Part 9 (2/2)

Holman had checked into the Novelty Inn a few hours before. As soon as he got to the room, he had showered and shaved. Still dripping, he tried to call Judy Foy again, and then again, but got only her voice mail. He wanted to call Jason Emmerick next, to see if the two ”packages” had arrived on the Montreal to Newark flight, but it was just too risky.

Bad enough Emmerick and his partner, Leight, were communicating with Judy nearly every day. At least the three of them had concocted a phony cover story about a smuggling ring working out of Newark International to cover their tracks.

If Holman tried to contact Emmerick, it would set off alarms at the Bureau and prompt an investigation that might compromise, or even expose the rogue operation.

Better to wait for the rendezvous at noon, Holman had decided. He could talk to the two FBI agents then.

But noon came and went with no sign of Emmerick or Leight. When Holman finally relented and called them, he got voice mail and left no message.

By one P.M., Holman knew something had gone wrong. Either the situation at the compound was exploding, and Foy, Emmerick, and Leight were caught up in it. Or his Deputy Director and the two FBI agents had been taken into custody by their superiors, the rogue operation exposed. If that was the case, they were looking for him right now.

Either way, Holman was effectively alone. He knew he had to act, had to get inside that compound in Kurmastan. Unfortunately, there was only one way to do that, now, and it involved endangering civilians who might already be in danger.

His decision made, Holman hurriedly dressed in fresh clothes and left the motel room. His destination was the Nazareth Unitarian Church in Milton, New Jersey, where a group led by United States Congresswoman Hailey Williams and the pastor, Reverend James Wendell Ahern, were scheduled to travel to the compound and meet with one of its leaders, Ibrahim Noor.

As Holman guided his Ford Explorer out of the motel parking lot, he watched a truck rumble down Route 12, heading west. Holman realized the vehicle was from Kurmastan when he saw the Dreizehn Trucking logo on the unpainted aluminum frailer.

Holman wondered if the truck was carrying cardboard containers, or a more deadly cargo, like the one he'd seen earlier. If he was lucky, he'd know in a few hours.

Minutes later, Holman spied another Dreizehn Trucking frailer roar past him on the highway. This time he managed to snap a few pictures with the secure CTU cell phone camera, including a close-up of the license plate, before the truck roared around the bend and out of sight.

With a grim feeling that something ominous was stirring, Holman headed for the tiny town of Milton, on the banks of the Delaware River.

1:32:14 P.M. EDT.

Security Station One CTU Headquarters, NYC As soon as Jack Bauer returned to CTU Headquarters, he cleaned up and changed back into his own clothes. Sandy hair still damp, he summoned Morris and Layla to the security station.

”The bombers were Serbian,” Jack declared.

Morris appeared skeptical. ”Serbs working with Muslims? That doesn't make sense.”

The screen behind O'Brian displayed images of personnel from the NYPD Bomb Squad. The officers were swarming the roof and ascending the microwave tower on One World Trade Center, collecting the bombs that Jack had defused.

”I know about the religious tensions in Eastern Europe better than anyone,” Jack said. ”But those men were Serbs. I know because I spoke to one of them in his own language.”

Jack rubbed his forearm, where traces of ink still lingered. ”That man definitely recognized the 13 tattoo, and took me for an ally because I had one on my arm. It fooled him, long enough for me to get the drop on him, anyway.”

”Yet neither of these men had the 13 tattoo on any part of their bodies,” Layla observed. ”Neither did the PA policeman.”

Morris shook his head. ”Curiouser and curiouser.”

”What did you learn from that Port Authority cop?” Jack demanded.

”He admitted his guilt immediately,” said Layla. ”He claimed that he took a bribe to give those men access to the roof. They told him they were putting a device on the tower to steal cable signals.”

”And the idiot bought it?” Morris cried.

Layla shrugged. ”He didn't appear to be particularly bright.”

Jack glanced at the security camera images of the bomb squad at work. ”There's more to this than a bunch of paramilitary fanatics on a compound in New Jersey. We have to find out what the 13 symbol means and how it's connected to the compound at Kurmastan. And we need to know who's paying for out-of-town attack teams like the Serbs, and the hit men who tried to a.s.sa.s.sinate my team this morning.”

”You think it's all connected?” Layla asked.

Bauer ignored the question, posed his own. ”Do you know of any mystical, cultural, or political meaning to the number 13 in the Islamic faith?”

Frowning, Layla closed her laptop. Jack sensed her anger.

”Is something wrong with my question?”

Layla nodded. ”Earlier, you asked me why I was here in New York, and not at Langley, using my language skills to monitor the chatter among Middle Eastern terrorists.”

”That's right, I did.”

Layla's dark eyes remained fixed on the laptop. ”Here's my honest answer,” she said. ”These people on the compound, and the imams who inspire them, they are atavisms, perverted throwbacks to the seventh century. Medieval monsters who hearken back to a dark and terrible time. Their beliefs are an affront to reason. Frankly, as a Muslim - former Muslim, in my case - they are an embarra.s.sment.”

”You've lost your faith, then?” Jack asked.

Layla looked up. ”I've rejected rejected it, Special Agent Bauer. My religion. My heritage. All of it.” it, Special Agent Bauer. My religion. My heritage. All of it.”

”Listen,” Jack said. ”My last name. Bauer. It means 'farmer' in German.”

”So?” Layla replied.

”So I'm German. Should I be ashamed?”

She blinked. ”Ashamed of what?”

”The n.a.z.is? They brought Europe to its knees. They are responsible for the Holocaust. That's my heritage, according to your logic.”

Layla shook her head. ”That's not a reasonable comparison,” she replied. ”For starters, n.a.z.ism was a political movement, not a religious jihad. And the only American religious community with roots in Germany are the Amish. And as far as I know, the Pennsylvania Dutch are not a pack of paramilitary fanatics.”

Morris chuckled. ”She's got you by the b.o.l.l.o.c.ks on that one, Jack-o.”

”As an American, I choose to live in this this century,” Layla continued. ”And as a woman, I have no desire to spend my life in a burka, or in an arranged marriage, or traded for a goat.” century,” Layla continued. ”And as a woman, I have no desire to spend my life in a burka, or in an arranged marriage, or traded for a goat.”

”There are bad seeds in every race, creed, and religion,” Jack argued.

”Please, not that that lecture,” Layla said. ”I've heard it enough. From my stepfather. From my mother, too, a woman who should know better.” lecture,” Layla said. ”I've heard it enough. From my stepfather. From my mother, too, a woman who should know better.”

Jack opened his mouth. Layla silenced him with a raised hand.

”You won't change my mind, Agent Bauer.” Her expression was resolute. ”And for the record, we'll get along better if you don't even try.” Then Layla Abernathy rose, unplugged the laptop, and tucked it under her arm. ”If you need me, I'll be in my office.”

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