The din faded, and for a long moment all was silent.
Then the cargo doors opened with a loud bang. Red tracer fire cut through the night. Men rolled out of the truck, into a fusillade of fire and a rain of concussion grenades.
Howling, the terrorists fell, one by one, until there was no one left alive.
In the darkness around the ribbon of road, voices cried out. “Clear!”
“Clear here.”
“All clear!”
“Anybody hurt?” Joe Smith called. A chorus of negatives greeted him. Only then did he realize the ambush was over — and he hadn’t fired a shot.
Martin Eden rose from his hiding place and ran toward the wreck, Ryan Chappelle on his heels. Other men emerged from hiding and swarmed over the smashed truck, checking the bodies, then the contents of the cargo bay.
“I got nine unfriendlies down, no survivors,” Moe Howard declared. “There are some maps and stuff in the cab. Might be intel. Might be crap.”
“I don’t know about intel, but there are enough guns and ammo here to start a war,” Larry Fine said, shaking his head.
“There must be a ton of C–4, too, manufactured with easy-set timers and ready to go,” Smith observed, his facade of calm suddenly cracking.
As they fumbled through the wreckage, reality began to dawn on all of them as the magnitude of the threat was slowly revealed.
Finally, Martin Eden faced Ryan Chappelle. “Jack Bauer says there are eleven more trucks on the prowl just like this one, right?'”
“That’s right.”
Eden frowned. “Then God help us.”
15. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 9:00 P.M. AND 10:00 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
Jack Bauer leaned through the door of the CTU helicopter, wind tearing at his hair. His right hand gripped the exit bar. His left clutched a thick rope attached to a winch on the side of the fuselage.
A six-lane highway rolled under the belly of the racing Sikorsky, a long ribbon of glowing headlights against a crowded urban landscape. In the distance, Bauer could see the Manhattan skyline glittering against the violet sky.
“You’re telling me one of the trucks is down there?”
Jack yelled into his headset. His heart was racing and he was ignoring a cold sweat.
“Yes,” said Morris.
“I need confirmation!”
“Right,” said Morris. “I’ll forward the satellite feed to the navigational computer inside your chopper. Give me a moment…”
“I’ve got the target on-screen now, Agent Bauer,” Captain Fogarty informed him seconds later.
Jack strained to hear the voices over the throb of the pounding rotors. He released the rope, increased the volume on his headset, and twisted the earphone tighter.
“This truck was holed up in the parking lot of Giants Stadium since early afternoon,” Morris explained. “About an hour ago, Meadowlands security finally got suspicious and dispatched officers to check out the vehicle. Two guards were killed; a third is in critical condition and not expected to live. And the truck, as you can obviously see from my tracking, got away from them.”
“And you’re positive you’ve locked on the right vehicle?” Jack pressed.
“The survivor managed to get the license number,” said Morris. “The truck’s from Kurmastan.”
The increasingly bizarre pattern of attack puzzled Jack.
A highway rest stop. A gas farm. Then a failed assault on a military training school.
“Why did they stop at the stadium?” Jack asked Morris.
“Did they plant explosives there before they left?”
“Unlikely. The New Jersey State Police and the bomb-sniffing dogs have been going over every inch of the Meadowlands Sports Center. They’re still looking,” Morris answered. “But so far they’ve found nothing.”
“Why would the terrorists hole up in a parking lot?”
Jack wondered aloud. “Could they be on some kind of schedule?”
“I’ve no idea,” Morris replied. “But we’ve got this vehicle locked. I’m watching a live satellite feed of the truck right now. You’re practically on top of it, Jack-o.”
Jack gazed at the river of headlights below. “Can you guess where they’re going?”
“Into the Lincoln Tunnel,” said Morris.
Jack instantly pictured thousands of commuters, driving under the Hudson, rolling into the heart of Manhattan.
He flashed on midtown, Broadway, Times Square, theaters, restaurants, all jammed with tourists, office workers, families — innocent targets.
Jack’s jaw clenched. “I need to stop that truck before it gets to the tunnel.”
“
“No. The men in that truck know they’re hunted. They’ll react like trapped animals at any sign of the authorities.
And there’s a risk of collateral damage if the police respond recklessly.”
“Jack, let the authorities handle it.”
“What if that vehicle is a truck bomb they plan to detonate inside the tunnel? It will be Oklahoma City times ten.”
Captain Fogarty called to Jack from the cockpit. “What do you want to do, Bauer?”
“Where’s the truck now?” Jack asked.
“It’s two hundred feet under us. I’m watching it with our belly camera right now,” the pilot replied.
“Good. I can make a fast-rope descent. If I can get on the back of the trailer, I can—”
“Fast-rope out of a moving chopper?” Fogarty cut in.
“You’re nuts, Bauer—”
“I’ve done it before,” Jack insisted. “Get me down to an altitude of fifty feet. All I need is a wide open space, a short stretch of highway without high tension wires or an overpass.”
Fogarty shook his head. “I don’t like it, but if you’re serious, I can put you over the ramp.”
“What ramp?”
“The Jersey interstate ends in a long, curved downhill ramp that leads to the tollbooths. There are no overpasses, no electric lines or telephone cables, either. Traffic may even slow a little as it backs up at the toll plaza. Even then, we won’t be hovering. We’ll be moving at forty or fifty miles per hour.”
Jack had learned helicopter assault tactics in the Army, and he’d used those skills on many Delta Force missions.
Swinging on a fast-rope wasn’t a problem for him, though he knew it would be a lot tougher from a moving aircraft.
“Listen, Fogarty, I can do this.” Jack’s tone was sure.
“Your job is to get me over that truck.”
“Weehawken is two minutes ahead. After that it’s the ramp and the tunnel,” Fogarty’s copilot warned.
Fogarty grunted. “Okay, Bauer, you win. Get ready to move when I give the signal. We’ll reach the ramp in
