“You really don’t believe it was a mistake?”
“At this point I’m playing it both ways. We’ll wait for the WAASP and see if the photos corroborate the information we have thus far.”
“Okay, I’ll go through each of the files and see what other surprises he has in store for us,” she volunteered.
“I’ll need time to decipher the bank files and, if he is siphoning money, I need to shut him down immediately—again.”
“You’re sure they are backdoor codes?”
“I’m never sure when it comes to Simon, but if the codes provide access to the bank databases it will prove, once and for all, that he lost the flash drive—and committed what could be a crucial error.” Noble took a moment to revel at the possibility. Then, abruptly, he caved in to voice his nagging concerns. “The terrorist camp, the federal land grabs, our energy dependency on foreign oil and, believe it or not, the New Year’s Eve bombings, all lead us to Simon. But, there are still some pieces missing. I’m not yet able to connect the dots!”
Max, surprised by the sound of his frustration and his outburst, answered reticently, “So, you truly think it’s more than Simon recruiting and training terrorists? And that it’s simply not a plan to place one of his pawns waiting in the wings, to eventually step into the role of one of the European leaders? Is there a larger underlying plan that is driving his behavior?”
“On the surface, that should be enough, but we are dealing with Simon. There has to be more. He’s like the Rubik’s Cube, a three dimensional puzzle. He’s vexatious.”
Suddenly, Max felt as though she was holding the pin of a grenade. They had to find Simon and destroy his entire scheme—a scheme they believed he had not yet fully carried out.
Noble refocused summarily. “Where is the flash drive now?”
“I have it in an evidence bag, along with Simon’s fingerprint that I lifted off of the drive before uploading the data.”
“Don’t let it out of your possession. I know a few European countries that would love to get their hands on the infamous flash drive.”
“Are you going to hand it over to Enzo?” Max asked, a little surprised.
“Only if I deem it vital to aid in the conviction of Simon’s accomplices. In that case, we’ll be forced to share some of the details.” Switching gears, Noble added, “I’ll try to change my flight and arrive tomorrow so we can work through the rest of the files together.”
“Good luck,” Max cautioned. “There’s a storm front about to hit the Midwest. It might be best to wait until Monday. After all, you were the one who said, ‘we need to stand down until after we get the photos from the WAASP.’ Nothing will happen until then, anyway. Besides, boss, I’ve got everything covered on this end.”
Max was always confident, one trait Noble most admired.
“You win. I have some loose ends to tie up anyway, including a call to Enzo to alert him to what we’ve uncovered. See you on Monday. Stay warm.”
A click was the next sound she heard.
Noble glanced at his watch and noticed it was half past one, later than he thought. He decided to take a break to stretch his legs and walk down to the ground floor to the kitchen next to the Navy mess. There, he was able to scrounge up a few sandwiches, a bag of chips, and a strong cup of black coffee—somewhat past its prime. He carried the tray of goodies back up the stairs to his office on the second floor and prepared to settle in for the next several hours. After noshing half of one sandwich and gulping a few swigs of coffee, he sat back in his chair. Using his virtual keyboard, he opened the MISCELLANEOUS folder and began to unravel Simon’s codes.
25
NO REST FOR THE FIXATED
Sundays are sacred to many in the western world. A day set aside for many to worship and for many more to kick back and relax. Even Noble enjoyed an occasional day to unwind, work on the New York Times crossword puzzle, and sip on a cappuccino—a habit he picked up from Paolo. But it was not in the cards on this Sunday. Noble had worked throughout most of the night, returning to his home only a few hours before the church bells began to ring. After grabbing a couple hours of sleep, a hot shower, and a quick breakfast, he was once again on his way back to his post at the White House.
As might be expected, Noble finally managed to break and disable the codes in all twenty files that housed the backdoor programs to the various banks, preventing Simon access to his fraudulent accounts. For the time being, the money would remain in those deactivated accounts until he had sufficient time to notify the banks, so the stolen funds could be recovered.
Fortunately, Noble’s acumen in COBOL-60 was still sharp, and he awarded himself with a pat on the back for recollecting. Nevertheless, he found it curious that Simon had never progressed beyond that virgin programming language developed in 1959. There had been a number of modifications and improvements to the language over the years, but Simon stayed with a language that had become antiquated and unfamiliar to the vast majority of programmers today. Perhaps that was his intent, Noble mused.
COBOL, an acronym for COmmon Business-Oriented Language, was widely used as the programming code for back office administrative systems, primarily in the financial and government sectors. However, it had severe limitations. Noble was acutely aware of its shortcomings.
One failing was the code stored only a fixed two-digit entry for the month, the day, and the year. The years 1900 and 2000 would be represented as 00 in the system. Also, for the first time ever, the date September 9, 1999 occurred. It was entered as 9999. The system stores that number as the standard entry for any unknown date. By the end of the twentieth century, many of the business operating systems became heavily reliant on the use of dates as the basis for calculations, for age determination, pension programs, actuarial tables, and numerous other uses. The two-digit entry limitation would have resulted in massive miscalculations in systems throughout the world.
