Brotherhood Beyond the Yard (The Simon Trilogy) Read online

  BROTHERHOOD BEYOND the YARD

  BROTHERHOOD BEYOND the YARD

  Sally Fernandez

  This is a work of fiction. Although based on some actual events, other events, names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Brotherhood Beyond the Yard. Copyright © 2011 Sally Fernandez. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner, whatsoever, without written permission except in the case of brief quotations clearly cited.

  For information on licensing, bulk sales or permissions, contact the publisher:

  Dunham Books

  63 Music Square East

  Nashville, TN 37203

  www.dunhamgroupinc.com

  Cover design by Sally Fernandez

  Drawings by Massimo Pivetti

  Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-939447-03-6

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-939447-04-3

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for,

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2011900948

  Dedicated to my incredible editor, best friend, and greatest supporter—my loving husband.

  Ti Amo

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This story is pure fiction. The principal characters and many of the locations are fictitious as well. On the other hand, there are numerous facts for readers to sort out for themselves. The story may also seem to have a tinge of a conspiracy theory, which it is not. It gestated solely in my vivid imagination—a story concocted in my own mind that needed to be expressed.

  A few authentic locations play an integral part in the plot. The descriptions of Harvard University and of Florence, Italy, are genuine, although Banca Nazionale does not exist. Some of the characters in Florence are real, and with their permission, I have used their actual names and occupations.

  Just because you do not take an interest in politics doesn’t mean politics won’t take an interest in you!

  —Pericles, 430 BC

  PART ONE

  1

  THE DARKEST HOUR

  The ground floor of the White House was shrouded in darkness, except for the slight glow under the door of the room where the Secret Service agents relax and the illumination from the corner office on the northeast side of the building. It was the office of Hamilton Scott, director of the States Intelligence Agency, or the SIA, of the United States government.

  His office was only a stairway from the president.

  Director Scott began his career in 1985, in the Foreign Service, working for the U.S. Diplomatic Security Service, the DSS, headquartered in Washington, D.C. In 1987, the DSS transferred him to Rome, Italy, to manage the security detail for the American embassy. Almost a decade later, in 1996, he was transferred back to the States to work for the Central Intelligence Agency in Langley, Virginia.

  In 2003, the head of the CIA appointed Director Scott to head up the SIA, an agency newly established in reaction to the September 11 terrorist attacks. The charter of this new agency was to coordinate information throughout the intelligence community and to establish priorities to ensure the protection of American citizens.

  The personnel of the SIA are exceptional men and women with military and law enforcement backgrounds. They have operated in high-risk situations and carried out complex operations for both the intelligence agencies and the private sector.

  The president, through his initiative, signed an executive order granting the SIA top security clearance for all aspects of domestic, foreign, and defense intelligence. It is the intelligence gathering, the assessments, and the high-risk security solutions that are paramount to achieve its goal.

  It was April 6, 2009, at 2:10 a.m. eastern daylight time. Director Scott had been sitting for hours at his large executive desk, with file folders stacked and papers scattered on top. Behind him was a long, slender fluorescent light casting a glow over two secure computers stationed on top of the credenza.

  The door to the office was locked from the inside.

  The director was alone, having just finished recording the events of his last and most crucial investigation. He reconstructed those events chronologically, piecing them together from his notes along with the evidence he had gathered over the years. Most of the evidence came to him by way of his associate and the testimonies of those directly involved. He had transcribed in infinite detail as best he could the actions he had taken, using his written summation, and at times referring to his notes to guide him.

  The director began by describing how the U.S. citizens were slowly coming out of one of the worst economic disasters of their time, a time when the country was still engaged in the war on terror or “man-made disasters,” as referred to, incredibly, by a high-ranking official in the administration.

  “I believe the administration had encouraged the use of these euphemisms, even though it put our national security at risk,” he said to the computer. “However, this was not a time to engage in more adversity.”

  Hamilton’s primary role as director had always been to protect the U.S. citizens, not only from enemies abroad but also from enemies within. For these reasons, he had chosen to take certain precautions; had he not, the security of the United States would have been in grave jeopardy.

  To maintain the utmost security, he dictated directly into his computer using the latest voice recognition techniques. “After recording the details of this case I will transfer this statement and copies of the evidence to a flash drive,” he voiced. “The flash drive, along with six memory sticks containing the video-recorded testimonies that support the facts, will be stored in a place of safekeeping.”

  Using the Department of Defense’s secure delete standards, under Section 5555.2-M, Hamilton used LSoft Technologies’ Hard Disk Scrubber to remove his declaration from the computer’s hard drive. He then destroyed all the original evidence, including his copious notes, and the summary he created containing his talking points.

