Part 22 (1/2)
When Randall was finished, he deleted the original photos that Foy and Almeida had taken, replacing them with the pictures he'd selected. Then he printed them out. A final check of the hard copies revealed no obvious flaws that might give his ploy away.
Ibrahim Noor owes me for this. Big time. Peter Randall's boyish face broke into a smile. Peter Randall's boyish face broke into a smile. And he's going to pay... And he's going to pay...
Satisfied with a job well done, Randall shut down the security console and swung around in his office chair - to find the interim director and two security men standing over him.
”D-Director Henderson, c-can I help you...”
The tranquilizer dart hit Randall in the throat, and he gagged once. The drug took immediate effect, and he slipped out of the chair and hit the floor.
”Put this son of a b.i.t.c.h in a detention cell and prep him for interrogation,” Henderson said.
The security men each grabbed an arm and roughly hauled the unconscious man toward the elevator.
Henderson faced Morris...o...b..ian, who'd been lurking in the hallway.
”Good job, O'Brian,” Henderson said. ”But how did you know Peter Randall was a mole?”
Morris shrugged. ”I was suspicious of him already, but the real trap was the cache number I gave him. Access to cache twenty-two is only permitted to personnel one level above Randall's security clearance. Randall was so overconfident, he didn't think to ask me for the pa.s.sword to cover his b.u.t.tocks. That's when I knew something was up - that he had all of the pa.s.swords already.”
Henderson offered the man a thin smile. ”So what made you suspicious of him in the first place?”
”Everyone resisted us when we first got here, Agent Abernathy included. They dodged Jack Bauer's direct questions and all but refused to cooperate. Peter Randall was the exception. He was there from the start, ready to step in and do anything we asked of him.”
Morris paused. ”I figured the little b.u.g.g.e.r had to have something up his sleeve. No one is that that helpful without an ulterior motive.” helpful without an ulterior motive.”
19.
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 1:00 A.M. AND 2:00 A.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME.
1:02:10AM. EDT.
Conference Room CTU Headquarters, NYC Jack Bauer was the last partic.i.p.ant to appear on the videoconferencing screen. He sat in a Danish modern living room. Behind him, a sliding gla.s.s door framed the night sky above Central Park's treetops. A few feet away, on a chair of cream-colored leather, a pale form sat limply, bound by electrical cords. Blood pooled on the polished hardwood floor at the corpse's feet.
Christ, what a mess, thought Christopher Henderson, sitting up in his chair. thought Christopher Henderson, sitting up in his chair. Bauer better have something. Bauer better have something.
Jack peered into the computer camera, then his hand disappeared from view while he adjusted the volume. ”Can you hear me?” he asked.
”We hear you, Jack.” Henderson tossed his pen onto the tabletop. ”We can see you, too. And I know you can't see us from your location, so I'll make the introductions. Richard Walsh is on the line from Los Angeles. Hershel Berkovic, Director of CTU's Economic Warfare Division, is conferencing in from Langley, and Dr. Guilling from the Satellite Surveillance Division is here with me in New York.”
”What's the current status on the trucks from Kurmastan?” Jack asked.
Sitting across the table from Henderson, the portly man with the brown comb-over and horn-rimmed gla.s.ses said, ”Ted Guilling here. The trucks in Carlisle and Atlantic City were intercepted and neutralized. Another truck detonated its explosives at the General Aviation plant in Rutland, with many casualties.”
Wheezing, Guilling paused to suck on an asthma atomizer. ”But there's good news, too. Fifteen minutes ago, U.S. Navy military police intercepted two trucks outside the Bethesda Naval Station. Our forces suffered some casualties, but the terrorists were stopped and their bombs failed to detonate...”
”What about the trucks heading for Boston?” Jack interrupted.
”We think that intelligence may may be bogus,” Guilling replied. be bogus,” Guilling replied.
