Redemption

by Sally Fernandez

  The guys, without giving it a second thought, pushed their tablets and papers aside and made room for their dinner trays. Then, before Jax had the opportunity to set the last tray down, the others had already begun to feast.

  “Hey, where did you get a name like Jax?” Seymour asked, in between bites.

  “Funny you should ask. My poker buddies gave me that name. It rather stuck.”

  The others gave their forks a momentary rest, curious as well.

  “You see, I was known for holding on to the jacks. Much to their chagrin, I’ve pulled out a lot of flushes and quite a few straight flushes in my day.”

  “Kind of hard to have a poker face with a name like that,” Hank suggested.

  “Sure is, that’s why I tell any newcomer that Jax is short for Jackson.” He winked. “Now you all keep my secret, you hear?”

  They all had a good chuckle but then quickly put their forks back to work.

  “You fellas enjoy your meal now. And don’t forget, tomorrow’s laundry day.” Jax turned and offered a backhanded wave as he exited with the metal cart in tow.

  The usual chitchat, aside from the day’s topic, continued around the table, mostly involving teasing one another about anything innocuous. Then, as the hour ticked by, the food was devoured, except for a few sips of wine they had savored.

  While they polished off what remained in their glasses, Noble reminded them, “Tomorrow morning the president will be calling in for an update, so don’t forget to change your socks.”

  “Other than recapping our discussions over the past few weeks, is there anything you think we should add?” Chase asked.

  “Not for now. At this point, we’ll just tell it like it is. But Chase, as agreed, you should take the lead and fill him in; we’ll stand by for questions. And Seymour, please be prepared to describe your media blitz.”

  “I’m good to go.”

  “Me too.”

  “Then, gentlemen, let’s call it a night.”

  24

  THE PRESIDENTIAL UPDATE

  “Get settled; we’ve got five minutes.”

  While this illustrious group organized itself and finished off the last sips of their eye-opening coffee, Noble reached over for the remote and turned on the large monitor.

  “Are we ready?”

  No sooner was the question posed than a voice came through the speaker system. “Good morning, gentlemen.” Up on the monitor sat the president at his desk in the Oval Office.

  “Good morning sir,” came a round of voices.

  “Let me reiterate once more,” the president spoke, in a solemn but earnest voice, “you have my greatest appreciation and my full confidence that you will deliver the solutions necessary to pull our country from the edge and restore the people’s faith in their government.”

  It was clear from the expressions on their faces that they each felt the gravity of the situation.

  Then, knowing the president’s time would be limited, Noble said, “Sir, Chase is prepared to give you a brief outline. Then we’ll be happy to answer any questions.”

  Chase picked up on his cue and began to provide the update. “Mr. President, we are making progress,” he affirmed. “It’s abundantly clear the current unemployment situation has the potential for further volatility. With the lagging economy and a predominantly low-wage workforce there are not enough jobs to lift the American workers out of their current doldrums. And with the current government restraints on small businesses and corporations, we can expect to see further downsizing. Without some relief, companies will be forced to reinvent themselves. While we touched on retooling the workforce, it’s something that must be seriously addressed. There is no doubt that the American worker must get back to work. Tomorrow will be our first real opportunity to dissect one of the major forces we have identified as part of the conundrum, the Universal Healthcare Act.” He paused, awaiting a response from the president.

  “Is there anything I can do to further your progress?”

  “Sir, we have a good handle on the job market and the impact of immigration, along with the implications of the increase in the minimum wage. But we feel there are other areas still up for debate that will hold some answers.”

  The president sat upright and began to fire off a series of questions, mostly related to the job numbers and whether they could be relied upon.

  Chase, along with the others, provided the answers, as best they could, until no more questions were forthcoming.

  “Anything else to report?”

  “Sir,” Noble responded, “Seymour has begun to design a communications campaign to coincide with any strategy you will implement. He is prepared to give you a rough outline if you have the time.”

  “Talk to me, Mr. Lynx.”

  Seymour stiffened in his chair. “Sir, on the Monday before your speech, I’d like to suggest that your press secretary leak to the media that you will be speaking to the nation to appeal to the American people for their support. We can provide the specific wording once we formulate the plan.” Over the course of the next five minutes, Seymour detailed his Renaissance 2017 Project, including the infomercials and the website.

  The president listened, appearing pleased at the conceptual design. Though neither endorsing nor renouncing Seymour’s strategy, the president allowed, “I’ll look forward to your final proposal. Is that all gentlemen?”

  “Yes, sir,” Noble replied, speaking for all in the room.

  “Good luck. I’ll speak with you soon.” The monitor went blank.

  The group remained in their chairs, mesmerized, for the moment. However, the sense of doubt on their faces remained.

  “C’mon, what’s going on?” Noble asked, trying to pull them out of their fog.

  Chase was the first to respond. “We’ve been here for three weeks. That’s all we had to offer?”

  “There are no easy answers. It’s a building process.”

  “Chase is right. We are supposed to be the smart ones. What are we missing?” Paolo asked.

