The Ultimate Revenge

by Sally Fernandez

  Up ahead, he observed a sign that read, “Welcome to Mill City, Nevada,” and realized he had crossed the state border. Within minutes, another sign appeared. He was elated to see “Travel Centers of America” flashing on an inviting neon light. The fresh clothes partially helped, but as he took a whiff of his malodorous body he mused, I’m desperate for a shower. Without hesitation, he turned right into the parking lot and parked next to the “Fork in the Road Restaurant.” As if on cue, his stomach growled in relief.

  Tucked away in the back booth in the corner he ordered the trucker’s special.

  “Black or with cream and sugar, hon,” the first kind face of the day asked.

  “Black, please.”

  The coffee was satisfying as he waited for the sunny-side up eggs, sausage patties, hash browns, and dark toast; the only hot meal he had had in days. Moreover, the sensation of feeling free again—was overwhelming. Finally, with his hunger sated, he went straight to the Wi-Fi hotspot and began to tap away on his tablet to look for his next destination.

  After a hot meal, a lukewarm shower, a full tank of gas, and a firm destination, he once again ventured out onto the long stretch of highway and headed west.

  2

  THE HUNT GOES ON

  Monday was a gloomy day in Washington D.C. It appeared to affect all those within the beltway. Inside the Dirksen Senate Building, the mood was more melancholy.

  Already on edge, the knock at the door startled her. “Come in!” the senator barked as she looked up from her computer screen.

  “Director Noble Bishop is on the line. He respectfully requests an appointment to discuss some urgent business.”

  The senator grimaced. Respectfully requests, I doubt it is a simple request from the director of the States Intelligence Agency, she thought, knowing exactly the subject of the urgent business. She stared again at the monitor and asked, “Do I have any time this week?”

  “Friday morning is open.”

  “Tell the director I’ll see him at nine o’clock—in my office. Thank you,” she stated without looking up, a clear sign for her secretary to leave.

  The gloom extended beyond the Washington weather. For the local, state, and federal authorities who had been conducting a massive manhunt, the trail had gone cold.

  Two weeks prior, on January 31, SIA Director Noble Bishop had conducted Operation NOMIS from the command center at the Dugway Proving Ground in Utah. Noble and the base commander led a team comprised of Max, his deputy director, FBI Agent Burke, and Major Stanton, along with his Special Forces B Team. Their mission was to enter an underground encampment and capture Mohammed al-Fadl, also known as Simon Hall. The mission was a success. They captured the notorious terrorist, along with men and women trained for an unidentified cause.

  On February 2, the ever-slippery Simon escaped from a maximum-security cell at the Utah State Penitentiary in Draper. He simply walked out of the prison—then he vanished from sight.

  The authorities pulled out all stops. The prison warden had sent out an all-points bulletin to train stations, airports, hotels, and motels. The state police had established roadblocks throughout the state and at its borders. They required that all passersby submit to visual identification and retina scans—all to no avail. The over-confident warden insisted they would nab him, but Noble suspected Simon had crossed the Utah border—in which direction was only conjecture.

  Neither Noble nor Max could add value to the physical capture. Running around the country in lockstep with other authorities on the search for Simon made no sense. They decided it was more important to return to Washington to focus on Simon’s game plan, find where he was heading, and stop him in his tracks. The day after the escape, Noble and Max packed up the evidence from the encampment and the Draper prison, and escorted it back to Washington on a military jet. Since then, they had been wading through boxes of documents, manuals, and forensic evidence looking for minute clues.

  Noble assigned Agent Burke to remain at the prison to lead the manhunt, much to the warden’s chagrin. Major Stanton and his B Team stayed at Dugway to conduct the interrogations of the 109 detainees they had captured in the underground encampment. Unhappily, the number one detainee had slipped through their supposedly flawless security at the Utah penitentiary—Simon was free to roam.