”What do you mean may,” may,” Jack quietly challenged. Jack quietly challenged.
c.r.a.p, here it comes... Henderson glared a warning at Guilling to be careful. It was Jack who'd brought in that information, and they really didn't need Bauer blowing his top with Walsh Henderson glared a warning at Guilling to be careful. It was Jack who'd brought in that information, and they really didn't need Bauer blowing his top with Walsh and and Langley on the line. Langley on the line.
Guilling took another hit on his asthma atomizer, then earnestly explained, ”We've combed all the routes from New Jersey to Boston with satellites, surveillance cameras, state and local police, and we haven't located a single truck, let alone two.”
Jack didn't blink. ”Maybe they stopped somewhere.” He leaned closer to the camera. ”Maybe the trucks are hidden.” hidden.”
Guilling's head bobbed. ”It's possible.”
”Walsh here, Jack.”
Henderson rubbed his bloodshot eyes, relieved to hear Walsh speak up. The big man with the walrus mustache was CTU's Administrative Director, and the most senior person on this call. Henderson also knew that Jack Bauer respected few men in the CIA's bureaucracy more than Richard Walsh.
”I think we're all in agreement that we need to keep our eyes open,” Walsh continued. ”We should keep sweeping the Boston routes, but not at the exclusion of other possibilities if additional leads come in. Now... as I understand the situation, Jack, counting the truck you personally stopped outside the Lincoln Tunnel, half of the twelve trucks have been located and neutralized, one way or another. Which means, according to Brice Holman's intelligence, there are still six more trucks to find.”
”Right,” Jack said. ”And what about the leaks at CTU New York? Christopher? Have they been plugged?”
Henderson tensed. He hadn't expected to discuss that particular matter on this call, and he didn't appreciate Bauer's bluntness. But he was careful to answer with smoothness and control.
”We think so, Jack. Rachel Delgado, New York's deputy head of Security, has been cross-identified as a former member of Newark's Thirteen Gang. I haven't interrogated Peter Randall yet, but...”
”Randall?” Jack frowned. ”I thought Layla Abernathy...”
”She's been cleared,” Henderson broke in. ”Randall set her up, even planted incriminating information in Agent Abernathy's personal computer, knowing we'd find it. Thanks to O'Brian, we know the truth now. Agent Abernathy is innocent. She's recovering in the infirmary...”
”Release her,” Jack demanded. ”I need her in the field...”
”Listen, Jack...” Henderson paused. ”She's had a rough time. A very rough time...”
”This isn't a request, Christopher. I need Agent Abernathy to successfully complete this mission.”
Henderson fell silent. He didn't like the idea of putting the woman back on line, but he could hear the steel in Jack's voice, and bickering with Bauer in front of the other men would sound childish at best.
What the h.e.l.l, if Bauer wants her...
”All right,” he finally relented. ”She'll be ready for action by the time you get back.”
”Listen,” Jack continued, ”I've been looking over the contents of Erno Tobias's computer. The Albino has been tracking currency futures. Foreign banks, financial inst.i.tutions in Europe, the Middle East, Asia - they're all lining up to dump U.S. currency. Billions of dollars.”
”Agent Bauer is correct,” said Hershel Berkovic. Close to sixty and bald, with close-set eyes and a slight facial twitch, the man spoke on the screen out of CIA's headquarters in Langley, Virginia. ”The EWD has a.n.a.lyzed the data coming in, including the contents of Mr. Tobias's computer, and the threat you described is very real - and very dangerous...”
”Excuse me?” Jack interrupted. ”Would the man speaking please identify himself.”
”This is Hershel Berkovic, Agent Bauer. I'm the director of CTU's Economic Warfare Division, and there is no reason for these monetary speculators to dump the dollar. Inflation is low, productivity high. Our American economy is sound, the stock market stable...”
”What about the terror attacks?” Richard Walsh interrupted from Los Angeles. ”Don't you think they'll put a dent in our stock market come morning?”