Climatized

by Sally Fernandez

  “So anyone citing CO2 as the basic source of global warming is crazy?”

  “To be polite—I would say ill informed! There are so many factors that dictate climate change, starting with the normal cycles of the sun and moon and the unpredictability of clouds and rainfall. In the final analysis it makes more sense to adapt our lives to the reality of natural climate change instead of somehow thinking we can alter its outcome.”

  Noble adjusted his position to face Antonio. “Are you suggesting that maybe one day we won’t be growing corn in Nebraska, but Greenland will have a new major export product?”

  “Spot on, Director. In fact, Greenland will be green again, but not due to the CO2 emissions in the air as the alarmists would have you believe. In this case, the melting ice is due to a strong geothermal irregularity from an ancient source of heat deep below the surface.”

  “You give absolutely no credence to global warming?” Max jumped back in.

  “Manmade global warming—NO!”

  “So we just sit back and do nothing to protect our environment?” Noble challenged.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’m a good citizen of the earth and believe in reducing my own carbon footprint. I conserve energy in all possible ways. I use the proper lightbulbs, drive fewer miles, waste less food, as I would encourage anyone to do. However, this push for renewable energy must be evolutionary, not revolutionary. In either case, it’s not going to change the weather.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” Noble pressed.

  “Instead of spending trillions of dollars on green energy to prevent global warming, something we have no control over, we should consider rotating crops and looking for technological alternatives to manage the weather we are dealt. As I stated before, common sense dictates that if we can’t change something we need to adapt. We’re simply investing in the wrong science, but it fits the global warming alarmists’ misleading narrative.”

  “Hey, slow down!” Max was being tossed about each time Antonio rounded a curve.

  “Sorry.” He eased up on the gas pedal, realizing the topic of conversation was juicing up his adrenaline.

  With both the car and Antonio operating on less octane, Noble asked, “Has Harold Doiron affected your rationale?” He saw Antonio react, but evidently he still had his attention.

  “I see you’ve done your homework, Director.”

  Max caught Antonio glimpsing at her again in the mirror. He realizes we knew a lot more about him than just his name. He has to be wondering what else we know.

  Antonio refocused and responded to Noble’s question. “I assume your homework also included Doiron’s group.” Antonio smirked, but then acknowledged, “When Hal first introduced me to The Right Climate Stuff research team, I became captivated by their findings. Some of its members like Tom Wysmuller and Jim Peacock, along with Hal, greatly contributed to solidifying my layman’s views. First and foremost, the science predicting that anthropogenic global warming will produce catastrophic climate change is not settled. There’s simply no resounding evidence to support the theory. On the contrary, a small amount of global warming with more CO2 in the atmosphere will definitely be beneficial to crop production, which goes back to the vast amount of CO2 greening research.”

  “Did you ever meet Jonas’ boss Dennis Avery?”

  “No; why?”

  “Just curious. Avery has made similar assertions.”

  That explains a lot. Antonio kept his revelations to himself. “Doiron’s research team also predicted that the maximum additional rise in temperature by the year 2100 will not exceed one-point-zero degrees Celsius, making the two-degree by the year 2050 threshold established by the Paris Agreement redundant. With their prediction also comes the realization that by the year 2150 all economically recoverable fossil fuels on the planet will have been consumed, which would then make the CO2 argument superfluous.”

  “The attempts to abandon fossil fuels have already been economically devastating.” Noble recalled the turmoil when the prior administrations tried to stamp out the coal-mining regions in the US.

  “Wait! The US government hasn’t finished. They’ll spend billions of dollars more trying to end the use of fossil fuel completely—and centuries from now—their efforts will have no meaningful impact on the climate. Other than to perhaps stunt the growth of our forests and agriculture. Yet, the UN and world governments continue to ignore, for political reasons, the reality-based science in favor of their global-warming theory.” Antonio’s frustration was clear.

  “Obviously the activists are running the asylum.” Max’s failed attempt at levity only perpetuated the conversation and Antonio’s heavy foot on the pedal.

  “Even with their failure to predict the warming effect over the past two decades, they still beat the drums. Although there is reason amidst the insanity. There was another man whom I came in contact with at NASA. Interestingly, I disagreed with his views on CO2 being responsible for global warming, but his view on how to manage climate change are quite enlightening. Are you familiar with a man named Piers Sellers? He’s a British-American meteorologist and a veteran astronaut with three space-shuttle missions under his belt.”

  “His name sounds vaguely familiar,” Noble admitted.

  “Not to me,” Max responded. “Tell us more.”

  “Well, sadly, he was diagnosed with stage-four pancreatic cancer. But what I found encouraging was his perspective. He talks about his ‘God’s-eye view of Earth and his recognition of its fragility. He said that changes in climate are inevitable, sometimes producing disastrous effects, other times positive. But he has faith that ‘new technologies have a way of bettering our lives in ways we cannot anticipate,’ and that ‘there is no convincing, demonstrated reason to believe that our evolving future will be worse than our present, assuming careful management of the challenges and risks.’”

  “But wouldn’t reducing CO2 emissions be managing the challenges and risks?” Max asked.