  “The pressure is on guys; let’s move it along.”

  “That’s not helping, fratello; excuse me, Director.” Paolo flashed the I’m sorry look. He knew not to make it personal.

  “I was mistaken,” Seymour admitted. “Perhaps we need to go back and look more closely at the specific parts of the immigration and minimum-wage policies. We need to find the direct link that is impeding the job market. There are many related but indivisible factors that must be taken into account.”

  “I agree. It’s worth the investment,” Noble allowed, and then he divvied up the assignments. “Why don’t you and Paolo take immigration? Hank work with me on minimum wage. And Chase, you run over the jobs numbers again, and make absolutely sure that we’re making the correct assessments.”

  Everyone agreed with the approach, and that they were moving in the right direction.

  “Refills anyone?” Hank asked, with coffee cup in hand, as he headed toward the kitchen.

  “Hey everyone,” Noble called out. “Don’t forget, first thing in the morning we will begin to tackle the eight-hundred pound gorilla, the Universal Healthcare Act. And for anyone who is tempted, there’s no escape from here.” His humor did not go unappreciated.

  While everyone was busy getting his caffeine fix, Noble excused himself. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  They had learned not to question his sudden disappearing acts, knowing he was the only one with the luxury to step out of captivity.

  Once outside the Crystal Palace, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the secure sleeve and inserted his xPhad. Now his smartphone could break through the security and function within the facility on a secure line. He tapped at the options and retrieved his messages. Several were from Max. He quickly decoded her last message; it read, “call immediately.”

  25

  A CALL FROM NOWHERE

  Noble, where the hell have you been? I’ve been waiting for your call for days.”

 
; “Calm down, Max; I just received your messages.”

  “Are you calling from a secure line?”

  “Yes, boss, as agreed,” Noble teased. “Now, what’s so urgent that you think you couldn’t handle it on your own?”

  “Have you heard that Natalie’s been robbed? Are you aware Amanda’s a victim of identity theft?” she blurted out in rapid succession.

  “Hit the brakes and tell me what happened.” Noble insisted, attempting to steady his voice.

  Max proceeded to fill him in on her conversations with both Natalie and Amanda.

  “The entire art collection?”

  “I’m sorry. I know they were prized possessions you and Natalie retained from your parent’s estate. I sent our forensic team over, but you know how these cases go. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Noble was disheartened, but remained controlled. “And Amanda?”

  “You know better than anyone that identity theft always falls back to the victim, leaving it up to them to sort out their financial affairs. I gave her the usual list of things she needs to do and asked her to call me if she needed any more help.”

  Max gave him a moment to digest the events at hand, before she unleashed more information that wasn’t going to make him any happier. “Noble, I find it peculiar that both you and Paolo happen to be away at the same time.”

  “Max, your imagination is running wild again. I simply needed time away and Paolo got an assignment with a major client.”

  She took a deep breath but wasn’t backing down. “Kramer also happens to be away for an extended period of time.”

  “Kramer. What are you suggesting?” Noble tried to sound impassive.

  “That all of your disappearing acts are connected.”

  “Leave it alone, Max.” Damn, she was good. She must have bloodhound genes, he mused, and then tried to divert the interrogation. “Don’t you believe in coincidences?” he asked in a more jocular manner.

  “No, Noble—I don’t—and neither do you. So don’t play me.”

  “Max! I’m shocked you would suggest such a thing.”

  She knew that was his way of saying “back off.” Naturally, Max persisted. “You yourself told me that Kramer was a member of La Fratellanza. Are Paolo Salvatore, Chase Worthington, and Seymour Lynx also members?”

  Noble was not surprised that she would sniff out the connections, but stunned that she made it in record time. Thankfully, she was not able to view his expression. Without confirming or denying, he asked, “What led you to such an outlandish conclusion?”

  “First, two people you are close to were vandalized. Second, Paolo and Kramer departed to places unknown, as you did. Both of them were members of Baari’s election campaigns and members of his administration. As you would expect, I was curious as to what the other president’s men were up to, so I called their homes.”

  “And?” Noble asked with trepidation.

  “According to his wife, Worthington went back into rehab. She was quite open and willing to share personal information. I guess being the sitting director of the SIA has some cachet.” Max pressed on. “Lynx’s wife explained that he was out of the country working on a documentary and was not expected back for some time.”

  “So, what’s the problem? They’re plausible explanations.” Noble held back from seeming overly curious, but he was certainly interested as to where she was heading.

  “I also discovered that Worthington’s wife had reported to the local police that someone was siphoning money out of their bank account. Lynx’s wife was also worried because she has been receiving obscene phone calls day and night, many of which her children have answered.” Max theorized, “Somebody’s messing around with these families, all of whom have a connection that leads back to you.” She waited for his response. None came. “I’ll ask you again—are these members of La Fratellanza?”

  Noble diverted the question a second time. He surmised that she already had the answer. “Max, focus on the crimes. Work with the local police to see what they’ve uncovered. Then use whatever resources you need to track down the perpetrators.”

