Noble's Quest Page 9

  Aldo, clearly bewildered by the conversation, replied, “Yes, he loved to buy and sell various art forms. Over time, he amassed an extensive collection.” He also thought, Odd that Noble wasn’t aware.

  “Aldo,” Noble addressed directly, “I know you were responsible for transferring the fifty-one million dollars to a bank account in Georgetown. The account number written on the note paper was in your handwriting.”

  Somewhat surprised by Noble’s serious tone, he swore, “It was a gift from the direttore.”

  “I presumed as much—although a rather generous gift.” Noble suddenly realized he had sounded more like an interrogator and not as a friend. He attempted to soften his voice. “Aldo, I’ve always been curious. Where did the money come from?” Noble was thankful Aldo could not see the expression on his face.

  “When the direttore learned that he did not have much longer to live, he made arrangements to sell his villa to a gentleman, and his art collection to several parties. All agreed to pay in full and take possession after his death.”

  Noble detected the sadness in Aldo’s voice. He remained silent, and allowed him to finish.

  “The money I transferred to you was part of the proceeds from those sales at the request of the direttore.” Aldo was thankful Noble could not see the tears welling in his eyes.

  “I appreciate your sharing the information. It was a question that has plagued me for some time,” Noble relented, with more warmth. Then, with genuine, heartfelt regret, he admitted, “There was so much I didn’t know about the director. I should have visited more often after he moved to Florence.”

  “The direttore loved you like a son, and delighted in the phone conversations you had over the years.”

  “Thank you, Aldo, for all you did for the director and for me. We shall speak again soon.”

  “Stay well, Noble, and give my regards to Enzo. A presto.”

  Noble hung up the phone and took a moment to reflect on the conversation. Then, in a total about-face of emotion, he laughed aloud as he remembered doing—the noble thing. He had transferred all the money—unknowingly, his money—to the U.S. Treasury. “What irony,” he wailed. He chuckled again, but this time in despair, as he thought, If only Simon knew how noble I really was. As he continued to muse over the irony, he caught the flashing red light out of the corner of his eye, having forgotten about the message waiting to be retrieved. He exhaled to prepare himself for another crisis as he reached for the phone.

  The message was not from Max.

  Pleasantly surprised, Noble found the voice of the messenger to be a welcome relief. He grabbed his xPhad, hit the appropriate speed dial button, and counted the rings.

  “Darling, it’s wonderful to hear your voice,” she purred in a sleepy tone.

  He viewed the clock on the nightstand, realizing he had not considered the time difference.

  “Amanda, I’m sorry to have awakened you.”

  “I’m glad you called.” She yawned.

  “I’ll let you go back to sleep. But can you meet me at my apartment tomorrow night at eight o’clock?”

  “You’re coming home?” she asked gleefully and seemingly more alert.

  “Yes, I’ll be back in Washington tomorrow afternoon, but I have to meet Max at the office as soon as I arrive.”

  Ignoring his comment, she inquired, “Is everything okay?”

  “Just a break in the case,” he murmured. While his heart truly ached for Amanda’s company, he couldn’t stop his mind from pondering a very different subject. The fifty-one million dollars Hamilton gifted me—was not from the recaptured stolen funds—how could I have ever suspected any wrongdoing?

  She could tell he was distracted, and persisted out of concern. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Everything’s okay. See you tomorrow night. Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Goodnight.”

  12

  OH MY GOD

  “Air France flight 7-6-5-1 to Paris is now boarding. Please proceed to gate twenty-five,” commanded a voice from the ceiling speakers.

  Noble barely had time to sit down in the departure lounge before he had to gather his belongings and head for the plane. In roughly an hour and a half, the plane would touch down at the Charles de Gaulle Airport.

  Instead of delving into the Dead Zone case, he decided to spend his time sorting through the countless e-mails he had ignored over the previous few days. He thumbed past those from Amanda and Max, which naturally he had read and already responded to, and several e-mails he had forwarded to Max for her to handle. The others he deleted.

