Noble's Quest

by Sally Fernandez

  Noble spoke slowly, selecting his words carefully. “It’s been most enlightening, and I appreciate your taking time to meet with me. Again, it’s imperative you not discuss this matter with anyone. What may seem innocuous may not be, and could do great harm to U.S. interests. The best I can do to help is to discuss the issue with the president, in the hope he can resolve any injustices. It will be up to him to reach out to your cause. We’ll talk again soon.”

  “Thank you, Noble. It’s more than I had expected.”

  Noble nodded in agreement and then looked at the clock on the mantle, hoping all the while that he wouldn’t have to utilize the balance of his time with small talk. Beautiful timing, he thought, as he heard a key turning in the front door knob. Hurriedly, he stood and shook Adams hand, thanked him in haste, and dashed into the bedroom.

  Adam greeted the ladies and complimented, “Your timing was perfect, my meeting ended just a few moments ago.”

  “I hope it was a productive meeting?” Amanda queried.

  “Extremely! I assume you gals had a productive time as well?”

  “Immensely! If you include the delicious food and the fine wine,” Nancy teased knowing full well Adam had not yet had dinner.

  “Let’s not take up anymore of Amanda’s evening. I’m sure she has other things that require her attention,” Adam commented with a devilish grin, which Nancy didn’t spot.

  “I’ll see you in the office bright and early.” Amanda smiled as she walked them to the door. After a polite good night hug, she closed the door behind them and headed for the bedroom.

  17

  FEIGNED IGNORANCE

  After a restless night with Simon uppermost in his thoughts, Noble was once again in his office. He sat back in his chair sipping his usual eye-opening morning coffee and mentally prepared for Hank Kramer. Once a classmate and friend at Harvard, Hank was now a former co-conspirator in a plot to defraud the American people. It was almost a decade earlier when Noble interrogated Hank and the other members of La Fratellanza. Memories of the interrogation were still as fresh as if it had occurred yesterday. Especially Hank’s testimony when he pontificated brazenly. He boasted, with no sign of modesty, that he was the one personally responsible for educating and grooming the former president of United States. Even more enlightening, he claimed to have paved the way for the treasury secretary’s appointment. As it developed, that was the decision that ultimately created the opportunity for Simon to infiltrate the Treasury Department to steal U.S. funds.

  Noble knew he’d have to keep Hank’s trademark bluster on point. In addition, he didn’t trust Hank, and he couldn’t be sure that he’d severed all ties to Simon—a crucial part of his immunity agreement with the SIA.

  “Damn,” Noble blurted out. Startled by the intercom buzzer, he knocked over his cup. A rush of coffee splattered over the file folder lying on his desk in front of him—the folder containing the map of the Dead Zone. In a hasty manner, he readjusted himself in his chair as he reached over to hit the lower left-hand button.

  “Director, Mr. Kramer has arrived,” Doris announced, noticeably perturbed at the visitor’s tardiness.

  Unlike the former administration, when Hank sailed through security, the guards now required him to turn over his smartphone and pager. Hank’s chronic paranoia caused him to suspect that a guard intentionally caused him to be several minutes late. In his mind, the guard needlessly heckled him about the pager being a relic as he worked his way through security. Hank simply retorted that it was a memento.

  “Give me a moment, and then send him in.” Noble had no compunctions about having Hank wait for a few more minutes as he finished dabbing at the folder with stacks of napkins. Then, he heard the door handle click. He dropped the coffee-soaked papers in the waste bin and stood up to greet the former chief of staff, but remained behind the desk and simply shook his hand.

  “It’s been a while, Noble,” Hank commented, as he perused the room. Then, with a touch of resentment, he acknowledged, “You’ve done well.”

  “Please, be seated,” Noble gestured, and then remarked, “I’m sorry you’ve had a difficult time since Baari stepped down.”

