tight…
9. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 3:00 P.M. AND 4:00 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
In his right hand, Jack Bauer clutched the cell phone to his head. With his left, he covered his ear to shut out the high-pitched whine of the turboshaft engines.
He was standing on a concrete pier at the edge of the water. A Sikorsky S–76 “Spirit” helicopter idled behind him, its wide, composite blades cutting the humid air. A barge streamed up the Hudson, leaving a roiling wake as it passed.
“Any word from Tony?” Jack asked Morris back at CTU Headquarters.
“We’ve got a problem on that score,” Morris replied.
“Apparently a man fitting Agent Almeida’s description is wanted in connection with the murder of a security guard at Newark General Hospital.”
Jack cursed. “That has to be a mistake.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Except that the Newark Police received an
Jack’s mind raced.
“You’ve got to warn him,” he ordered Morris.
“I have, by voice mail,” Morris said. “We haven’t been able to reach Tony
“Almeida can take care of himself,” Jack said, dismissing that problem for now. “I want you to keep monitoring Brice Holman’s signal. I’ll keep this line open for any updates. I’ll need to know his exact location once I reach Milton.”
“Better move, Jack. Or Holman might not be there when you arrive.”
Jack glanced at the idling helicopter and cursed again.
“We’re leaving right now,” he told Morris. Then he ended the call.
He walked up to Layla Abernathy. She stood on the tarmac, blinking against the dust, her hair twisting in the wind. A heavy duffel bag was slung over her shoulder. As Jack approached, she lowered her own cell phone.
“I’m still trying to get clearance,” she explained. “I’m on hold with the Deputy Mayor’s office.”
Jack reached up, his hand covering her fingers. He closed the phone in her hand. “We’ve waited twenty minutes. That’s already too long—”
“I can’t convince the authorities, Agent Bauer!” Layla shouted to be heard over the noise. “If they thought it was a real emergency, we’d get immediate clearance. But—”
“We’re going,” Jack said. “Now.”
He took the bag from her shoulder, tossed it into the cabin. Then he guided Layla through the hatch. The interior of the S–76 Spirit was almost spacious — large enough to seat an assault team of eight, along with their special equipment.
Jack thrust Layla into a seat. “Strap in,” he commanded.
Then he moved to the cockpit.
The pilot and copilot wore dark blue CTU flight suits, and helmets with visors and interior headsets. The man in the pilot’s seat had a CTU Rapid-Strike Team patch on his chest, and a Glock on his belt. His name tag read
“Fogarty.”
“Take off,” Jack said.
“We can’t, sir,” Captain Fogarty replied. “We’ve been denied clearance—”
Bauer’s eyes flashed angrily. “Take off now. On my authority.”
“Sir, I can’t. I could lose my job—”
“Listen,” Jack rasped. “Director Holman is in danger.
There’s already been an attempt on Deputy Director Foy’s life. She’s in a hospital now and I don’t know her condition. Unless you want to be responsible for the death of your boss, I suggest you take off immediately.”
Fogarty frowned, then shifted his unhappy gaze to the copilot. “Prepare for takeoff,” he said.
The whine of the turboshaft increased in volume. With an abrupt lurch, the helicopter lifted off the pier and swooped over the river. The landing gear retracted before the aircraft banked and shifted direction, heading due west at a hundred and fifty miles per hour.
Two doctors, three nurses, and an orderly were laughing and talking and eating cake. Best of all, they were not paying attention to him.
Tony moved quickly down the hall, toward room 424.
Now that he was a hunted man, Tony knew he had to proceed with caution. When he didn’t see Rachel Delgado outside the room, he increased his pace.
Tony knew the enemy who had dispatched the Colombian might have sent another assassin to finish off Judith Foy. If Rachel got in the way, they’d kill her, too. Tony’s heart pounded.
He reached the room and quietly slipped through the door — then Tony heard a muffled cry. He turned and saw Judith Foy on the bed, legs kicking, hands clutching at the tubing embedded deep into the flesh of her throat. Rachel Delgado stood behind the woman, the plastic garrote wrapped around her hand.
She heard Tony’s surprised gasp and looked up, just as Tony lunged across the bed.
With no time to finish the woman off, Rachel slammed her elbow against Judith Foy’s temple, stunning her. Then she released the plastic strangling cord and deftly avoided Tony’s grip.
Stumbling backward, Rachel ripped the top of the IV
pole away from its base. Using the heavy stainless steel rod like a club, she swung at Tony’s unprotected head.
Tony ducked low, the pole slicing the air above his scalp.
Tony could easily shoot Rachel — but the sound of the shot would bring the whole floor running for this room.
Trying to explain his actions to the police would be a waste of time — and might prove fatal. There was obviously no one he could trust, not even the local authorities.
Tony knew it was possible he’d end up dead for “resisting arrest.”
He had only one recourse. He had to finish Rachel off quietly, then get Deputy Director Foy out of the hospital to a safe location.
Clutching the pole in her right hand, Rachel feinted a few times, then swung again. This time Tony was ready.
Dropping his left arm and holding it straight against his body, he stepped into the blow, leading with his left shoulder. Tony was suddenly so close to the woman that Rachel couldn’t strike him with the pole. Her forearm struck Tony’s shoulder instead.
Tony popped his right hand, slamming the woman under her chin.
As he struck, he lifted his left arm, curled it around Rachel’s right. He added some pressure and she released the club. The steel pole clanged to the floor. Tony squeezed harder, until he heard the snap of bone. Rachel gasped and her arm went limp.
