vibrated just as he stepped out of the helicopter. Now, away from the scene, he casually retrieved the message. “What the…?” he was thunderstruck by what he read; I CONFESS . There was an attachment.

  36

  THE CONFESSION

  Noble waited a moment, wondering if he was ready to read Simon’s exposé from the grave. He anticipated he would need time and concentration to dissect the words of his onetime nemesis. Just then, he spotted an agent coming his way.

  “Director, Agent Burke said you’d be here for a while…”

  Noble cut him off. “Any word on who fired the shots?”

  “Sir, Agent Burke is still interviewing some of the other officers. I’ll let him know you’re awaiting the report. By the way, I’m going to take off to see if I can scrounge up some food for all of us. Is there anything we can get for you?”

  “A large black coffee and a sandwich would be great. I’ll be in the car over there.” Noble pointed to the black sedan nearest the crime scene. I will need to sit down for this one, I’m sure, he thought.

  The agent departed.

  Noble settled into the not-so-comfortable back seat of the car and took time to reflect on the morning’s events. Finally composed, he clicked on the attachment and unfolded his xPhad. On his tablet appeared a lengthy confession. He stared at the first word for a moment, causing a flashback to his Harvard’s days when Simon tagged him with the nickname.

  Lordy,

  It took Noble several more minutes, before he finally ventured on with what appeared to be more of a personal message addressed to him.

  Here is the confession you tried to nudge out of me at Draper, where I admit the repartee was delicious. I also confess a lingering admiration for you and I did not want to leave this world without giving you the answers to your questions. You might consider this my farewell thesis. So sit back my brother, and let me enlighten you.

  First, I want to you know one of my greatest disappointments was your refusal to join us in La Fratellanza. I always play to win and I needed the best team. However, if you are reading this, then my disappointment has been eclipsed by my sudden, unfortunate demise brought on by you, my friend. Please believe me when I say I hold no resentment.

  Simon, why do you feel the need to confess? Noble pondered. Perhaps in his own egotistical way, he needs to remind the world of its great loss. I suspect, Simon, you simply wanted to prove you are smarter than I am. More devious, yes, smarter, no. “Simon, you lost the game,” he mumbled. Noble let out a sigh of satisfaction and then continued to read as he scrolled down the page.

  As an eighteen-year-old college sophomore, I set out on a journey to the Mideast to satisfy my intense interest in the Islamic culture and to find my father. You may be surprised to know that I never knew my biological father.

  It was 1984 when I flew to Karachi. That is when I took the name Mohammed al-Fadl. Within days, I was in the midst of helping funnel arms into Afghanistan to fight against the Soviets. Things began to move at a rapid pace. The fight continued and there were rumblings of a new group emerging, calling themselves al-Qaeda. That is when I had the good fortune of meeting Osama bin-Laden. From our first encounter, I became enthralled. I lost sight of my original mission and with total commitment joined the cause. I spent two years developing a wire-transfer system for Osama’s organization to move funds undetected between Hawalas in the U.S. Over time, I started to question the wisdom of al-Qaeda’s mission.

  Noble laid the tablet on his lap as he remembered the story Max told him about the horrific ordeal Simon’s mother suffered and that Simon was a child of rape. In a way, both he and Simon shared mutual internal strife. It invoked memories of the horrible car accident that took both lives of Noble’s parents while he was attending Harvard. He recalled the kindness Simon showed him during that time. He even loaned him the money for his tuition for the last semester, without which he would not have graduated. On occasion, he pondered as to whether Simon had any culpability in the accident. Years later, he dismissed the possibility—over the past sever al months, the possibility of Simon’s blameworthiness had resurfaced.

  From the corner of his eye, he noticed a welcome sight, as an agent approached with a bag and a large cup. Noble had not been able to sleep on the plane and upon landing before he was swooped up by the helicopter. So much had happened in the course of the morning, none of which included rest or caffeine. He checked the page number of Simon’s confession and expected there were more revelations. He needed to be alert and decided to take a short break.

  “Sir, the best I could do was McDonald’s.”

  He thanked the agent and then without giving it much thought, devoured the burger and fries, and downed the steaming hot black coffee. Finally sated and marginally energized, he picked up the tablet and reread the last statement.

  I started to question the wisdom of al-Qaeda’s mission.

  He ruminated for a moment as he looked over toward the crime scene. Then he took a deep breath and began where he had left off.

  I returned to my studies in the States. Meanwhile, the bombings in Nairobi and Tanzania had occurred, compliments of al-Qaeda, which was gaining strength and stature throughout the Mideast. Through my experience with Osama and the influence he exerted, coupled with my coursework on the teachings of Saul Alinsky, I fixated on one particular quote. At the time, Alinsky was quoting Dostoevsky:

  Taking a new step is what people fear most…They must feel so frustrated, so defeated, so lost, so futureless in the prevailing system that they are willing to let go of the past and chance the future. This acceptance is the reformation essential to any revolution.