  Once before, Simon had cleverly evaded Noble’s grasp. It was seven years earlier, in 2009, when Noble organized a sting operation with his predecessor Hamilton Scott to capture Simon. As planned, it lured Simon to Florence, Italy to retrieve the last of his stolen funds—funds Noble had managed to syphon from his account at slowly paced intervals. However, Hamilton’s race through the streets of Florence, and then through the famous Vasari Corridor, left him capturing an empty satchel—without the remaining money. Simon had disappeared once again.

  Max burst into Noble’s office in her usual brash manner and asked, “Did the senator agree to a meeting?”

  “Don’t you ever knock?”

  Max ignored Noble’s jibe.

  “Yes, she agreed to meet on Friday at nine a.m. as I respectfully requested.”

  “Great!”

  “I want you to join me in the interview and in the questioning.”

  “Me!”

  “You can handle it. After all, Simon deprived you of an opportunity to interrogate him by escaping. Perhaps you’ll uncover a clue that will put him back in his cell.” He flashed a supportive smile, and then said, “Now, let’s review the evidence. Start with the surveillance video showing the senator’s visit to the prison.”

  Max anticipated correctly and had already queued up the video on the large multi-touch monitor. She hit the Play button.

  Noble paid particular interest as the senator walked over to the table and sat down in the chair across from Simon, Noble’s former Harvard classmate. He recalled sitting in the same chair three weeks earlier, when he spent six and a half hours interrogating Simon in a furious battle of wits. On the monitor, Simon again appeared to be comfortable sitting in the prisoner’s chair, the one bolted to the floor. He was flashing his famous, unnerving Cheshire grin toward the senator—just as he had with Noble and any other undeserving soul. In a way, Noble felt as though he was still in that dim interrogation room illuminated by a single row of lights. Even in the video, they cast the same ominous yellow glow over the sparse furnishings, creating a sense of déjà vu.

  Max observed intently, as well, but focused on the body language. Almost immediately, she paused the video. “Pay attention to the look on Simon’s face when the senator lifts her handbag off her shoulder and places it on the floor,” She reversed the video and then hit the Play button.

  “His eyes are following her movements,” he observed. “Wait a minute, he flinched.”

  “Right, I saw the same thing.” Max reversed the video again. “Now watch, but this time pay attention to the senator’s movement.” She hit the Play button.

  “I’ll be damned. He flinched just as she returned upright after putting the bag on the floor. Simon must have felt her hand brush his ankle under the table, unless he was numb,” he quipped.

  Max hit the Pause button.

  Then observing the scene more closely, Noble affirmed, “It looks like she slipped him something.”

  They both looked at each other and said aloud in unison, “xPhad.”

  The xPhad had become standard issue for the SIA. It was somewhat thicker than an iPhone, but when unfolded it transformed into a tablet matching the dimensions of an iPad. Both Noble and Max relied heavily on their xPhads and were well aware of its capabilities.

  “It’s circumstantial with a bit of speculation at best. We’ll need more,” Noble asserted.

  They reviewed another video, this time showing Simon in his six-by-twelve-foot cell. He was sitting on a hard bed topped with a thin prison-quality mattress, positioned across from an unappealing stainless steel sink and toilet. Noble had inspected the same maximum-security accommodations the day before he entered the enc
ampment. It was in anticipation of Simon’s capture outside the Dugway Proving Grounds.

  Max fast-forwarded the video and then hit the Play button. “Note the time on the video. It’s after the senator departed.”

  Simon’s cell was immersed in total darkness, except for a small beam of light emanating from under his blanket. The only illumination in the tiny chamber, they concluded, was from the tablet he was hiding underneath his bedcover.

  They continued to watch the video, noticing the time-stamp. It was now 4:05 a.m. The station guard was nowhere to be seen as Simon walked through a series of gates. Then he walked directly out of the prison. From another surveillance video, they saw him as he slithered by the guard tower and ducked behind several cars as the revolving search light headed in his direction. Then he vanished from the scene.