However, leading up to the new millennium, this half-century-old programming inadequacy became evident. Programmers from around the globe, including Noble, worked diligently to correct the problem. Long before the New Year arrived, a worldwide panic had set in—referred to as Y2K, or the Year 2000 problem—adding to the drama.
Although the programmers were able to deflect most of the problems, Noble could recollect that the global scare proved to be valid in some respects. He remembered, vividly, the radiation-monitoring equipment that failed in one country and ticket-validation machines that wouldn’t operate in another. Then there were reports of patients receiving erroneous medical tests, Web sites that reflected inaccurate dates, and the master clock that keeps the U.S.’s official time had lost its way.
Y2K presented a sizable problem, but it was also a gift for a man named Hal Simmons. It was in 2008, when Noble and Hamilton revealed Simon’s other alias, so they began to track the doings of Hal Simmons, past and present. To his surprise, Noble discovered Simmons was also one of the leading international programmers retained to fix the errant codes in the operating systems at the major banks across the U.S. It handed him the perfect opportunity to program the backdoor access code to their databases, creating his personal piggy bank and placing him in the driver’s seat.
I guess we’ve come full circle, Simon. And now, once again, I’ve taken away your slush fund. He rejoiced at the thought. “Enough reminiscing,” he chided himself aloud.
Noble reached for his phone and placed the first of several important calls he would need to make before departing for Utah.
“Don’t tell me you’re working on a Sunday, my friend?” Enzo questioned.
“I’m afraid so, and I apologize for interrupting your day with your family. I’ve uncovered more information about your case that I’m sure you’ll want to know.”
“We’re taking about Simon, I presume.”
“Who else? We finally have solid evidence that proves he was responsible for the New Year’s Eve attacks.”
“I’m all ears!” Enzo stated enthusiasticall
y.
“Has the German Chancellor’s successor been vetted through SAVIOR?”
“No. I just finished with President Grimaud’s cabinet and those in line for succession. They’re all clean. Why do you ask?”
“It may be possible Simon has someone waiting in the wings to take the helm. The chancellor could be a real target. Next time—not a ploy. From what we’ve deciphered thus far, Germany could still be vulnerable.” With pronounced concern in his voice, Noble continued. “I don’t know, but I have this troubling feeling that the case I’m working on here may have a direct link to your case. As you check, please go down two levels of succession. Let me know what you find.”
“I’ll have SAVIOR start to vet them first thing tomorrow.”
Noble described in detail what he discovered in the documents and photos, suggesting that Chancellor Mauer may be a genuine target for elimination. He also cautioned, “We should not discount President Grimaud or Prime Minister Teragram as probable targets as well. There’s something afoot that leads us to deduce mere assassinations of leaders are not the end game. He chose not to tell him about Simon’s new slush fund. That was a U.S. embarrassment he preferred not to highlight.
Enzo had listened with great interest, but then he interrupted and proceeded to ask a series of questions. Noble was forthcoming and did not withhold pertinent information. Enzo then posed a follow up. “You honestly believe that Simon is trying to pull off another Abner Baari? This time in Europe?”
“All the evidence leads me to that conclusion. We can’t dismiss the possibility that one of the leaders will be assassinated and replaced, in a Three-card Monte maneuver, by one of Simon’s pawns waiting to take the helm. Meanwhile his pawn may already be functioning within the government under our noses,” Noble surmised, confirming a fear they had contemplated earlier.
“You’ve convinced me the attempts on the leaders’ lives were trial runs, preparing for some unknown future event. However, we still don’t when, where, or how.”
Noble could hear the uncertainty in Enzo’s voice, and attempted to alleviate his concern. “I’m closing in on Simon, and when I take him down, it should thwart any plans he may have in the works.”
“Luckily, we have some of his trained assassins in hand. I’m happy to report that, after raids in several countries, we now have many of his known acolytes in custody,” Enzo boasted, feeling more confident.
“Were you able to uncover any additional information—any solid links to Simon?”
“You’re aware we turned Badi al-Diri, the Syrian, over to the German authorities. Naturally, he claimed he was operating alone, but we had already established his connection to Simon.
“What about Ahmed?”
“His brother-in-law finally gave us the location of Said Ahmed’s hideout after only a few hours of interrogation,” Enzo passed on proudly. “He was staying in an old hotel in the Goutted’Or, a section of Paris, referred to as Little Africa. We arrested him on Friday, a few hours after I spoke with you. He’s pleaded guilty to placing the bomb under President Grimaud’s limo.
“Fortunately, it was a decoy, although it did kill the driver.” Noble recounted.
“Now, he is in the custody of the French government, and they are trying him for the murder of the limo driver and the attempted murder of President Grimaud.”
“Unfortunately, France abolished the death penalty.”
Enzo did not comment.
“Did Ahmed admit to being on Simon’s payroll?”
“No, like al-Diri, he professes he was operating alone, but we’ve already confirmed the connection. For instance, we know that he and Simon were in Pakistan at the same time on three separate occasions.”
“Tell me something I don’t know about Karim Yakob, our American-born Saudi.” Noble wasn’t anticipating anything enlightening.
“What you don’t know about him is that his real name is Hal Simmons.”