  On the other side of the spectrum, when I studied Sharia law I became acquainted with the writings of Sayyid Qutb. He became the genesis of the jihadi movement, spurring al-Qaeda to accept that without Sharia law the Muslim world would not exist. After traveling throughout the U.S., Qutb described the American culture as obsessed with materialism and fraught with injustices. He returned to Egypt, and formed the Society of Muslim Brothers, referred to today as the Muslim Brotherhood. Excerpts of the opening of his book Milestones contain the following view:

  The period of the Western system has come to an end primarily because it is deprived of those life-giving values which enabled it to be the leader of mankind…Islam is the only System which possesses these values and this way of life.

  For the first time, I began to see the marriage of these two dynamic philosophies that were to have a profound influence on my future. Then on the streets of Florence, I heard Hussein Tarishi speak. In a revelation, I discovered how I could realize a great undertaking: to achieve al-Qaeda’s mission without violence. I returned to the states and spent the next two years constructing my plan and selecting the members to help carry out my plot with meticulous care.

  Lordy, you think you understand the rest, but read on my friend.

  Noble smiled at the fact that it no longer annoyed him when Simon referred to him as Lordy. He was not sure if it was because he considered it an endearing gesture from a friend, or because he would never hear it spoken again by his nemesis. Noble readjusted in his seat and continued.

  When I called my La Fratellanza brothers together in Chicago in 2000, they voted unanimously to turn our thesis game into reality. Then after al-Qaeda destroyed the World Trade Center and steered a plane into the Pentagon, I returned to Pakistan, again as Mohammed al-Fadl. I arrived in Kursu and met several of Osama’s followers who remembered me. Once again, I was sitting across from Osama and his two perpetual bodyguards, his inseparable friends since boyhood. I pleaded with him to give up the strategy of blowing up the buildings one at a time. Instead, I lobbied for a strategy to bring America to her knees by destroying the very foundation on which she has built—her government. Attack from “within” as Alinsky espoused. I also stressed that destroying buildings and killing innocent civili
ans would only cement the resolve of the American people.

  My plan fell on deaf ears. They called me an infidel, saying I was doomed to failure. Osama then called for one of the lieutenants to escort me unceremoniously down the mountain.

  A pity bin-Laden died a few months later on December 14, and was not able to see what I had accomplished. The 2011 melodrama of the raid on bin-Laden’s compound was staged by the Baari Administration and the public was content even without a body. I am digressing.

  “Get on with it Simon!”

  Burke suddenly appeared and knocked on the window. Noble realized he must have heard him yell aloud.

  “Everything okay, Director?”

  Noble opened the door, unable to roll down the automatic window and assured, “Everything is as well as can be expected, Burke. What’s up?”

  “I just finished interviewing our agents. Only one admits to firing his gun. He said he fired only one shot toward the suspect when he heard a shot come from the car.” Burke noticed Noble’s expression. “What are you thinking Director?”

  “Let’s wait for the forensic evidence to be processed.”

  Burke then informed Noble that the Mounties had retreated, many of the federal agents had dispersed, and the traffic continued to be rerouted. “Is there anything else you want me to take care of for now?”

  “Just stand by and wait for Max and Stanton.”

  “Yes, sir.” Burke left and walked back toward the yellow tape to speak with some of the other agents milling about.

  Noble gave pause to the agent’s update and then continued to read from the tablet.

  By 2009, I, with the help of La Fratellanza, had accomplished the impossible. Hussein Tarishi, an illegal immigrant, morphed into Abner Baari and was elected to the presidency. I was ready to take it to the next level. Then you chose to round up La Fratellanza and interrogate them, discovering Baari’s true identity. Now you understand the story did not end there.

  Baari was always willing to be manipulated as long as he would acquire the ultimate power. He took direction from Hank without question, as he laid out his own policies, utilized his executive orders freely, and eroded the capitalistic society of the U.S. Then during his second term, he became unmanageable. His ego became elephantine. After years of not caring who pulled the strings, he demanded that Hank give him the names of his anonymous backers. Hank offered up only me. I agreed to meet. That is when Baari laid out his plan. Yes—his plan. I am loath to admit it was brilliant. So together, we began our plan to transform America from within.

  Now here is where it gets interesting.

  Baari was behind this—all along! Noble told himself with skepticism.

  Right now Lordy, you are rather skeptical.

  Simon was always able to predict my reactions. Noble shuddered at the unsettling thought.

  Baari described to me the efforts of two of his major benefactors; he referred to them as the Godfather and the Financier. I could not believe my luck. I am sure your mind is racing, but read on.

  I hate it when he does that, Noble thought.

  Remember after the death of bin-Laden, al-Qaeda became more fanatical and indiscriminate in the violence they undertook. As part of Baari’s strategy, he dismissed their importance and succeeded in changing the American psyche. He was also successful in weaving in his social agenda as he increased the size of government to control many aspects of daily life. He also recognized his days were numbered and that one day, you would be standing on his doorstep calling for his resignation. Which you did! But not before Baari and his benefactors abandoned a public seemingly ripe for revolution, surmising they would be so absorbed with the national calamity generated by Baari, they were incapable of making rational choices. With Baari having already set the stage, I willingly hopped on the bandwagon to take advantage of the situation. For me, it was the perfect solution.