  Max and Noble shared the same sense of dread they felt when they first scrutinized the video together with the warden within hours of the escape.

  “That confirms it in my mind,” Max insisted. “He was using the xPhad the senator had slipped him to program his escape from his cell.”

  “We still need more evidence. Play the surveillance video you retrieved from the airport.”

  “Give me a sec.” As Max fumbled through a series of folders, she harked back to Noble, “Remember the senator was to arrive at the South Valley Regional Airport in Jordan, Utah. Her jet pulled into the hanger at one-fifty p.m. Here it is.” She hit the Play button.

  They studied the video as the senator disembarked with her security detail in tow. From the various videos Max spliced together, they viewed her walking in a corridor and then entering a door to her right. The agents waited in the hallway.

  “I guess the senator needed to powder her nose.” Max smirked.

  Minutes later, the senator returned to the corridor and the entourage continued out of the building. Parked at the door were three black sedans, the usual sinister looking cars with their opaque black windows. They escorted the senator to the middle car.

  “Everything seems to square with what the secret service reported,” Noble conveyed. “One of the agents reported checking the senator into the hotel and accompanying her to her suite. She requested not be disturbed for the evening and announced she would see them in the morning. Each agent had a turn standing guard outside her door.”

  “We have the prison’s visitor logbook showing that she signed in at nine p.m. So how did she leave without them knowing and make her way to the prison?” Max asked.

  “Good question. Get the surveillance video for the hotel corridor. View the section between the time she checked in until she had left the next morning to join her fellow envoys at the prison as scheduled.”

  “Fine, but I won’t be able to get my hands on the tape until late tomorrow.”

  “We’ll have to go into the meeting with the senator with what we have. Who knows? Maybe she’ll give up something.” Without warning, Noble felt the intrusive vibration from his xPhad. “Hold on. Let me take this call,” he requested, holding up his right index finger.

  “Burke, what’s up?”

  “We have a lead on Simon. It is possible he’s heading west toward Reno. The day he escaped, he stopped in Mill City, Nevada at the ‘Travel Centers of America.’ Essentially, it’s a truck stop, which includes a gas station, a restaurant, and shower facilities. The attendant on duty explained that he was responsible for cleaning the shower stalls after each use, replacing the towels and soap…”

  Noble was furious and cut Burke off. “Why are we just hearing this now? That was two weeks ago!” he admonished.

  Burke took no offense and explained calmly, “The manager returned to work yesterday after recuperating from emergency back surgery. He happened to be sorting through the Lost and Found bin. Evidently, it’s typical to find articles of clothing, toothbrushes, et cetera, left behind by travelers. Guess what? A pair of white sweatpants and a white shirt found its way to the bin. Printed on the back of the shirt was Draper State Penitentiary Inmate. He called the local precinct and they called the warden.”

  Dialing down his ire a notch, Noble scoffed, “What gives with the attendant? He thought the owner would come back and claim them?”

  Burke understood Noble’s frustration and kept his cool. “The sheriff for the Nevada Highway Patrol interviewed him. The attendant remembered the clothing but he said they were folded, as if someone had planned to put them back into a travel bag. He swears he put them in the bin exactly the way he found them.”

  “Does he remember who they belonged to?”

  “Yes. In fact, he recalled filling the gas tank for a customer who had just showered, but then the customer had departed before the attendant returned to clean the shower stall. Director, he identified Simon from a photo and he remembers the make and model of the car. Believe it or not, it’s a 2012 Ford Escape.”

  “Escape!”

  Burke could not resist a chuckle.

  “I fail to see the humor,” Noble interrupted.

  “Harrumph.” Burke cleared his throat and continued, “It’s a blue metallic XLS sport utility model. From a surveillance video, we were able to identify the license plate. It was from Utah. The number is four seven zero, X as in X-ray, B as in bravo, A as in alpha. We ran the plates. Get this! The car is registered to a Hal Simmons.”