  Hank was not the only one touched by the scandal. Various committees repeatedly grilled Noble. In the end, it was determined that his role, unlike Hank’s, had not put the country at risk, although the congressional committees admonished him harshly for creating SAVIOR. Nonetheless, someone had to be held accountable for deceiving the American public. And, with the disappearance of Abner Baari to parts unknown, Hank had become the natural fall guy. Undoubtedly, his prominent status in the administration made him vulnerable. Now, even Hank had misgivings about all the occasions he shared in the limelight next to the president, a position he once coveted.

  “Noble, I’m sure you didn’t order this tête-à-tête because you’re interested in my career,” he complained, obviously annoyed at having been summoned.

  So, he wants to play offense, Noble reasoned. Although he felt only marginally sympathetic toward Hank’s self-imposed predicament, he was superficially acquiescent at times. Wasting no time, he opened the conversation directly and succinctly. “During the Baari administration, the government procured land east of the Great Basin in Utah. What was the basis for that acquisition?”

  “I don’t remember the details specifically, but yes, a lot of land was being appropriated in that section of the country to protect the parkland and wildlife. May I ask what this is about?” Hank inquired casually.

  Noble, ignoring his question, posed another, “Whose idea was it?”

  “It was part of an overall strategy to preserve national monuments.” Sounding slightly exasperated this time, he stated, “Presidents have used executive orders hundreds of times since 1906, when Theodore Roosevelt signed the Antiquities Act into law.”

  “Thank you for the history lesson, but it doesn’t answer the question. Whose idea was it to set aside the land in Utah?” Noble pressed, appearing unruffled.

  “I suppose that particular land was Simon’s idea,” he answered impassively as he diverted eye contact.

  “Simon?” Noble, apparently taken aback, quickly reminded Hank of the immunity agreement.

  “I have not spoken to Simon since he vanished during the financial meltdown.” Now, looking straight at Noble, he alleged, “It was an idea that gelled during the campaign when Simon laid out the plan to appease the environmentalists to curry their votes.”

  “Go on.”

  “He earmarked several acres of land for various reasons. The parcel you referred to was simply one of them.”

  “So Baari was only following Simon’s campaign strategy, relayed by you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why such an escalation of land grabs after Baari took office?”

  “That’s what presidents do!”

  Perfect, I now have him on the defensive. Noble let him continue.

  “Carter was the father of the land grabs. Under his administration, he kicked off the trend by grabbing more than fifty thousand acres in Alaska as federal land. Following suit, Clinton used his executive order—twenty-two times—claiming five-point-nine-million acres to create nineteen new monuments. Having the same insatiable appetite, Baari only continued in the same vein.”

  Noble knew he was making a false argument because other presidents had taken the opposite approach. He recalled that, in 1980, on the eve of Ronald Reagan’s presidential nomination, he announced support for the Sagebrush Rebellion, a group of six western states fighting to take back public lands to promote urban growth through recreational, agricultural, and industrial uses. And, he vividly remembered that in 2006, the Bush Administration attempted to sell some of the national forests back to the states to raise money for the Treasury. The Democratic Congress railed against it, and the House Appropriations Committee refused to grant authority to the administration.

  “Whatever the motives, there is a history of states’ rights over public land. The sel
ective pillaging of the land, placing it in the federal trove, was the issue.”

  Hank had missed the point.

  “The heart of the Great Basin in Nevada was purportedly for scientific research to study climate change. Nine million acres of land were set aside to save the wild horses, and fifty-eight thousand acres in New Mexico were needed to protect the dune lizard and the lesser prairie chicken.” Noble stared at Hank in anticipation.

  “Noble, when did you become so cynical? The intent in using the 1906 Antiquities Act is to preserve our priceless legacy, our wildlife, our national monuments, and our parklands. They imposed the act for scientific, cultural, educational, and ecological studies. Who in his right mind is against that?”

  “Hank, when did you become so altruistic? For that matter, when did Baari?

  Hank didn’t take the bait, and sat back trying to decipher what Noble was really pursuing.

