Part 6 (1/2)
5.
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 11:00 A.M. AND 12:00 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME.
11:00:16 A.M. EDT.
CTU Headquarters, NYC On the ground, the silencer digging into his temple, Jack had no time to make a move before the final gunshot. When it came, Jack felt no pain. Instead, the pressure against his skull simply fell away.
Jack instantly realized he hadn't been shot. The blond man lurched backward, onto the fire escape, one limp hand brus.h.i.+ng at the quickly spreading red stain on his blue s.h.i.+rt.
As Jack pulled his weapon, a second bullet caught the blond man in the throat. The blond dropped his gun, and his body pitched against the metal railing. Limply, without a sound, he fell headfirst into the street below.
Glancing around, Jack saw Tony Almeida, Glock still in hand. Tony walked over, helped Jack to his feet.
”Jack, are you...”
”I'm fine,” Jack said hoa.r.s.ely.
Tony stepped back, holstered his weapon.
Jack closed his eyes, took a breath. With every move, he was battered by waves of dizziness. Ignoring the pain, he opened his eyes, reholstered his own Glock.
Tony stepped to the fire escape and peered over the railing. ”Sorry, Jack. I know you wanted one of them alive.”
”Forget it,” Jack rasped. ”Let's find out what they were up to.”
It took them less than a minute to find the bomb. It was planted at the base of the microwave communications array - a digital clock connected to a two-pound bundle of C-4.
Jack crouched low, fighting a wave of nausea. ”I can defuse this,” he said.
Tony pulled him away. ”You're in no condition to do this. Let me handle it.”
Before Jack could protest, the cell phone went off in his pocket. He answered, ”Bauer.”
”It's me, Jack-o,” Morris said. ”Where have you run off to?”
”I've been... busy,” Jack said.
”I have news,” Morris continued. ”Both good and bad.”
”Okay,” Jack said while he watched Tony use a gravity knife to sever the wire that led from the explosive charge to the timer. Tony then opened the back of the clock and removed a small battery. Immediately, the numbers stopped flas.h.i.+ng and the digital face went dark.
Jack quietly exhaled.
”Are you there, Jack?” Morris demanded. ”It's not polite to ignore a man who's called you.”
”I'm here,” Jack replied wearily. ”What have you got for me? The good news.”
”I've broken through Brice Holman's security firewall,” Morris declared with a hint of pride. ”The contents of the Director's computer are yours to peruse.”
”Good work, Morris. What's the downside?”
The memory's been wiped clean. Holman's cache is empty. And get this... According to the computer log, the memory was wiped this morning at six twenty-one A.M.”
”Then there's a mole in CTU New York. Maybe more than one. We checked the entry logs. We know Brice Holman was never here today. That means somebody else deleted those files.” Jack paused, rubbed his aching temple. ”How about the laptop I brought you?”
”I'm afraid all Fredo Mangella was doing was converting currency. Dollars into euros. Millions of them. It was all on the up-and-up.” Morris frowned. ”Might be a dead end, Jack.”
”No,” Jack insisted. ”It's important, but I don't know why. Not yet. We're still missing a piece of the puzzle.”
”I'll keep looking, but all I see are recipes and payroll records. You won't believe what an executive chef earns!”
”Listen, Morris. One more thing. Tony Almeida has a device for you to check out.”
Morris sighed. ”Now what would that be, boss? A computer? Another laptop?”
”A bomb,” Jack replied.
11:28:05 A.M. EDT.
CTU Headquarters, NYC After swallowing two cups of black coffee and three Advils, Jack felt considerably better. Tony had gone back to finis.h.i.+ng his work on the security system, and Morris had taken the explosive device to the blast-proof room for further examination.
Now Jack was sitting behind Brice Holman's desk, waking his computer out of hibernation. The firewalls were down and Holman's computer cache was empty, as Morris had said.
Jack moved to the nonsecured files Holman kept, and ran a search using keywords FBI, DEA, FBI, DEA, and and ATF. ATF. At first dozens of interagency alerts came up - practically all of them were Most Wanted List updates, Amber Alerts, or government releases. Jack filtered them out. At first dozens of interagency alerts came up - practically all of them were Most Wanted List updates, Amber Alerts, or government releases. Jack filtered them out.
Then he found the draft of an e-mail to Judith Foy. Holman had never finished or sent the message, but the e-mail mentioned ”our friends at the FBI” and ”Jello and Rollo,” obviously code names.
Jack punched the intercom and summoned Layla Abernathy.
”I want you to contact Andrew McConnell,” he told her the moment she walked in.
”The Director of the local FBI office?”
”That's right. I want you to ask him if any of his agents are involved in an investigation of the Warriors of G.o.d, Imam Ali Rahman al Sallifi, or the compound at Kurmastan.”
Layla nodded. ”Anything else?”
”Don't be upset if you don't get any answers. Just report back to me. I want to know what McConnell says, word for word. His tone, his att.i.tude, his inflection.”
”If you want all that, why can't you talk to him yourself?” she asked.
”You'll see,” was Jack's only reply.
11:33:16AM. EDT.