  “Dust for prints and get back to me A-S-A-P?”

  Burke could tell from Noble’s voice that he was exasperated. He tried not to prolong the agony. “Will do!”

  However, Noble was not finished. “What time did he arrive in Mill City?”

  “As viewed on the video, he filled the gas tank at ten a.m. That would be about right. It’s a five and a half hour drive west on I-80 from the prison.”

  “Great! He escaped at four a.m. and by nine thirty—he was taking a hot shower. Thank goodness massages weren’t available.”

  Burke had one last burning question. “The video showed the car leaving. Simon turned right on to I-80 continuing in a westerly direction. But why would he head west? You’d expect him to head south to the Mexican border or cross over north into Canada.”

  “He’s not finished,” Noble lamented. “There’s a good chance he’ll try to dump the car at some point. Update the APB with a description. Maybe, we’ll get lucky.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Burke, if you find the car I want you to run the prints. Only you,” Noble cautioned.

  Burke had come to trust Noble’s instincts and did not question why. “Later, Director.” He ended the call.

  Noble filled Max in on the conversation.

  “Hal Simmons! Then the escape had to have been prearranged if he’s using one of his aliases.”

  “I agree. But how the senator fits in to all this is what I want to know!”

  “Maybe on Friday we’ll get lucky and find out.” Max tried to sound encouraging.

  Noble’s discouragement was transparent.

  “Maybe you should call it a night, boss.”

  “You too—go home,” Noble ordered.

  “Darling, you sound exhausted.”

  Hearing Amanda’s voice gave Noble a momentary surge of energy. “I’m still at the office, but I’ll be heading home soon.”

  “Would you like some company?”

  “You know I love your company, but I need to get some sleep tonight.” Noble missed the nights when Amanda stayed over, but this case had to take precedence. He needed to be sharp and stay focused.

  “I understand sweetheart. Are we still on for dinner with the Ridges Friday night?”

  “Of course, I’m looking forward to seeing them.”

  “Call me tomorrow.”

  “I will. I love you.”

  “I love you too. Now go home,” she commanded.

  Noble heard the click on the other end of the line and placed the receiver in its cradle. Then he looked over at the framed photo on his desk and thought about how much he loved Amanda. He was forty-seven-years-old and up until
a year ago, he had avoided any serious relationship, preferring his work to the “getting-to-know-you” dating scene and all that followed. At times, he questioned his reluctance to engage in intimacy. Often, he reasoned that losing his parents at a young age might have aided his aversion. There was no question that challenge was his Achilles heel and left little room for anything or anyone. Then when he assumed the position as the director of the SIA, he became more driven in the pursuit of national security. He recognized his reticent personality had shifted and he had become more demonstrative in spite of his obsession.

  Then something changed.

  His brother-in-law Paolo introduced him to Amanda and his heart skipped more than a few beats. She was striking, with dark black hair and light blue eyes. She was also extremely intelligent. Noble decided at that moment to make an attempt at a relationship. From the start, he relished her company. An added bonus was that she tolerated his erratic, non-stop work schedule, which endeared her to him even more. Aside from her stunning beauty and charm, he admitted to himself there were other influences that caused him to take the plunge. As he looked again at the photo staring back, he reckoned the reasons were no longer important. His only thought was how happy he was to have Amanda in his new life. He ruminated a bit longer. Then noting the time, he packed up his briefcase, including the senator’s files containing the evidence, and headed home wistfully to an empty bed.

  3

  LIGHTENING STRIKES TWICE

  Director Bishop is here to see you,” announced the senator’s secretary, and then added, “He’s accompanied by Deputy Director Ford.”

  “Direct them to my conference room. I’ll be there momentarily.”

  The secretary left to comply.

  Several minutes later, Senator Maryann Townsend, the former first lady, entered the conference room. She offered them a puzzled look as she had only expected to see Noble.