Part 18 (1/2)
”Clear here.”
”All clear!”
”Anybody hurt?” Joe Smith called. A chorus of negatives greeted him. Only then did he realize the ambush was over - and he hadn't fired a shot.
Martin Eden rose from his hiding place and ran toward the wreck, Ryan Chappelle on his heels. Other men emerged from hiding and swarmed over the smashed truck, checking the bodies, then the contents of the cargo bay.
”I got nine unfriendlies down, no survivors,” Moe Howard declared. ”There are some maps and stuff in the cab. Might be intel. Might be c.r.a.p.”
”I don't know about intel, but there are enough guns and ammo here to start a war,” Larry Fine said, shaking his head.
”There must be a ton of C-4, too, manufactured with easy-set timers and ready to go,” Smith observed, his facade of calm suddenly cracking.
As they fumbled through the wreckage, reality began to dawn on all of them as the magnitude of the threat was slowly revealed.
Finally, Martin Eden faced Ryan Chappelle. ”Jack Bauer says there are eleven more trucks on the prowl just like this one, right?”
”That's right.”
Eden frowned. ”Then G.o.d help us.”
15.
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 9:00 P.M. AND 10:00 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME.
9:10:20 P.M. EDT.
Eight hundred feet above Interstate 495 New Jersey Jack Bauer leaned through the door of the CTU helicopter, wind tearing at his hair. His right hand gripped the exit bar. His left clutched a thick rope attached to a winch on the side of the fuselage.
A six-lane highway rolled under the belly of the racing Sikorsky, a long ribbon of glowing headlights against a crowded urban landscape. In the distance, Bauer could see the Manhattan skyline glittering against the violet sky.
”You're telling me one of the trucks is down there?” Jack yelled into his headset. His heart was racing and he was ignoring a cold sweat.
”Yes,” said Morris.
”I need confirmation!”
”Right,” said Morris. ”I'll forward the satellite feed to the navigational computer inside your chopper. Give me a moment...”
”I've got the target on-screen now, Agent Bauer,” Captain Fogarty informed him seconds later.
Jack strained to hear the voices over the throb of the pounding rotors. He released the rope, increased the volume on his headset, and twisted the earphone tighter.
”This truck was holed up in the parking lot of Giants Stadium since early afternoon,” Morris explained. ”About an hour ago, Meadowlands security finally got suspicious and dispatched officers to check out the vehicle. Two guards were killed; a third is in critical condition and not expected to live.
And the truck, as you can obviously see from my tracking, got away from them.”
”And you're positive you've locked on the right vehicle?” Jack pressed.
”The survivor managed to get the license number,” said Morris. ”The truck's from Kurmastan.”
The increasingly bizarre pattern of attack puzzled Jack. A highway rest stop. A gas farm. Then a failed a.s.sault on a military training school.
”Why did they stop at the stadium?” Jack asked Morris.
”Did they plant explosives there before they left?”
”Unlikely. The New Jersey State Police and the bomb-sniffing dogs have been going over every inch of the Meadowlands Sports Center. They're still looking,” Morris answered. ”But so far they've found nothing.”
”Why would the terrorists hole up in a parking lot?” Jack wondered aloud. ”Could they be on some kind of schedule?”
”I've no idea,” Morris replied. ”But we've got this vehicle locked. I'm watching a live satellite feed of the truck right now. You're practically on top of it, Jack-o.”
Jack gazed at the river of headlights below. ”Can you guess where they're going?”
”Into the Lincoln Tunnel,” said Morris.
Jack instantly pictured thousands of commuters, driving under the Hudson, rolling into the heart of Manhattan. He flashed on midtown, Broadway, Times Square, theaters, restaurants, all jammed with tourists, office workers, families - innocent targets.
Jack's jaw clenched. ”I need to stop that truck before it gets to the tunnel.”
”You?” said Morris. ”Jack, listen to me. I can have a local SWAT team at the tunnel exit in ten minutes...” said Morris. ”Jack, listen to me. I can have a local SWAT team at the tunnel exit in ten minutes...”
”No. The men in that truck know they're hunted. They'll react like trapped animals at any sign of the authorities. And there's a risk of collateral damage if the police respond recklessly.”
”Jack, let the authorities handle it.”
”What if that vehicle is a truck bomb they plan to detonate inside the tunnel? It will be Oklahoma City times ten.”
Captain Fogarty called to Jack from the c.o.c.kpit. ”What do you want to do, Bauer?”
”Where's the truck now?” Jack asked.
”It's two hundred feet under us. I'm watching it with our belly camera right now,” the pilot replied.
”Good. I can make a fast-rope descent. If I can get on the back of the trailer, I can...”
”Fast-rope out of a moving chopper?” Fogarty cut in.
”You're nuts, Bauer...”
”I've done it before,” Jack insisted. ”Get me down to an alt.i.tude of fifty feet. All I need is a wide open s.p.a.ce, a short stretch of highway without high tension wires or an overpa.s.s.”
Fogarty shook his head. ”I don't like it, but if you're serious, I can put you over the ramp.”