24 Declassified: Trojan Horse

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” Tony was appalled at the note of panic in his voice, but he couldn’t control it, or the fear mounting inside him.

“MynameisOrdog. WhatIwantfromyou areanswers. If you give them to me, you will be spared much agony. If you do not, you will suffer before you die.”

“I don’t know anything about Lesser, or what he’s doing. Only that he owes me money, and—”

Ordog gripped the handle with a meaty hand, cranked the ancient generator. After a few turns, sparks exploded across the box springs and electric fire burned through Tony’s entire body. He jerked helplessly as volts crackled through him. Then the fat man ceased cranking. Tony sagged against his bonds.

“Do not delude yourself, Mr. Navarro, or whatever your name is. You will die in this room. It’s up to you to decide if you’ll perish after prolonged agony, or mercifully quick.”

1:39:54 P.M. PDT La Hacienda Tijuana, Mexico

Milo used his cell phone, connected to the secure and scrambled monitor in Fay Hubley’s computer, to contact Nina Myers at CTU Los Angeles. He reported Fay Hubley’s death and Tony’s capture by Chechens working with Seises Seises. He also told Nina that he’d located Richard Lesser — who was now fast asleep in the hotel bed — and about the computer virus attack scheduled for midnight — an attack that might or might not have been thwarted by Lesser’s defection.

“You’re sure Lesser has the only copy of the virus?” Nina asked.

“I’m not sure,” Milo replied. “But he has a thumb drive with a copy of the virus on it. Working with a sample of the virus, we can find a cure, or work on a way to shield the web servers from its effects.”

“Can you trust him?”

“Lesser is an asshole in so many ways,” said Milo. “But I believe him now. He’s scared of the Chechens, of what they are capable of. He’d rather face charges in the States than let this cyber attack take place.”

Nina contemplated his words. “Then it is imperative that you get Lesser and the data on that thumb drive across the border immediately. I’ll have an extraction team at the border, and a helicopter waiting at Brown Field Municipal Airport to fly you to L.A.”

Milo paused. Nina’s command was sane and rational, and he wanted very much to obey her. “No,” he said at last. “I have to try to rescue Tony first.”

“You’re not a field agent and you’re not even armed.”

“No, but I have someone with me who’s ready to help. Cole Keegan, Richard Lesser’s bodyguard.”

“You can’t do this, Milo. It’s too important we get Lesser back. Tony knew what he was getting himself into —”

“Tony knew, but Fay didn’t. I can’t help Fay, but I refuse to give up on Tony while he’s alive—”

“Listen, Milo—”

“Me and Cole Keegan worked out a plan that we think will work,” said Milo. “It’s a pretty solid plan and if it works I won’t even need a gun. But I will need two hours. I can grab Tony, and we’ll bring out Lesser together. We’ll all cross the border and be at the airport by four o’clock.”

Another pause. Cole, still guarding the door, pretended to ignore the conversation even as he hung on every word.

“Okay,” Nina relented. “Two hours. No more.”

Milo thanked his boss and signed off. Then he faced Cole Keegan. “So, do you have a plan? ’Cause I sure don’t.”

To Milo’s surprise, Cole nodded. “There’s someone who can help us. A woman at Little Fishes, one of the girls. She knows everything that goes on at the brothel and in the old building behind it.”

Cole shot Milo a surprisingly sheepish look. “Her name’s Brandy — at least that’s what she calls herself. I kind of promised her I’d get her out when Lesser and I made our escape, but everything happened so fast I had to leave her behind.”

“And you think she’ll still help you?”

“Brandy’s pragmatic. She knows the score. If you give her what she wants, she’ll cooperate.”

Milo was skeptical. “So how do I find this Brandy?”

“Meeting a whore ain’t hard in Tijuana. Just go to the brothel and ask to see her.”

“But…But I can’t do that!” sputtered Milo. “Why don’t you go? Brandy knows you.”

“And everyone there knows me, but they don’t know you,” Cole replied. “If I walk into that brothel, those Chechens are gonna ask me a whole lot of questions I can’t answer.”

“But I don’t look like the kind of guy who goes to a brothel, do I?”

“What kind of guy is that?” Cole asked.

Milo thought it over. “Good point,” he said.

“Look,” said Cole, “El Pequenos Pescados is always crowded at lunchtime — gringo truckers, mostly, coming across the border for a freight pickup and a quickie. Keep your mouth shut and your ears open and they’ll just think you’re another road rat.”

“Come on—”

“When you find Brandy, tell her you know me, and that you’re there to help her get out of Mexico, and I guarantee she’ll help you find your missing agent — if he’s still alive, that is.”

1:47:14 P.M. PDT Palm Drive Beverly Hills

Major Salah’s men bristled. They could not believe the American CTU agent had been given permission to interview Ibn al Farad — and by the boy’s own father! The men, members of the elite Saudi Special Forces Brigade, had just fought — and two of them had just died — to prevent the American authorities from capturing the Saudi citizen. Now Jack Bauer was interrogating Ibn al Farad, subjecting the boy to unknown tortures in the back room of his aunt’s home.

Sensing the unrest in his men, Major Salah divided them to quell a potential mutiny. He left several behind to guard the house, and dispatched two others to the front gate to watch for any sign of the American authorities. After that, he further divided his forces, sending the wounded men to their beds, and placing two armed men outside the study occupied by Jack Bauer and the rest. With his unit spread all over the mansion, the Major headed outside to check on the gate sentries posted in a gazebo on the other side of the wall from Palm Drive. Not surprisingly, Major Salah found the two men locked in a debate.

“You cannot trust the American authorities,” Corporal Hourani was saying. “Their injustices are well known.”

“Known by whom?” Sergeant Raschid replied.

“I learned of America’s treachery as a boy in the madrassas. And from the Hollywood movies that truly depict this country’s evil, its racism. Have you never seen Mississippi Burning?”

Sergeant Raschid shook his head. “I only watch James Bond movies. And Jackie Chan.”

“I suggest you both keep your eyes on the road,” Major Salah interrupted. “There is a vehicle approaching the gate.” As the Major stepped into view, his men jerked to attention. “You are supposed to be on sentry duty,” he admonished, “not discussing Hollywood movies.”

“I beg your forgiveness, Major,” Sergeant Raschid said, eyes forward.

“At ease,” the Major replied with a hint of a smile. “I only meant to alert you that a vehicle is approaching, in case you had not noticed.”

Sergeant Raschid hefted his M-16 as the electronic gate swung open, and a white Dodge van swung into the driveway.

“It is probably a routine delivery,” said Major Salah. “But see what they want.”

Sergeant Raschid and Corporal Hourani turned their backs on their commander as the van approached the gazebo. Eyes on the approaching vehicle, the soldiers did not see Major Salah slip two six-inch black stilettos out of hidden sheaths. And their deaths were so quick the two men barely felt the simultaneous thrusts that plunged the cold, hard steel blades deep into their brains.

The van rolled to a halt in front of the gazebo a moment later. The passenger door opened. Major Salah stepped over the dead men and climbed into the cab next to the blond-haired, blue-eyed driver. Behind them, a half dozen armed, masked men huddled inside the van’s cargo bay.

“I have observed the American intelligence agent and learned that CTU knows nothing. Once Ibn is dead, their only connection to Hasan will be severed.”