  Shortly after, the captain made the announcement, “Prepare for landing.”

  Noble downed the rest of his coffee, moved his seat into the required position, and mentally readied himself for the next leg of his trip.

  Comfortably settled into a chair in the Air France Lounge, Noble reached for his xPhad and attempted to focus on his own investigation. It was now officially recognized as the Dead Zone since the coroner had issued the autopsy reports, a fact he accepted with gloom. Slowly, the evidence uncovered in his case in the U.S. displaced the myriad of data that had been swirling in his mind about the New Year’s Eve bombings.

  He unfolded his tablet and retrieved the last e-mail he had received from Max, the one with the attachment of the updated map of the Dead Zone.

  He noticed Max had added a notation next to the pushpin she had placed earlier near the Bell Hill Mine, close to where the rangers found the kayakers’ bodies, and also the spot where Agent Darrow last made contact. She had also added a pushpin at the location where they found the agent’s body. He continued to study the map with intensity as he began to look for something, anything that would explain the murders of so many innocent victims. He was convinced that each of them had seen something forbidden. And then, of course, there was the death of Agent Darrow.

  Noble had focused on the map for over an hour when, all of a sudden, an announcement blared over the intercom. “Last call for Air France flight twenty-eight to Washington.” Jolted out of deep concentration, he quickly grabbed his paraphernalia and rushed to the gate.

  After take-off, and settling into seat 5A, Noble retrieved his tray table and prepared for lunch. He was suffering from a combination of being famished and exhausted. He chose to eat first, followed immediately by a catnap. In just over seven hours, he would arrive at Dulles International Airport to begin—what he assumed would be—a long-harrowing day. And, after a restless night, he needed sleep desperately.

  Following another fitful slumber, this time with visions of the map flashing in his mind, he decided once again to study the map of the Dead Zone to look for clues—clues that would lead him to the missing link. For over a half-hour, he racked his brain as he stared at the map. Then he began to doodle.

  Using the highlighter tool with his right index finger, Noble attempted to connect the dots—literally. First, he made a mark at the Bell Hill Mine near the pushpin where Agent Darrow reported his last location. Then, he continued to make his mark down to where the kayakers’ bodies were found. He ran his finger southeast connecting the line to the Joy Mine, near the pushpin that indicated the location of the Emersons’ bodies. Using his finger once again to construct another line, he continued to move southeast toward the pushpin that pointed to the town of Delta, where the Emerson couple and the two trekkers were last seen. Continuing with the highlighter, he moved northeast to the junction where Highway 6 and the Brush Wellman Road intersected. It was the location the storeowner at the Quality Market in Delta reported the trekkers would begin their journey. According to the storeowner, the trekkers planned to follow along the Brush Highway on their way to the Fish Spring National Wildlife Refuge. Noble continued to move his finger north and connect the line with the pushpin at the Silver City Mine ruins, the location near where the hitchhikers happened upon the Hazelton family. It was also the location where he derived the vial of VX had been discovered. A slight physical response ov
ercame him as he considered how the Hazelton family must have suffered in those final horrendous minutes in their car.

  After a brief pause to reflect on the horror, Noble chose not to use the highlighter to connect the line to the next pushpin on the map. Instead, out of respect for a fellow officer, he used his finger to freehand the drawing of a star—the universal emblem adopted by law enforcement agencies—marking the spot where the helicopter pilot sighted Agent Darrow’s body.

  Noble sat back and stared at his artistry. Then he bolted upright in a state of shock.

  “Oh, my God.”

  He felt his heart thumping a bit from the excitement. Then, after swallowing hard, he froze the image and slowly turned the tablet to a ninety-degree angle to the right.

  He continued to stare at the screen with disbelief.

  After taking minutes to absorb what could be a coincidence or, at worst, a sick joke, he hit the forward button, typed in Max, and hit send.