  “Let’s switch subjects for a moment,” suggested Noble, acknowledging Hank’s evasiveness. “Aside from purely philanthropic reasons, what can you tell me about beryllium?”

  Hank cocked his head and, with a furrowed brow, retorted, “Berry what?”

  “Never mind. Did the Baari administration target specific energy-rich land to preserve as natural resources?”

  Hank flinched. His poker face was beginning to fade. “Some of the acres in Utah you mentioned earlier were targeted, among others,” he admitted, meekly.

  “The land Simon targeted—the acreage you convinced Baari to set aside as federal property?” Noble, knowing the answer, summarily fired off another question before Hank had a chance to respond. “Why was Baari so intent on stirring up the Middle-East, further putting at risk our energy dependency on the Arab states?” He wasn’t exactly sure of the relevance of the second question, but he was interested in Hank’s body language, as well as his responses.

  He was sclerotic, without a trace of reaction. Avoiding all of Noble’s questions, Hank asserted without expression, “I don’t understand. The land is now federally owned, Baari is no longer in office, and Simon has vanished.” But, privately, he thought Simon’s past requests on the surface seemed unrelated, until now. Why would Noble bring up the Middle East? He is just fishing. Hank continued to play innocent. “Where are you going with this?”

  Without further adieu, Noble ended the meeting. “Hank, I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time. Thanks for coming in.”

  “That’s it? Thanks!”

  “Okay, how have you been?”

  “Miserable.”

  “I’m truly sorry the press has been so harsh on you, and that the political sharks haven’t let up, if that’s any consolation.”

  Noble stood up.

  Hank took the cue.

  As they headed for the door, Hank turned and offered Noble his hand, along with a parting shot. “It appears Simon is still messing with your mind.” His half-grin immediately deflected Noble’s probing mind.

  Just then, the phone rang and Noble turned to pick up the receiver. When he looked back at Hank, he had already walked out the door.

  18

  TRIPWIRE ACT

  Noble hit the flashing button on his phone and answered his private line. “Max, trust you had a good trip?” he joshed, then waited for the onslaught.

  “Have you ever flown on a military transport? They’re uncomfortable as hell.” Her irritation dripped with each word.

  “You made it there safely,” he pointed out. “Now, are you ready to enter the mine?”

  “Yes, I’m outside the Bell Hill Mine with Agent Burke and four army privates. They managed to get more Segways into the new tunnel using a pulley system, but the old part of the mineshaft can only be managed on foot, so we’ll have to walk the first mile.”

  “Have you patched me in?” he asked eagerly.

  “Turn on the touch-screen monitor and see for yourself.”

  “Hold on a minute. I’m in my office.” Noble put the call on hold and walked into his conference room. He hit the speakerphone button on the other phone and at the same time, turned on the large display. “Wow!” he exclaimed, astounded by the view. “Beautiful country out there.”

  “It’s gorgeous, but there’s some bad stuff happening out here,” she countered with concern.

  “Just be careful, Max.” Noble also sensed some uneasiness but refocused on the screen. “You’re coming through loud and clear and the IMAC is working fine. Move your head around so I can see how the panning works.” The agency was currently testing the latest version of the IMAC, an Internet Microphone and Camcorder device that looks similar to a Bluetooth earpiece. It comes with a built-in webcam, and connects to the Internet wirelessly. “This state-of-the-art technology is amazing.” Even the unflappable Noble was impressed.

  “I know. It operates with an ultra-wide angle optical lens that produces amazing 3-D clarity, and the innovative anti-shaking technology surpasses all other webcam devices.”

  “Now, who’s the techie?”

  “Me! How’s the panning so far?” Max asked, tiring from moving her head about.

  “The panning works fine. It’s so clear, I feel as though I’m standing next to you.” Noble reached for the button on the speakerphone. “I’m letting the IMAC take over now.”

  Max heard the line go dead on her smartphone. She hung up as well.