“What? That’s huge!”
Enzo took note of Noble’s excitement, but continued to explain, “From the fingerprint we lifted from a section of the detonator, SAVIOR produced a complete dossier. Karim Yakob was born in Oakland, California. His mother, born in Saudi, met his father while working for Halliburton at their headquarters in Al-Khobar. After they married, Simmons and his new bride relocated to the U.S. and reared one son. In 1995 their son converted to Islam and Hal Simmons changed his name to Karim Yakob.”
“In-cred-i-ble,” Noble scoffed. “Simon recruited Karim and then assumed his identity.”
“I’m confused,” Enzo admitted.
“Hal Simmons was one of the aliases Simon used in the early nineties.” Noble explained that Hamilton’s first case, as a fledging agent, was to track an elusive hacker who was siphoning accounts for various bank computers. Then, when the hacking stopped and the trail went cold, his superior officially closed the case. However, for many years after, Hamilton continued to work doggedly on the case on his own time. “Finally, it led him to an apartment in Cambridge rented by a Hal Simmons. Further evidence eventually led us to Simon.”
“In-cre-di-bi-le” Enzo mimicked, enunciating his accent. “There’s more. Karim was off the radar for a while, but in the past few years he popped up again and we were able to trace several trips he made between London and Salt Lake City.”
“The beryllium connection—of course! Gotta go, Enzo. We’ll talk soon. Thanks.”
“Wait a minute. Every time you mention beryllium, you hang up.”
“Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
“Noble, keep me posted.” Enzo let out a deep breath before ending the call.
Noble placed his next call to the base commander at Dugway, hoping that his office phone was set-up to transfer the call to his smartphone, not expecting to find him at the base headquarters. He was beginning to feel as though he was the only one working on a Sunday. After several rings, he finally heard a click making the connection, and then a familiar voice answered on the other end.
“Director, what a surprise. I trust all is well.”
“Hopefully, all will be well very soon.” He proceeded to fill the base commander in on the events, but only those limited to his suspicions that the terrorists in the camp have the means to escape through the mineshafts. He felt it best not to delve into the connection with Simon but narrowed the conversation to the death of a federal agent on federal land.
I have additional evidence that leads me to conclude that we may be closing in on the leader of the terrorist cell. His name is Mohammed al-Fadl, and I have every reason to believe that, at the moment, he is trapped in the underground facility.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Continue to maintain ground surveillance. As you know, I will be arriving tomorrow and, if we are successful in capturing al-Fadl, I need him placed in maximum security as quickly as possible.”
“Of course, we have a military prison on base, but it’s not designed for high-value prisoners.”
“I understand. Actually, I prefer a state prison. For now, I’ll play the liberal game and keep him out of the federal jurisdiction. Technically, he is an American citizen.”
“In that case, I would recommend the Utah State Penitentiary in Draper. It’s the only prison in Utah with a super-maximum security unit. Their Supermax houses over thirty-seven hundred prisoners and has some of the most violent populations in the U.S. It’s just the place for your fella.”
“Will you make the transfer?”
“We can transport him by helicopter. Would you like me to call the warden to make the arrangements?” the Colonel offered, adding, “He’s a good guy. His name is John Lowell.”
“I’d appreciate your giving him a heads-up. Please let him know I will be calling him within the hour.”
“No problem. I’ll take care of it as soon as we hang up. Hold on, Director. Let me get the number where he can be reached on the weekend.”
Noble waited as he listened to a few clicks on a keyboard
.
“Here it is.”
Noble jotted down the number as dictated by the Colonel.
What else can I do to help?”
“Just give Warden Lowell a call, and then prepare your brig for an indeterminable number of prisoners. I don’t know what we’ll discover, but we need to be prepared. Also, have the Special Forces stand ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Colonel, but get ready for some intense times ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Noble hung up and readied himself for the last two calls he needed to make before calling it quits for the day. First, he decided to handle the more difficult of the two.
“You sound exhausted.”
At the sound of her voice, the tension began to melt away. Surprisingly, until that moment, he hadn’t even realized how tense he had become. “Hi sweetheart, it’s been a long, tiring few days.”
“Will I see you before you leave for your trip?”
“I wish I could come over, but it’s late. I must admit I’m drained physically and emotionally. I need to go home, pack, and try to get some sleep before my flight tomorrow.”
Amanda had reminded herself as she reached to answer the phone not to place any pressure or guilt on Noble. She swore that she would be supportive and help him through this case, but during their respite, they needed to have a very long, serious conversation about their relationship. “Can I drive you to the airport?” she offered.
“Thanks, but I have to be at Dulles International at six a.m., and I’ve already arranged for a car.”
“I can’t even…” She bit her lip in mid-sentence and, after a slight hesitation, she responded, “I’ll miss you. Travel safely, and give me a call when you have the opportunity.”
Noble wasn’t as obtuse as he seemed at times, and he was aware that his career was putting a strain on their relationship. To temper her concerns for the time being, he promised, as he attempted to stifle his yawn, “Things will be different when this case is over. I love you, Amanda.”
“I love you, too. Now, go home and get some sleep.”
Noble's Quest Page 20