  Noble was instantly drawn back to the text message Enzo had forwarded to him earlier—the message containing the same symbol—the message that read HEADS UP! .

  Still operating in high gear, he rapidly typed a message replying to the original SMS text sender of Enzo’s message. His message simply said, SEE YOU SOON! Noble then swiftly used a special app tracking device to locate the longitude and latitude of the sender’s smartphone. It was in the process of receiving the message. Literally, nanoseconds later, the following coordinates appeared on his screen: 40° 45’ N, 111° 53’ W.

  They were for Salt Lake City—the location of Simon’s smartphone.

  Noble had his confirmation.

  13

  THE STRATAGEM

  Max, what are you doing here? I thought you’d just send a government car.”

  “You forward an explosive e-mail like that to me and expect me to sit still? What the hell is going on?” she questioned excitedly.

  “I honestly don’t know.” Noble shook his head, clearly without a rational explanation.

  Max instinctively grabbed Noble’s briefcase to free his hand, allowing him to manage his luggage.

  They both headed out of the airport.

  “Do you really think Simon has something to do with the Dead Zone?”

  Noble put his left index finger over his lips and cautioned, “Wait until we’re in the car.”

  They entered the rear seat of the sedan from opposite sides. Max hit the button straightaway, closing the soundproof window separating the front and rear seats, placing the driver out of earshot.

  Noble was the first to speak. “Simon has to be involved in some way, but I’m also convinced he’s involved in the bombings in Europe as well.”

  “Is there a connection?” Max gasped.

  “That’s the ultimate question.”

  “Do you really believe Simon dumped the bodies in specific locations—in our Dead Zone—knowing you would somehow connect the dots to reveal his calling card?” Max let out a deep breath, waiting impatiently for Noble’s response.

  “Simon’s brilliant, but I still believe our victims spotted something or, in the case of the Hazelton Family, found something. I’m not sure it was a sheer coincidence that drawing a line from location to location would create a half circle, or crescent moon to be exact. I suspect it’s Simon’s handiwork.”

  “What about Agent Darrow’s body?”

  “Perhaps, leaving a law enforcement officer in that precise location was the perfect opportunity for Simon to continue his cat and mouse game.”

  “Cat and mouse? I don’t get it.”

  Noble explained that Enzo had received a message from Simon, claiming responsibility for the New Year’s Eve bombings, immediately following the nightly air-searches that began in the Dead Zone.

  “And you don’t think that was a coincidence?” Max questioned skeptically.

  “No, I’m positive he was trying to lure me to Europe to distract me from our missing persons cases. He may have presumed we were on to something. Then, when Darrow exposed the tunnel, it gave Simon an opportunity to lure me back. Unfortunately, at the agent’s peril.”

  “Why would he want to lure you back intentionally unless, of course, he was planning to trap you?”

  “I think you just answered your own question.”

  “If Simon is involved in all of these events—we’re in for big trouble.”

  Then, just as Noble was about to ask her what they had discovered in the tunnel and at the other mines, the car pulled through the White House gate.

  Max followed Noble into his conference room and they sat down across from each other at the table, which had become an essential part of their modus operandi. Plastered on the touch-screen display in front of Noble’s view was a map of the Dead Zone, including his highlighted additions.

  “Okay, tell me what’s happening.” He braced himself.

  Max explained that Agent Burke, Darrow’s replacement, and a few troops entered the Bell Hill Mine. They walked through the mineshaft tunnel for about a mile. Suddenly, the tunnel morphed into a new modern tunnel with lighting. Also, they discovered several Segway Personal Transporters.

  “Was that in Darrow’s report?”

  “No, perhaps he never had the opportunity to finish it,” Max remarked, as she envisioned the terrible fate the agent met.

  Noble sensed the same disappointment, but forced her back on point. “Don’t they use the Segways at Dugway for patrolling?”