  Although he had painstakingly recorded the details of his last investigation, he would not release his statement until an undetermined time in the future. “My intent is not to change the course of history, but I am prepared to withhold these facts until the country has sufficiently healed and the American people are equipped to cope with the impact that which will surely follow.”

  “The time is not now,” he recorded, completing his statement.

  Director Scott had prepared instructions, however, and arranged with a third party to release the information sooner, should either he or his associate, the only people who knew the totality of this case, meet with an untimely death or any other suspicious events.

  Or, if the president did not live up to his commitment.

  Secured with the flash drive and memory sticks, containing the evidence, is a copy of a letter that reads as follows:

  Hours earlier, the director had met with the president.

  The president fully comprehended what the director had done and understood the severity of the consequences if he did not follow his directives.

  While speaking with the president, Director Hamilton Scott tendered his resignation, to be effective April 30, 2009.

  2

  LA FRATELLANZA

  Nine months earlier, in August 2008, members of La Fratellanza, “The Brotherhood,” sat around their round conference table in a small office tucked away on the South Side of Chicago. The table was similar to the one they had used in their study group years ago while attending Ha
rvard. At this table, however, these men had spent countless hours carrying out each phase of their mission, a goal that officially started in the bitterly cold winter of 2000.

  During that same period, each member of this elite group established his career. Some had met and married their mates and had begun to rear their children, and others had remained single.

  All had remained devoted to La Fratellanza.

  —

  One prominent member was Seymour Lynx, who was the media genius and CEO of MediaLynx, Inc., located in Los Angeles. At that time, he was the creator of several political documentaries targeting various presidents; two received Academy Award nominations for Best Documentary, one rumored to be only a few votes away from carrying home the Oscar. Seymour did not start out focusing on political affairs, for his first passion was to write and produce a great epic, paying particular attention to period detail and opulent settings. Somehow, he ended up producing films more like Oliver Stone’s.

  Along the way, his focal point changed and he found his groove. Seymour became the man every special interest group wanted. They needed his help to get their messages across to the public, primarily to thwart the political opposition, whoever it might be at the time. He was instrumental in producing many of the 501(c)(3) “nonpolitical” political ads and highly political assault ads for 527 organizations. Interestingly, Seymour was apolitical. As a political agnostic, he didn’t care about the right, left, or the middle, for that matter; he just liked spinning the truth.

  Seymour was tall in a lanky sort of way, just topping six feet, with short curly black hair capping his head. If his hair were an inch higher it would qualify as an Afro, and if one looked closely enough, one would see a hint of a goatee. Moreover, he always sported a different pair of eyeglasses to coordinate with his trendy clothing. He was affable, and at first glance, one would not exactly consider him a ladies’ man, but looks are deceiving. He would often boast he enjoyed many years of an active bachelorhood.

  After five years of playing the field, Seymour married his childhood sweetheart. They reconnected while attending his tenth high school reunion; he was smitten the moment he laid eyes on her, and she was with him, even to this day. Seymour and his wife, along with their two girls, lived in Brentwood, just outside Hollywood, California.

  Chase Worthington, the oldest member of the group, was the CFO, chief financial officer, for the National Depositors Trust Bank in New York City. At first, his climb up the corporate ladder was slow. Earning a bachelor’s degree from Boston University only propelled him to a managerial position at a local community bank close to his hometown of Dorchester, near Boston, Massachusetts. It wasn’t until several years later that he returned to school to earn a master’s degree in finance, this time from Harvard.

  Evermore serious, Chase stood six feet five inches tall with a slender build. His hair, a sandy brown color, was always slicked straight back. At all times, he donned one of hundreds of his bow ties, and with his horn-rimmed glasses, he painted the personification of a corporate banker. He was also as much a Puritan as his ancestors who first stepped on these shores. That, along with his name and mannerisms, led most to assume he came replete with a pedigree. In his case, both looks and name were deceiving.

  As a single child, Chase was reared in a working-class section of Boston. His father, Henry Worthington Jr., was a mathematics teacher at the local high school, and his mother worked at the corner produce market. When he was born, it was his mother’s idea to give him an affluent-sounding name. Her hope was that the name would in turn give him the respect and opportunity she and his father never had. Whether it was the name, the dress, or Chase’s particularly high IQ, one could not decipher.

  After Harvard, he resumed his banking career, this time at the National Depositors Trust Bank in New York, where he found himself quickly climbing the corporate ladder. During the climb, he married the public relations officer at a competing bank, whom he had been courting for a number of years. Shortly after his marriage, Chase received his promotion to CFO. The Worthingtons, finally affluent, lived in Greenwich, Connecticut, along with their four sons.

