The Ultimate Revenge

by Sally Fernandez

  “Noble, in answer to your last question—follow the open society. Ma occhio però.”

  Noble learned enough Italian to know Paolo was warning him to watch out. “Grazie fratello.” He gave his brother-in-law a hug and dashed out of the restaurant.

  16

  HEADIN’ EAST

  Noble rushed into his reception area and looked over toward Doris. “Is Max in the conference room?”

  “She just arrived.”

  He entered the inner sanctum and closed the door behind him. “What have you got?” he asked in an excited state, hoping it would lead them closer to Simon.

  “After you left, the FERC chairman called back. There was another breach, this one at Folsom on the seventh of March. The director from the control center followed the usual procedure and called the DOE. They sent a techie to investigate.”

  “So what makes you think it’s Simon?”

  “Because at both the Birmingham and Taylor facilities, the systems were shut down for ten minutes. The Folsom system was brought to a halt for close to an hour. I asked the chairman to have the directors from the three control centers send me the photo identification for each of the techies who were dispatched.”

  Max used the virtual keyboard and tapped at the various keys. Within seconds, three visitor’s photo badges appeared on the large touchscreen monitor.

  Noble was amazed. “So Birmingham and Taylor were hacked by the prisoner you’re about to interrogate at Dugway. He is the one responsible for setting up the command center in the underground encampment—and he’s a former Harvard classmate.” Noble’s shock quickly transformed into anger and he sputtered, “Which means our genius was a mole operating inside the Department of Homeland Security.” Toning down his ire, he said, “Hank mentioned that Baari’s last appointment before stepping down was the Secretary of the DHS.”

  Max raised a brow and intoned, “Very interesting!”

  Noble shook his head in disgust. “What about the other guy? The one sent to Folsom.”

  “He’s legit; a fifteen-year veteran with the agency and a clean record. In fact, I had an interesting conversation with him. He said that the hacker left behind some code. It is characteristic hacker code, used to destabilize the system long enough to raise havoc. Typically, the hacker removes the code before exiting the system leaving no trace. But this time it was left behind.”

  “Hmmm.” Noble pondered for a moment, and then theorized, “The Folsom breach occurred after the mole was captured on January 31. And unlike the other breaches, their system was down for almost an hour.”

  “The Birmingham and Taylor systems were only down for ten minutes,” Max reiterated.

  “That’s because the mole accessed the facilities and the main computer systems directly. He was able to then quickly alter the code.”

  “That’s why I think it is Simon. Whatever he’s doing to each of these control centers, he’ll now have to perform himself. Moreover, not being able to access the facility directly, he’ll have to manage his handiwork from the outside and within range of the control center’s network. Simon is either in or heading toward Folsom. That’s our confirmation.”

  “First, you need to interrogate the mole. We need more than guesswork.”

  “I agree. We need to find out his role; one Simon may have apparently assumed after the mole was captured. This could be our breakthrough.” Max barely got the last word out of her mouth before Noble’s phone rang.

  “Agent Burke on line one,” Doris announced.

  Noble hit the appropriate button and then the one for the speakerphone. “Burke, I’ve got you on the speaker. Max is with me. What’s happening?”

  “I think we have a lead on Simon. Two young males picked up a hitchhiker a mile out of Newcastle and dropped him off in Folsom. They said at the time they had no clue who he was until a week later when they saw Simon’s photo on a TV screen in a local bar.”

  “Where exactly did they drop him off?”

  “At the bus station.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch.” Noble’s voice echoed through the speaker.

  “Director, I have a feeling it was intentional. Simon is covering his trail. So I made calls to several of the local used car lots. And we got lucky!”

  “Burke, what?” Noble was becoming encouraged. He needed the slightest break.

  “The dealer said the customer vaguely resembled Simon’s photo, except he had gray hair and a beard. I’m bringing in a sketch artist to draw up a composite.”

  “Any luck finding the guy who finished off Simon’s false IDs?”

  “We are still looking for him. You can’t imagine how many counterfeiters set up businesses in and around the Folsom area—and not far from the prison grounds.”

  “Keep me posted. With any luck, we might be getting closer. Back to the dealer, what caught his attention?”

  “He became suspicious when the customer became impatient, demanding he move the paperwork along, and he paid cash in crisp one hundred dollar bills.”

  “And the make and model?”

  “He purchased a 1996 White Ford Bronco. The temporary California plate number is J as in Juliett, A as in Alpha, F as in Foxtrot, 4-2-8.”

  “Max, bring up the grids,” Noble asked.

  “Excuse me, I didn’t hear you.”

  “Hold on a sec, Burke. I have Max putting something on the display monitor.”

  Max and Noble stared at a map of the country. Earlier, Max had circled the five grids where they had data leading them to conclude the control centers were the targets. Then she crossed off the breached facilities one-by-one. They took a moment to study them as Burke waited patiently on the other end of the line.

  “Burke, he’s heading toward the Midwest.”

  “Where in the Midwest?”

