Morris opened the door to Brice Holman’s office without knocking, bounced the bomb onto the desk in front of Jack.
“What have you learned?” Jack asked.
“At first, nothing,” Morris said with a shrug. “Only that the C–4 was manufactured in Hungary, and that it didn’t take a rocket scientist to build this thing. The bomb is right out of the anarchist playbook. Except for one little thing.”
“Okay.” Jack swung around in his seat. “Explain.”
Morris sat down across from Jack. “Simple timer, two bricks of military-grade C–4, right?”
Jack nodded.
“Wrong,” Morris declared. “Watch this.”
Morris took one of the pasty, gray-white bricks of plastic explosives in his hand and broke it in half. He opened the two sections like a pomegranate, and displayed the insides to Jack.
“Is that a rock?” Jack asked.
“A pebble, actually,” Morris replied. “From a New Jersey beach no doubt. The other brick has one tucked inside of it, too.”
Jack rubbed his chin. “That doesn’t make any sense.
Stones make lousy shrapnel. Nails are better. And with half the C–4 gone from each brick—”
“More than half,” Morris replied. “The explosive potential of this device is fairly weak. In fact, this thing couldn’t do much more than bring down the microwave tower where you found it. That would put CTU New York out of action for a day or two, no longer.”
“That makes no sense,” Jack replied. “Why take all that trouble to sabotage the communications array? With a bigger bomb, the same two men could have destroyed this entire complex.”
“It’s obvious they didn’t want to do that. They wanted CTU operational. It’s the communications and satellite system they wanted disabled—”
The intercom buzzed, interrupting them.
Jack answered. “Yes?”
“It’s Tony. We just received a security alert from Langley. We’re to increase the threat level at headquarters to Code Red immediately. Specifically, we’re to pay particular attention to our communications infrastructure.”
Jack and Morris exchanged glances.
“Anything else?” Jack asked.
“Well, I put in a back-channel call to Jamey Farrell in L.A. She told me there’ve been three attacks on CTU satellite facilities — in Boston, New Haven, and Pittsburgh These attacks were successful. The comm systems ar down at all three units—”
Morris cursed.
“That’s not all,” Tony continued. “I just checked the City of New York’s emergency response system and found out that the Fire Department was summoned to FBI Headquarters fifteen minutes ago. Apparently there’s been a
‘fire’ on their roof.”
Morris met Jack’s gaze. “What do you want to bet someone took out the Agency’s satellite capabilities?”
A sharp knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” Jack called.
Layla Abernathy entered. “You were right, Special Agent Bauer. I spoke with Mr. McConnell personally and he blew me off.”
“What did he say,
She glanced at her notepad. “I’ll quote him: ‘The Federal Bureau of Investigation cannot comment on an ongoing investigation.’ End quote. Then Director McConnell added a personal aside.”
“Go on.”
“The Director said that Frank Hensley was a personal friend of his, and that he would rather burn in hell before he shared information with Special Agent Jack Bauer of CTU.” Layla Abernathy raised an eyebrow.
“So much for cooperation among the agencies,” Morris muttered.
Jack frowned and glanced away from Agent Abernathy’s curious gaze.
Layla nodded.
“Was that before or after you used my name?” Jack asked.
Layla frowned. “After, sir.”
“He’s lying,” Jack declared. “The FBI’s investigation is as dead as CTU’s. McConnell is just trying to throw us off by feeding us misinformation — or he already suspects some of his agents are involved with Brice Holman’s rogue operation and he wants to cover their asses.”
Morris shook his head. “With the satellite system down on the East Coast and the FBI keeping us at arm’s length, we’re effectively on our own.”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “What else is new?”
The intercom buzzed again. Jack answered, putting it on speaker.
“Special Agent Bauer? This is Rachel Delgado, Security. I wanted to let you know that I’ve located Deputy Director Judith Foy. She’s been injured in the line of duty. A traffic accident, according to the police. Right now, she’s a patient in Newark General Hospital.”
Jack watched Layla. She remained composed, but her expression had fallen. She was obviously upset.
“Thank you Ms. Delgado,” said Jack, disconnecting. He met Layla’s gaze. “I’m dispatching Special Agent Almeida to Newark,” he told her. “I want Tony to interrogate Deputy Director Foy as soon as possible.”
Layla nodded. “I want to go with him.”
“No,” said Jack. Then he softened his voice. “I’m sorry, Agent Abernathy. I need you here. But I’d like you to send another agent. Someone you trust. Someone who knows New Jersey.”
“Congresswoman Williams? Are you ready for your eleven forty-five?”
“Yes, Melinda,” Hailey Williams replied over the intercom. “Send him in.”
The slender, African-American Congresswoman adjusted the gray blazer of her tailored, pinstriped suit. As her office door swung wide, she rose from behind her desk to greet the man striding into the room.
Hailey frowned, expecting a black man named Montel Tanner. Montel was the usual liaison between herself and Ali Rahman al Sallifi. In fact, it had been Montel who’d called her the day before, promising another lucrative donation to her upcoming campaign in exchange for a small favor.
Hailey had been only too happy to agree to the meeting.
Her campaign coffers were alarmingly low these days, her expenses increasingly high, and she knew al Sallifi was a man who could be counted on for financial support.
Hailey had helped al Sallifi in the past, and she was more than willing to do so again. Yes, one reason was the money. Hailey was no stranger to hardball politics — and she was certainly no saint when it came to running her campaigns. But she did honestly believe in al Sallifi’s work with prisoners.
Sure, Hailey appeared to be living a charmed life now: married to a prominent public defender, a graduate of Howard University, two graduate degrees from Princeton.
But she was far from a child of privilege.
Hailey was the third daughter to a single mother, whose father had died at the hands of guards in a state penitentiary, and three of her cousins had done time in prisons.
To Hailey, prisoners were lost souls in need of guidance, and she firmly believed that once someone had served his or her time, that person deserved an unprejudiced chance to begin again.