  The sophisticate of the group, Paolo Salvatore, was born in Italy, but moved to the United States, with his parents, as a young boy. While Paolo was fluent in Italian, he exuded confidence with his fluency in the English language. He was capable of constructing a falsehood that would convince almost anyone, on any subject, that his premise was true. Like Seymour, he knew how to spin the truth—or rather, twist the facts.

  Despite Paolo’s towering height and strong physique, he possessed a surprisingly soothing manner. That, along with his dark hair and sapphire eyes, helped to open the hearts and minds of his listeners.

  Early on in his career, Paolo attempted to run for the office of mayor in his hometown, but after a long, drawn-out campaign, and losing by a wide margin, he decided that side of the political sphere was not for him. Paolo determined he was better suited to placing his powerful words in the mouths of more experienced politicians. Quickly changing his focus, he started writing campaign speeches for governors and then senators from various states across the nation. However, Paolo’s most prominent position was that of communications director and speechwriter for a U.S. president.

  Paolo was truly in demand, and those who sought his talents had no hesitancy when engaging his services. It made no difference that he’d just written speeches for the opposition party. Those who employed him generally accepted that he had no political allegiance and was impartial.

  Like Seymour, Paolo was forever the ladies’ man and had remained single for many years. It was only two years ago that he decided it was time to settle down and married a law professor from Georgetown University. They had one son named Mario. At the time, the family resided in Reston, Virginia, just outside Washington, D.C., in an affluent neighborhood full of intellectuals like themselves.

  Then there was Hank Kramer, the colorful character of the team. He was of average height and build, just average, including the slight paunch, but with a gift of gab that made him exceedingly popular. He effectively communicated well with people from all walks of life, and he put his talents to excellent use in the organization he built. As founder and CEO of the Chestnut Foundation, a grassroots organization committed to social justice, he would frequently rally the neighborhoods on the South Side of Chicago around any cause.

  Hank married one of his organizers, divorced her, and then married another. After several affairs, and several more marriages and divorces, he was once again single. Evidently, his gift wasn’t much help to him in the organization called marriage. Besides, he was more wedded to his career than to anything or anyone.

  While Hank could talk a good game, he was a bit of a charlatan. He spent his days helping those less fortunate through his foundation, but at night, he hypocritically rubbed shoulders with the elite, which he preferred. On many occasions, he would share the elevator in his luxury high-rise on North Lake Shore Drive with his neighbor Oprah.

  After all, he worked hard and felt he had earned the good life, a mantra he often cited.

  Ah, yes, Simon Hall. He was next to the oldest in the group, a year shy of Chase Worthington. With several degrees from various universities under his belt, he often referred to himself as a “professional intellect.” As brilliant as Simon was, he never fit into the corporate environment and preferred to freelance as a consultant.

  Among many of his accomplishments, he was instrumental in redesigning the security software for ATMs, automated teller machines, which he downloaded to thousands of ATMs across the United States. That gave the added protection needed against the underworld of computer “hackers” who gain unauthorized access to other people’s information.

  Simon was undeniably a technology expert who knew his way around the world of the Internet, and there wasn’t a server he couldn’t breach. Of course, Simon never thought of himself as a hacker, but more of a computer junkie with extraordinary skills in the area
s of technology and programming.

  Of this influential group, Simon was an enigma. Describing his physical attributes was simple. He was tall, with black hair and dark eyes, almost equal in color, and olive skin. Most would consider him somewhat handsome. The character of the man, though, was more difficult to understand. Simon had an enormous amount of charisma and powers of persuasion. His magnetic appeal connected instantly with those he met. He clearly wasn’t your run-of-the-mill computer geek.

  The other members of the group claimed his mysterious persona and empathetic demeanor created an aura that defied description. One of the members quipped, “He is sort of a cross between Joe Black, Brad Pitt’s role in Meet Joe Black, and Frank Abagnale Jr., played by Leonardo DiCaprio in Catch Me If You Can.”

  Nevertheless, they all came to trust Simon in short order for reasons even they were not able to articulate.

  In spite of his tremendous hypnotic appeal, he remained single, never finding the perfect mate that could match his intellect. Simon had resided alone for many years in the San Francisco area of California.

  —

  Knowing the players and the roles they played was crucial to understand how and why certain events transpired. Because at one o’clock that morning, in August 2008, still hot and steamy from the evening before, this eclectic group had assembled to layout the steps of the critical phase of their plan—a plan hatched over a decade ago, during their college days.

  Over the past seven years, La Fratellanza had located, educated, prepared, and groomed a man for the highest office in the land. It was up to them to place him behind the desk in the Oval Office. Three years prior to that point, Abner Baari had become a member of the United States Senate, representing the state of Illinois. The time had arrived and La Fratellanza needed to ensure their newly minted Senator Baari did not lose his run for president of the United States.