  “If it were a viable risk, yes. As I said, I disagree with Sellers’ view on CO2 because it’s widely accepted that the earth has different temperatures. Average temperatures are susceptible to manipulation and not a reliable scientific measurement. However, Sellers is correct when he states that new technologies will come along and improve our lives.”

  Noble was puzzled. “Making clean energy cheaper would be a game-changer. In fact, I understand that carbon-capture technology is available, although currently expensive.”

  “Expensive or otherwise, the technology has no valid scientific merit. Of course, that is my opinion,” Antonio admitted. “But the one frustrating aspect goes back to there being no structure in place for dealing with climate-change disparities on a regional basis. All the models are predicated on a global basis.”

  Time passed quickly and the intellectual banter appeared to produce the positive effect. Antonio had become more relaxed and forthcoming. But Max and Noble sensed the question of trust still hung in the balance.

  For the next hour they sat in relative silence as Antonio continued to maneuver the roads Italian-style. Noble took the opportunity to focus on devising a plan. Max dozed on and off.

  Antonio, unexpectedly swerved to the right and pulled into a parking area on the side of the road. Both Max and Noble were startled by the sudden move. Then the car came to an abrupt halt.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Max asked in a half-awakened tone. She edged herself into a seated position and noticed a hill town off in the distance. “Where are we?”

  “That’s Anghiari,” Antonio replied. “Let’s get out and stretch our legs or crutches.” Antonio turned around and flashed Max a smile.

  “Ha-ha.”

  Antonio, in need of moving his own legs, hopped out of the car and walked over to an historic sign that stood along the wall at the edge of a cliff.

  Noble immediately went to help Max. It also provided him a moment to hold her in his arms. He knew she still blamed herself for their predicament and wanted t
o assess how she was doing. “Holding up okay?”

  “I’m ready to kick up my heels—at least one of them.” She smiled and then reached up to give him a reassuring kiss.

  They stayed back a few more minutes to enjoy time alone. Then they went to catch up with Antonio.

  All the while, Antonio pretended he had missed their interlude. When they finally arrived at his side, he proudly explained that Anghiari was known as the site of the famous battle that took place between Florence and Milan in 1440.

  The three of them stood in silence and admired the view until Noble became antsy. “It’s amazing, but we need to get going.”

  “First, we must take a coffee,” Antonio insisted. “Otherwise, Noble can drive.”

  “Splendid idea, the coffee that is,” Max teased, feeling better as she breathed in the fresh crisp air.

  The small café was about fifty feet from where they had parked, which was obviously Antonio’s motive for stopping there in the first place. After Max insisted that she could make the trek, they walked over together. Finally, feeling fully fueled, they got back in the car and continued to tackle the hills.

  Earlier, during the tranquil part of their drive, Noble had conjured up a series of particular questions. Now he chose the occasion to catalog the answers. “Antonio, do you speak any languages other than Italian and English?”

  “I’m proficient in French as well from my time at École Polytechnique.”

  “Where’s your family from originally?”

  “Catania. It’s the second largest city in Sicily, after Palermo.” Antonio wondered what was to be gained by all the personal questions, but he played along.

  “You’ve already told me why you didn’t change your first name when you checked into Capannelle, but why take the name Di Stefano?”

  “It was my grandfather’s family name.”

  Noble persisted with the inquiries for another half hour until Antonio broke off the inquisition.

  “Why all the questioning?” he asked, slightly annoyed at the intrusion.

  Noble didn’t respond at once but then said, “I’m creating your new life.”

  Antonio was speechless. He began to have serious second thoughts about his decision. His mind began to race looking for an alternative solution. But he came up empty—it was his only salvation. He finally decided he had to trust them.

  Max also remained silent but not for any esoteric reason. She was becoming edgy as she continued to watch the scenery whisk by the car window. Her damaged leg was cramping and her mind was focusing on a nice, soft bed waiting for her up ahead. “Are we there yet?” she called out, feeling slightly neglected.

  Providentially, Antonio spotted the sign for the Republic of San Marino. “We’re getting close.”

  “Finally!” Max groaned.

  Without any prompting, Noble switched the topic and took to the virtual podium. He began to relay what geography he had learned from his conversations with Enzo. “Technically, the tiny republic is located on Mount Titano wedged between two Italian regions, Emilia Romagna to the northeast and Montefeltro in the Marche to the southwest, but she still remains independent.”

  “Impressive, Professor!” Max’s sense of humor seemed to have returned as they got closer to their destination.

  “Once we reach the top, we’ll be just over 2400 feet above sea level.”

  “Sounds like the perfect hideaway for the time being.” At least Max desperately hoped so.

  Antonio veered sharply at the fork in the motorway and began the ascent up the twisting country road. Noble and Max braced themselves as the car corkscrewed at a fast pace up the mountain. Fortunately, it would be only minutes before they would walk inside the walls of the oldest independent city-state in the world, dating back to 1243. They also knew there was a possibility they were placing their lives in further jeopardy.

  “Prepare yourselves for a beautiful, charming medieval treasure, as I’ve been told.” Noble kept trying to relieve the tension he sensed they felt.

  “I was under the impression you’ve been here before?” Antonio asked curiously.