  Noble explained that Max would be heading to Dugway to interview one of the prisoners. “We have evidence that this guy hacked two of the electrical grid control centers and are fairly positive Simon hacked the one in Folsom. We have identified three other centers as targets. One is in Minnesota, one is in Indiana, and one is in Mississauga.”

  “In Canada?”

  “Yes. Whatever Simon has planned will happen after he crosses the border or perhaps, even leaves North America.”

  “Max, bring up a road map and identify the possible routes from Folsom to St. Paul, Minnesota.”

  She tapped rapidly until a map appeared with two possible routes.

  “Burke, it looks like he could take Route 80 East, but that would put him back in Utah and straight thru Salt Lake City. Risky at best.”

  “Can he circumvent Utah?”

  “Hold on. He could take Interstate 395 North, then Route 84 Southeast, and pick Route 80 on the other side of Salt Lake City near Ogden and continue east. It would take him roughly thirty-one hours.”

  “I suspect he’ll stop along the way, which will slow him down. It’s also possible he’ll only drive at night,” Burke concluded.

  “Update the APB and get helicopter support.”

  “We’ll find him Director.”

  “I want to know the second anyone lays eyes on him!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  In a calmer tone, Noble said, “Good work Burke. Later.” He hit the button on the speakerphone and disconnected the call.

  “We’ll get him,” Max echoed. “But we still need to find out specifically how he’s going to bring the grids down and dismantle his plot. I’m sure I’ll get something out of the mole.” Max tried to sound encouraging, but the skeptical look on Noble’s face remained.

  “It’s time for me to have a face-to-face with the president. Go catch your flight.”

  “I’ll call you directly after the interrogation. Hang in there boss.” Max touched his shoulder gently on the way out of the conference room.

  Noble remained in his chair and stared at the map for a while, until he could no longer ignore the inevitable. He reached for his phone. “Doris, I believe the president is in the h
ouse. See if I can get an hour with him today.” Noble knew he did not need to say more. The president understood. Noble only required time when it was for the utmost importance. Throughout this case in particular, he had kept the president informed through a daily missive, for his eyes only. As Noble continued to focus on the map he did not hear the buzzer, but he noticed the blinking red light.

  “He can see you at two o’clock.”

  It was twelve forty-five. “Thanks Doris. Would you order me the usual and hold all my calls?”

  “Right away.” Doris knew his favorite sandwich was turkey on whole wheat with lettuce, tomato, and lots of black pepper. She also knew hold my calls did not include Max, Burke, or Stanton.

  With an hour to go, Noble began to jot down specific events that had led him to his bold assessment.

  17

  PRESIDENTIAL ENLIGHTENMENT?

  Mr. President, thank you for your time,” Noble said as he shook the president’s hand. Then they walked across the room and sat down facing each other on opposite sofas. “Sir, I trust your trip to the Middle East was satisfactory?” he asked, trying to mute any tension in his voice.

  The president sensed that would be Noble’s only softball question and obliged, although there was not a softball answer in reply. “As well as can be expected. Although, I seem to have spent more time mending fences than building bridges. Perhaps, I should have been a farmhand and stayed out of political office,” he quipped. Though unplanned, he aired his frustration. “You’ll never hear me express this outside the Oval Office, but my predecessor left the Mideast in utter turmoil. The Syrian debacle alone, with his famous redline diplomacy and waffling, put our authority in lasting jeopardy. He gave strength to our enemies and severely damaged relationships with our rapidly declining number of friends. It is my hope that we will at least be able to repair the trust lost with Israel. It was unthinkable that he would have contemplated bombing Syria to stop Assad. The Muslim Brotherhood, whose goal has always been to destroy the U.S., supports the Assad government, so we opted to give support to the rebels fighting alongside al-Qaeda against Assad, who also wants the destruction of the U.S. In the meantime, he created a situation that left Russia and Iran lolling in the spectator stands waiting for the U.S. to self-destruct.” The president was openly angered by the chaos handed to him by failed policies of the prior administration. “It has cast an unfavorable light on our country globally.” Then, in an equally serious tone, he turned the question to Noble. “You’re not one to waste time, yours or mine. What’s happening with the case?”

  Through weekly briefings, the president was aware of the security breach at the control center in Taylor, the abandoned car outside Newcastle and the ongoing interrogations at Dugway—and that Senator Townsend agreed to the immunity agreement earlier than expected, which the president was about to sign on the advice of the attorney general. Hence, Noble spent his initial time to provide an update.

  “We’ve had two more cyber-attacks reported. One in Birmingham that occurred last November that had gone unreported until now, and more recently at Folsom. Max is heading to Dugway to interview one of the prisoners who we know was the hacker in the first two breaches. It appears our clever intruder was a mole working inside the National Cyber Security Division.”

  “Brilliant,” the president scoffed.

  Noble concurred with his disdain, but he had more troubling facts to reveal. “What we have uncovered thus far, leads us to suspect Simon was responsible for hacking into the system at Folsom. From all the evidence, it is our best assessment that he is planning to disrupt the power supply of the country—in an attempt to create a national disaster. The reasons are still unclear.”