  The IMAC had successfully synced wirelessly, providing visual streaming on the display monitor. They would communicate orally through the speaker system. “We are good to go!” he called out. All was functioning, so Noble sat back and watched the operation commence on the large screen in front of him. “Do you have that little gift I gave you?”

  “Tucked right here in my pocket. Are you ready to rock and roll?”

  Noble took a deep breath and then cautioned Max again. “We don’t know what we are dealing with. Be careful, and let the soldiers lead the way. You and Burke keep a safe distance behind.”

  “Roger that. Let’s go,” Max ordered, gesturing to the soldiers to enter the mine.

  Noble sat with a touch of apprehension while he watched the entire passage from his conference room. He could see the four soldiers in the lead and could hear Max telling Burke, “Stay close behind.”

  “Noble, is everything okay on your side? We’re descending into the mineshaft rapidly at a sharp angle. I just pray you don’t lose the signal.”

  “Just keep talking.” Noble could see them head down into the mine. Each of them was wearing a hardhat with a headlight. From his view, he could tell they were beginning to level off. The tunnel appeared to be about six feet by six feet. Max, taller than the rest, had to stoop after they entered the mineshaft to maintain a clear vision, sparing Noble a screen featuring only her feet for the remaining miles.

  Thirty minutes into the trek, the view changed dramatically.

  “Noble, are you seeing this?” Max was awestruck.

  “Incredible!” On the large display in front of him was a concrete tunnel, approximately ten feet wide by nine feet high, and fully lighted. He also could see six Segways off to the side. “Are you sure the Colonel claimed this wasn’t part of a military facility?”

  “I spoke to him directly. They have no knowledge of anything like this.”

  “Max, have you ever ridden a Segway?”

  She could hear Noble chuckle and rejoined fearlessly, “No, but it looks like fun.”

  “You’re not there to have fun.”

  “I know—be careful!” she mocked.

  “You should be there in about twenty minutes. Take it slow as you approach the last quarter mile,” Noble cautioned. He continued to fixate on the screen as they sped through what looked to be, basically, a straight tunnel.

  Abruptly, chatter on the other end ceased—all eyes were focused ahead.

  Noble checked his watch and noted that they should be approaching the end of the tunnel within minutes. “Max, are you still there?”

  “What! You can’t hear my heart pound
ing?”

  “Just take it slow and hope Mad Dog worked another miracle. Remember—let the soldiers enter first. We have no idea what is behind the door.”

  “What do you mean hope Mad Dog…”

  Noble cut her off short and responded encouragingly, “You’ll be fine.” Just then, he could see them approach the large steel blast door Agent Darrow had described. To the right was the security pad.

  “It’s show time,” Max whispered, as she dismounted her Segway.

  Noble heard Max in a hushed voice instruct the soldiers to enter first. Then he saw her approach the steel door. As Max looked down, Noble could see her pull the box from her pocket and place the prosthesis over her right thumb.

  “This better work,” Max mumbled, then she looked over toward Burke and the soldiers and said, “Don’t ask.” She took a deep breath and proceeded to place her thumb on the fingerprint pad. Suddenly, a green light flashed. Max inhaled deeply again, took a few quick gulps, and then punched in the numbers 112008. Instantly, a second green light flashed.

  Noble felt as though he was watching the entire operation in slow motion, but it had all taken place with precise timing.

  Quickly, Max reached for the door handle. At that moment, more than just one heart was beating at a fast pace. She stood behind the door, with the agent to her side. The four soldiers positioned themselves on the opposite side, ready to enter. Slowly, Max dragged the handle downward and promptly pulled the steel door in her direction.

  The troops moved in.

  Seconds later, Max and Agent Burke heaved a sigh of relief as they heard someone shout, “All clear!”

  Even Noble eased slightly back off the edge of his chair.

  “Noble, are you still there?” Max spoke softly.

  “I’m watching it all with bated breath. Go easy.”