  “Maybe there’s only one,” she remarked brazenly. “Simon’s body was never recovered.”

  “Max, don’t let your imagination run wild again. You’ll find that it’s a mere coincidence these crimes have been perpetrated against these families.”

  “I don’t believe it, nor do you,” she said without hesitation.

  “Are you suggesting Simon is getting back at them from the grave?” He shuddered at the thought.

  “Noble…”

  He interrupted, hating that he posed the question. “Max, focus on the crimes. I must go. I’ll call you later.”

  “Noble!”

  The line went dead.

  She sat at her desk and fumed for a few minutes more until she got her ire out of her system. Then she began to wonder what Noble was really up to and wished he were there. She was able to manage on her own, but she just wanted to know he was not in danger. All of a sudden, Stanton flashed into her mind. She quickly looked up at the wall clock.

  “Dammit, I’m late again.” She grabbed her coat and rushed out of the office.

  26

  HOODIE BEWARE

  Max walked into the Blackfinn and noticed Stanton sitting on his usual barstool. As she approached, she began immediately with an apology. “I’m sorry about the other night.” Then furthering her request for forgiveness she leaned in for an affectionate hug and a discreet kiss.

  It was willingly accepted.

  “Feeling better?” Stanton asked as he reluctantly pulled away.

  She half-smiled and admitted, “No.”

  “What’s going on now?”

  Max was unable to reveal her suspicions about La Fratellanza, but she was able to clue him in on the suspicious crimes occurring to the families of Baari’s political campaign staff, and of course, to Amanda. She sketched out the details.

  “Simon? This new responsibility is obviously taking a toll on you. That’s insane.”

  “Hear me out. All logic points to him being dead, but he could have directed someone, in the case of his death, to carry out these revenge acts. It’s all within the realm of possibility.” She seemed to have gotten his attention.

  “Okay, lay it on me.”

  “I know it’s no longer part of your official duties, but I could use your help. If I hand over copies of the interrogation reports you conducted at Dugway, would you determine if anyone fits the profile?”

  “Off the top of my head, the only one I recall who had a direct connection with Simon was the mole and he’s behind bars. I’ll run through them again. But it will take a little time to sift through the data.”

  “Great! You’d have a better fix on the detainees than anyone. I appreciate it.”

  Max knew he was privy to firsthand information, having been the one to interrogate the prisoners captured from the underground encampment during Operation NOMIS. The prisoners were followers of Simon who had been recruited and trained to serve as a militia, as part of his plan to shut down the national power grid and darken the nation. Regrettably, one prisoner escaped. Simon craftily walked out of the maximum-security prison in Draper, Utah where he had been detained.

  Stanton was relieved they seemed to be back on track. Both personally and professionally.

  Max, satisfied that she had enlisted his help, switched the conversation. “So what have you and the prez been up to these days?”

  “Ah, today was education day—his education. We visited a traditional elementary school and a charter school where he spoke with several of the children at the sixth-grade level. Then he visited two families who homeschooled the children.”

  “That sounds exciting,” she droned.

  “Surprisingly, the conversation was quite enlightening.”

  “I assumed he discussed the Basic Core standards?” They were both aware that its predecessor, Common Core, crashed and burned within the first year of implementation.
Basic Core was a somewhat improved version. However, the verdict was still out as it limped along.

  “Naturally, it was the topic of discussion.”

  As Stanton rattled off several areas of controversy in great detail, Max sat back sipping her beer as she listened with interest. She was always impressed with his acumen on a wide variety of subjects. But as she was about to reengage on a different topic her eyes trailed toward the end of the bar.

  “Max, am I boring you?”

  “There’s Mr. Hoodie again.”

  Stanton glanced over and saw a tall person with a hoodie and dark glasses. As he was about to stand up from the barstool, the mystery figure turned and walked out the back door. Stanton headed in the same direction.

  Max followed closely behind.

  The door led out to a deserted alley behind the Blackfinn. There was no one in sight.

  “Let’s go back inside. I’m assigning an agent to keep an eye on you. It’s time for some counter-surveillance.”

  “Absolut…”

  Stanton cut her off. “Max, I insist.”

  She refrained from taking issue in the hallway and abruptly turned to head back to her bar stool. Then she lifted her beer mug as if she were about to make a toast and announced, “I insist you leave this alone. After all, how would it look if the deputy director of the SIA couldn’t insure her own protection? It would also hinder the cases I’m working on. Agent, you do what you do and leave me to handle my job.” She reached over and clinked his beer bottle, as if to say, “subject closed.”

  Stanton knew when Max got her back up there was nothing he could do to convince her otherwise. She’s right; she can take care of herself. Maybe it’s the black belt that gives her such confidence, he thought, hoping his words would not come back to haunt him.

  “Deal?” she asked, lightening her tone.

  “Deal.” And he sealed it with a kiss.

  27

  IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE?

  Tensions were running at full speed as the clandestine group rolled into day twenty-four. They continued to press hard on a variety of peripheral issues hitting the job market. Then, days after laboriously dissecting the Universal Healthcare Act, they came up empty.