“The stairs are filled with smoke, and there are only two protective suits,” Pizarro said.
Balboa glanced at the woman in the hall, then back at his brother. “Take them. You and the woman. And do it quick. I am sure the authorities will be here soon.”
“And the child?”
Balboa frowned. “I will keep her as a bargaining chip.”
To Pizarro’s surprise, his brother chuckled. “This
“But how will you get out, elude the
Balboa handed his brother the oxygen masks, overalls.
“I’ll manage,” he replied. “In any case, someone must continue on with the next part of this operation. Better that someone is you.”
“But—”
Balboa silenced his brother with a gesture. “I see how you look at that woman, Pizarro. I’ve known you all your life and you never looked at any woman that way before. So I want you to escape, and take her with you! I will provide a diversion, then join you at the rendezvous.”
14. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 1 A.M. AND 2 A.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME
Tony Almeida returned to his cramped quarters in Dormitory B, stripped off his sweat-stained shirt and lobbed it in the general direction of the overflowing hamper in the corner. He wanted nothing more than to grab a hot shower and a good night’s sleep, but could do neither until he checked in with CTU.
Still in his sweatpants and sneakers, Tony powered up the laptop on the desk. Waiting for the system to boot, he stretched sore muscles.
His day should have ended hours ago, after Senator David Palmer cancelled the Malignant Wave program on the spot. But instead of dismantling the device and storing it in Hangar Six, Dr. Megan Reed ordered the crew to install the Malignant Wave engine in the Blackfoot stealth helicopter in Hangar Five, ahead of the scheduled Tuesday morning deployment test.
It was, Tony felt, an exercise in reality denial. When Dr. Reed delivered news of Palmer’s cancellation to the rest of the staff, it was Dr. Phillip Bascomb who reacted most strongly.
“I’ve dedicated my professional life, since my days at Berkeley, to develop non-lethal technology as a means to render war less odious,” he’d said. “Sure, the wave causes permanent brain damage
“Sorry, Phillip,” Dr. Reed replied, turning her perfectionist streak on herself. “I didn’t make a cogent argument. I let you all down.”
But it was Beverly Chang’s reaction that surprised them all.
“No one has officially notified us that the project has been cancelled,” she said. “Senator Palmer is only one member of a committee. The other members may have a different view. We should proceed with our test schedule until ordered to do otherwise.”
Dr. Reed agreed, and set them all to work immediately. They lowered the device from the tower, moved it to Hangar Five and loaded it into the bay of the experimental helicopter. Then they began work on the electronics. It was close to eleven o’clock before the device was finally installed, along with a temporary weapons panel mounted in the cockpit.
Steve Sable wanted to knock off at that point, but Dr. Chang pushed them to conduct diagnostic tests on the control panel. It was after midnight when Tony and Steve finished, and Dr. Sable headed off to bed while Tony shut down the computers and stowed the equipment.
Now Tony stifled a yawn, wearily tapped in a code that switched him over to the secret ARPANET pathways, where he could safely retrieve the intelligence Jamey sent him. Tony was shocked back to wakefulness when he read the analysis of the data taken from Dr. Steve Sable’s phone. His suspicions had been correct. Sable
Tony also learned that one of Bix’s henchmen had been caught with top secret Area 51 technology earlier that day. The evidence seemed incontrovertible now. It was clear he would have to move against Dr. Steve Sable in the next twenty-four hours, before the man had a chance to pass more top secret research technology to Hugo Bix.
Fingers poised over the keyboard, Tony was about to send an update to Jamey when he heard a sound behind him, saw the shadow fall across the desk. Tony looked up, saw the wrench in the intruder’s upraised hand. He tried to cover his head with his arms as the first blow descended.
Lilly rushed to the man she knew as Jaycee as soon as the elevator doors opened. She ignored the woman with him, and the big man from the Cha-Cha Lounge named Curtis.
“They’re gone,” she cried. “I heard shots a minute ago. I went back to the corridor, and they were gone.”
That’s when they heard another shot, this one aimed at them. The crack of the Russian handgun echoed off the walls. The bullet missed Nina’s head by an inch, punched a hole in the plaster.
“Lock the elevator so no one can use it, then fan out,” Jack commanded. He stared down the barrel of his Glock as he methodically checked the corridors around him.
The woman moved to the right, Curtis to the left. Lilly led Jaycee back to the hall. They moved slowly, wary of ambush.
“There were three of them, right here,” Lilly said when they reached the corridor outside the maintenance room. “Stella had my daughter. When I came back, they were gone.“
Jack was about to check to see if the door was unlocked. He was interrupted by a child’s scream.
“That’s Pamela,” Lilly cried.
Jack believed the noise came from the kitchen. The girl’s voice had an echoing quality that made him think of tile walls and hard, bare floors. He searched the kitchen for five minutes and came up empty.
Of Curtis and Nina, there was no sign. Perhaps they had picked up the man’s trail. Jack was about to complete a wide circle of the ballroom when he heard shouts — then another shot.
Jack burst through the kitchen’s double doors, Glock clutched in his fist. The ballroom was in shambles, broken glass and shattered shards from fallen chandeliers littered the floor. The room was packed, too, though the crowd seemed to be parting, as people scattered to escape the armed man carrying a little girl slung over his shoulders.
Jack stepped into the middle of the debris strewn floor, aimed the Glock. “Halt or I’ll shoot!” he cried. Lilly stumbled through the kitchen doors, saw her daughter and cried out. “Please let my daughter go!”
The man turned, squeezed a shot off in Jack’s general direction. People screamed and dived for cover. Bauer didn’t even flinch as the bullet ripped past his ear.
“Stop now or I
But Balboa Rojas refused to stop. He ran through the broken window frame, onto the crumbling balcony. Jack cursed, lowered his weapon and chased the man.
When he reached the balcony, Balboa turned, held the girl in front of him like a human shield. He pointed the muzzle of his Makarov PM at her head.
“If you do not drop your weapon, I will shoot,” Rojas declared. Jack saw movement out of the corner of his eye, but his vision remained fixed on Balboa Rojas. He crouched low and set the Glock on the ground, inching closer to the man.
“You don’t have to die up here,” Jack said reasonably, talking another step. “We can talk this through. If you have demands, I’m authorized by my government to listen to them.”