  “Yeah, and they were the same model. But wait until you hear the rest. There were only three transporters, so the agent and two of the soldiers rode them farther into the tunnel while the others waited behind.” Max arduously continued to explain how they followed the tunnel for another nine miles, which took little time on the transporters. She clarified that a commercial Segway could travel at a speed of up to 12.5 mph. However, the Army had souped-up their Segways to operate at a speed of 25 mph. “Twenty-one minutes later they reached the end of the tunnel.”

  “What was at the end of the tunnel?” Noble urged with emphasis.

  “A large steel door, just as Darrow had described when he called in his report.” She detected the strain in his voice.

  “Cut to the chase.” Noble requested with more calm. He tried to stay focused, although jetlag began to overtake him.

  “To the right of that door is an Intelli-Pass biometric fingerprint ID system, the same model used by the military” Finally, Max paused and waited for Noble’s assessment.

  “So, Darrow was correct; everything reeks of a military installation. And the base commander swears they knew nothing about the tunnel?”

  “That’s what he alleges.”

  “Then someone must have seen Darrow leave the Bell Hill Mine and concluded he’d discovered an entrance to something.”

  “Or someone—possibly Simon?” Max questioned with an arched brow.

  “If it was someone, most likely it was one of Simon’s accomplices.” Disgusted, Noble quickly asked, “Whom did you say replaced Darrow?”

  “Agent Burke. Thus far, he has joined the fray and appears to be on board, allowing us to steer the investigation.”

  “Great!” Apparently Noble was aroused coming out of his lull. “Did they find similar tunnels at the Joy and Silver City mines?”

  “The troops trudged through each of the tunnels as far as they could but, within a few miles, in both tunnels, it became precariously dangerous and they were ordered to stop. Ostensibly, they are impassable and lead nowhere.”

  “In any case, I want them to continue to stake out all three mines. Also, instruct the base commander to carry on the night flights. If something is going on out there, we might get lucky and pick up some activity. In the meantime, update the map to show the location and direction of the tunnels.”

  “Let’s hope they lead us to something of interest.” As Max headed toward the door, she jibed, “Thanks for grounding the agency jet.” Then, with less mockery, she informed Noble that she was scheduled to
leave the next day at noon on a military transport out of Andrews Air Force Base. “I’ll be arriving at Dugway’s Michael Army Airfield around three.”

  “Suck up, Max. Times are tough. Stop in here in the morning before you take off. I’ll have something for you to take with you.”

  “Later.” Max waved her hand in the air and walked out of the room.

  “Mad Dog.”

  “Hey, Mr. B, how’s it goin’?”

  “I wish I could say splendid, but I need you to do something for me on the QT,” Noble stated in a muffled tone, as if someone else were in the room.

  “Director, as always, I’m here at your disposal. Use me and abuse me.”

  “Take down this number, 8-6-9 dash 5-7-4 dash 1 point 2. You will have two hours, starting from the moment I hang up this phone, to download whatever it is you need from this top-secret file. And then you’ll be locked out.”

  “What gives?” Mad Dog’s curiosity was piqued.

  “I need you to make me a prosthetic thumbprint from a photo. Is that possible?”

  “I’ve worked miracles for you in the past. But from a photo, that’s a moon shot.”

  “Mad Dog, for you, nothing’s impossible. That’s why I rely on you. Oh, by the way, did I mention I needed it by nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  “No problem. That gives me fourteen hours, minus food and sleep, of course. You’re a real sweetheart, boss.”

  “Night, Mad Dog. Thanks.” Noble hung up, glanced at his watch, and realized he had barely enough time to meet Amanda without being late.

  14

  THE INTERMEDIARY

  Noble carefully angled his key into the lock. Abruptly, the door swung open and before he was able to utter a word, he found himself wrapped in a passionate kiss. Several enjoyable minutes later, he pulled back from the embrace and whispered, “It’s nice to be home.”

  “You look uptight—even after that kiss,” Amanda inferred as she curled her lips slightly. Then, she insisted, “Give me your jacket and go relax while I pour you a glass of wine.”