  At the words, national disaster, the president sat upright. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s my conclusion as the facts suggest,” Noble replied, while inwardly hoping to hell he was wrong. Then slowly and deliberately, he proceeded to fill the president in on his conversation with Baari’s former staff.

  The president was furious. “Even if Baari made that statement about the need of a disaster, and even if he said it in a moment of frustration, it’s reprehensible. He took an oath to protect the people, not to destroy them!” In a calmer tone, the president asked, “You mentioned a feasibility study to gauge the nation’s ability to recover from a disaster. What were the results?”

  Noble hesitated and then answered, “Unsustainable.”

  The president was shaken for a moment as he contemplated the horror, before he challenged, “Three control centers have been hacked, and to date nothing of consequence has happened.”

  “Sir, Simon’s a notorious hacker and adept at programming. It is highly possible he’s inserted backdoor codes to allow ease of access at a later time. We’ll have a better idea after Max speaks with the mole.” Changing his expression slightly, Noble asked, “This may seem like an unrelated question, but can you give me an update on the Superstation?”

  The president appeared surprised at the sudden shift. “You think there’s a connection?”

  “I understand there have been a series of delays since announcing the Superstation in 2009. Although, it’s slated to go operational any day now, do you foresee any further delays?”

  “I’m currently having FERC’s prior approvals reviewed. It is important to ensure that the Superstation does not create a power monopoly for energy transmission. I question the reliability of the project and whether in the end the consumer will end up paying more for power. There is also concern that the EPA never conducted the required environmental impact study. I have yet to find one on record. It seems to have taken on an immoral life of its own. So yes, I could delay it further. Noble, what’s the connection?”

  “This is only a premise, sir, but if there was a rolling blackout affecting major cities across the country—could you be forced to authorize the Superstation to go live without the final governmental approvals, as a matter of national interest?”

  “Of course, I’d have no choice, if the Superstation holds the solution.” “It is highly possible that is Simon’s intent. He is carrying out what we surmise to have been Baari’s original plan for a staged disaster had he remained in office. It now would provide Simon a ready-made vehicle to create his own national disaster he longs to achieve for presumably different motives.”

  “What’s in it for Simon?”

  “In all honesty—I don’t know.” Noble asserted evenly, but then he asked another leading question. “What can you tell me about the man referred to as the Godfather of the Environmental Movement?”

  “Where are you heading?” the president asked cautiously.

  Noble was forthcoming and divulged all he had discovered about the mysterious wealthy environmentalist. “Last week, I spoke with one of my sources, formerly from the DOE. When I asked about the Superstation, he became seemingly edgy. He dodged the question but he handed me a napkin where he had scribbled a word and a number, Agenda 21. When I pursued my inquiry our discussion came to an abrupt end.”

  The president listened intently, and then in a neutral tone he explained, “The Godfather is a powerful businessman, having held a string of positions in the United Nations, dating back as far as 1974. However, his tentacles reach beyond the U.N. to a multiple of business enterprises. He hobnobs with the international power elites, including five U.N. secretary-generals, U.N. functionaries and numerous heads of state, many of whom seek his advice. His influence peddling is well known in their inner-circle. And he uses that influence to push the concepts of global warming and the sustainability of Mother Earth.”

  “So the Superstation and its related renewable energy agenda are vital to their cause?”

  “It would be an important cog, although the Godfather’s interests are not limited to reducing gas house emissions.” Then in a surprising and rare moment, the president changed his tone and shared his personal views. “There is science on both sides of the global warming argument. But it’s a Pote
mkin village. Clearly, the sanctimonious message it carries makes it more palatable for our citizens to digest, and provides a diversion from the real issue. Sports fans would consider it a head-fake. But behind the smokescreen, is a group of powerful people who hold the view that as industrial societies prosper, they will consume an excess of the earth’s resources to an unsustainable level, if not managed on a global basis. They believe the citizens are incapable of managing our planet’s resources. They preach that sustainable development can only be achieved through the worldwide redistribution of wealth and imposition of global governance.” The president stopped, as he observed the expression on Noble’s face.

  “Sir, are you referring to Agenda 21 as the real issue?”

  “Indeed. Agenda 21 basically states that America is becoming overly affluent and our standard of living should be lowered, by sharing our wealth with poorer countries.” The president took a noticeable pause before making his next statement. “Have you heard of what’s referred to as the Covenant?”

  Noble was stumped. “No, sir, I haven’t.”

  “In 2010, the International Union for the Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources, referred to as IUCN, and the International Council of Environmental Law, ICEL, drafted a document and submitted it to the member states in the United Nations. The document is titled International Covenant on Environment and Development—or, the Covenant.”

  “Sir, is this similar to Agenda 21?”

  “Some have described it as Agenda 21 on steroids. And while Agenda 21 is non-binding, if the Covenant is adopted by the U.N. it becomes enforceable through the International Criminal Court.”

  Noble was clearly distressed at the thought. Considering the dire implications, he challenged, “That would create an oppressive system of global governance that would claim authority over the environment for the entire world!”