  “Enzo has been coaxing me to visit for years, but I’m afraid my travelogue comes only by way of conversation.”

  After rounding the last curve, they had finally arrived at the top of Mount Titano. Following Enzo’s instructions, they located the parking lot next to the Jolly Café outside the walled city and ditched the car.

  “I’m afraid we’ll have to walk from here, but the hotel shouldn’t be too far.” Noble led the way, helping Max with her crutches as they battled the cobblestone street. Once they passed through the ancient walls, they inched their way up a gentle incline and arrived at the hotel.

  Antonio trailed behind carrying the luggage.

  Chapter 37

  THE HIDEAWAY

  “Welcome to the Hotel Titano,” enthused the desk clerk.

  Thanks to Enzo’s influence, the check-in procedure went smoothly with little to no questioning, leaving them all breathing a huge sigh of relief.

  “You’ll find the Cesta Suite at the end of the corridor that way.” The clerk pointed and then signaled the bellman to help them with their luggage. Then he handed Noble the key. “Please follow this gentleman. He’ll take you to your room. I wish you a pleasant stay.”

  The three of them straggled down the hallway and then once safely tucked away in the two-room suite, Noble called Enzo.

  “We’re here.”

  “I trust you didn’t have any difficulty with the usual Italian folderol and you’re all checked in?”

  “No, it all went according to plan.”

  “Good. Now, tell me what I can do?” Enzo had been in the business long enough never to start off with the question “What’s going on?”

  “I need a US and Swiss passport with dual citizenship, a Swiss driver’s license and birth certificate, the usual array of documents. They are for Antonio Di Stefano. He is six feet, two inches tall with dark brown hair and brown eyes. He was born on April sixth, nineteen seventy-five in Bellinzona, Switzerland.”

  “Stop a second! Let me get this all down.”

  “Enzo.”

  “Okay, okay, go.”

  “He speaks fluent Italian, French, and English. Father’s name was Alessandro Di Stefano, first generation Italian, born in New York. Mother’s name was Lena Ottinger, born in Bellinzona where they resided. Both parents died in a car crash in 1990 driving home one evening from Locarno, a neighboring town.”

  “You’ve planned this down to a tittle, my friend. But I’ll still need a photo.”

  Noble looked over at Antonio who had been listening in on the conversation as he nervously flipped through the pages of a magazine. “I’ll send you one in a few minutes.”

  “I’m sure there’s more,” Enzo presumed.

  “I also need one million euros deposited in a Swiss private bank account, along with some pocket cash.” Noble looked over at Antonio. “I think ten thousand will do.”

  “What!”

  “Enzo relax. You’ll be fully reimbursed. You have the president’s word.”

  “And?”

  “A way to get Antonio out of here unseen. I’ll need a fishing trawler standing by in Ancona to take him to wherever he wants to go. Also bring along two secure smartphones with you as well.”

  “Is that all?” Enzo asked, half-afraid of the answer.

  Noble glanced at his watch. It was late and everyone was tired. He would delay the interview until the morning. “I’ll need everything by noon tomorrow. Also I’ll have a parcel that I need delivered to the president under the highest security.”

  “Mama mia, what have you gotten yourself into?” Enzo could no longer hold off. He had to ask the pesky question.

  “Later Enzo.”

  “I thought I’d give it a shot.” Enzo chuckled. “A domani. And don’t forget to send me that photo.”

  “Will do. See you tomorrow.” Noble hung up the phone and then turned to Antoni
o. “How long have you been sporting the circle beard?”

  “For over twenty years. Why?”

  “Go shave it off now. Quickly!” Noble commanded.

  “Oh, no—first my name, now my good looks!” Antonio stomped into bathroom. A few minutes later, he returned looking ten years younger.

  Noble then pulled out his reading glasses and handed them to him.

  “Put them on.”

  “I have twenty-twenty vision and now you want me to look like Woody Allen,” Antonio challenged, but again he obeyed.

  “Perfect!” The horn-rimmed glasses with a medium width frame gave Antonio a professorial look and sufficiently disguised his face.

  “Except I can’t see a bloody thing.”

  “You will. Stand against the wall.” Noble snapped a few shots of Antonio with his xPhad and then forwarded the best photo to Enzo. He attached the following message: Bring along a similar pair of glasses with no refraction lenses.

  Max remained in a reclined position on the sofa, while listening intently to Noble’s conversations with both Enzo and Antonio. She assumed Antonio’s constant joking was an attempt to stifle his anxiety. Now, he spared his audience and began to take it out on carpet threads.

  Chapter 38

  THE LAST SUPPER

  “It’s late, and we could all use a good night’s sleep before the interview,” Noble suggested. “We’ll start first thing in the morning—now, who’s hungry?”

  Two hands shot up in the air.

  “I noticed a pizzeria across the plaza. And considering I’m the only one that’s not being hunted down, I’ll go fetch dinner,” Noble volunteered.

  “Pepperoni for me,” Max requested.

  “Ha-ha,” Noble chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Pepperoni doesn’t exist here, but peperoni with one ‘p’ means red peppers, not salami. And I know how much you like peppers.”