  Baari had prepared for the inevitable, but he had one more self-serving trick in his bag. He wanted to create a national catastrophe by bringing down the power grids in major areas across the country. He was aware that the Tres Amigas Project was about to go online and he planned to use the Superstation to restore the power, confecting the image that he had saved a grateful nation from a disastrous crisis.

  My role was to reprogram the control center’s operating systems and then await his instructions to flip the switch. FEMA and the military would have then stepped in to restore order according to plan. Capitalizing on the public’s fears, Baari would label the event a homegrown terrorist act. He held to his maniacal notion that the American people would be ready to support a revision to the Twenty-second Amendment to allow him to serve a third term to resolve the national crisis. The militia I was training was a backup force to protect him in case of backlash.

  “Fortunately, that plan backfired.” Noble glanced out the car window and noticed the agents standing nearby. Although he was out of hearing range, he suspected they noticed him periodically speaking to himself. He smiled at the thought and then continued to read.

  I concede at times, I questioned the purpose of Baari’s militia, thinking it was to support him in the staging of a coup, something akin to a banana republic mentality. Baari had reduced the U.S. to behaving much like a third world nation, so it held an ounce of plausibility. I had studied enough Sharia law to recognize that when people are at their most vulnerable they can be led with little resistance. When Dostoevsky said, “They must feel so frustrated, so defeated…,” that struck a chord. Baari’s plan to turn out the lights appeared more than plausible. I laid the groundwork for an unprecedented national emergency, which you have now zeroed in on. Even you, Lordy, would have to admit it was brilliant! You should be aware that Baari ripped the blueprint out of the President’s Book of Secrets. You can let Hank off the hook. The underground encampment, identified by the blueprint, is where I also constructed the plan to create the national energy disaster he sought. The location was ideal. He also devoted his efforts to confiscate the surrounding land, to prevent any intrusion by drilling and mining interests.

  Then when Baari resigned and left the U.S., he became embroiled in the Libyan turmoil and adopted their anti-U.S. strategy. He later realized that his original narcissistic plan could still provide value—this time to weaken American resolve. To my surprise, he risked reentering the U.S. and joined me in the encampment. In fact, he left only days before you sent in the troops.

  I owed you for revealing at Draper the planted evidence in your interrogation that implicated me in the European bombings. It compelled me to return the favor with this confession. Actually, the bombings were instigated by Baari camouflaging them to look like attempted assassinations—all as a distraction. The deaths were unintended consequences. I always expected Baari would try to set me up, although he did plan my self-serving escape from prison. I am sure you also discovered that my darling Maryann was an accomplice in my escape, but cut the senator some slack.

  Anyhow, I decided to let it play out. I knew eventually, I would find the right time to exact my revenge.

  Simon’s last statement struck a nerve. Noble remembered the exact words Agent Burke said, He must have died from a ricocheting bullet. After discovering the body, Noble instinctively checked the glove compartment—there was no gun as Maryann had reported. Suddenly, he had a flashback of the moment just before the first shot rang out. Simon pulled his hand out of his pocket. “Son-of-a-bitch. Simon fired the first shot.”

  Noble laid the tablet on the seat cushion and took the opportunity to rub his eyes. He was tired and operating on fumes. The Baari revelations were appalling and the events kept spinning in his head. He rubbed his eyes once again as though he could somehow erase the events from history. Then he picked up the tablet and began slowly to scroll past Simon’s words.

  As I said before, Baari and his handlers deserve the credit for setting the stage. The American citizens are complacent and desensitized to terrorists’ threats, abetted by an administration that repeate
dly dismissed those threats. The American public had capitulated emotionally and believed the government was in complete control and mother government would tend to their needs.

  So when I flipped the switch, it would have been blamed on an unforeseen terrorist attack, immediately weakening the U.S. economy. According to plan, anti-Muslim sentiment would erupt and the U.S. government would be embroiled in a battle with the OIC. They would be forced to abdicate action to the U.N. where the Islamic community would have the greatest sway.

  The final blow in this whole ordeal is that unbeknown to Baari, I discovered the identities of the Godfather and the Financier and their personal quests. You cannot imagine how astonished I was to find out that all three of us were setting out to achieve similar goals, but for different motives. They each wanted to transform America by obliterating her western values and diminishing her influence on the world stage, and to advance the cause of global governance. By hitchhiking on their efforts, I was able to pursue my goal to strengthen the power of the Islamic world, which paradoxically is not their agenda.

  It is almost satirical that I began to help one man to destroy America from within, albeit his reasoning was skewed—but then with the unwitting help of his handlers, I would accomplish my goal with one flip of the switch. It was a win-win for me all the way around.

  “In part Simon, in part.” He fingered the tablet, scrolling to the next page—there was more.

  Your one lingering question must be—what was the driving force behind my actions? This answer will put it to rest.

  The pivotal moment happened on a mountaintop in Kursu. I stared into the eyes of three men as they mocked my plan and called me an infidel. They said I was doomed to failure. From that very moment, I discerned from whence my seed had come. The eyes do not lie. When the trio rejected my proposal—it was as if my father rejected me as his son.