something was up — that he had all of the passwords already.”
Henderson offered the man a thin smile. “So what made you suspicious of him in the first place?”
“Everyone resisted us when we first got here, Agent Abernathy included. They dodged Jack Bauer’s direct questions and all but refused to cooperate. Peter Randall was the exception. He was there from the start, ready to step in and do anything we asked of him.”
Morris paused. “I figured the little bugger had to have something up his sleeve. No one is
19. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 1:00 A.M. AND 2:00 A.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
Jack Bauer was the last participant to appear on the vid-eoconferencing screen. He sat in a Danish modern living room. Behind him, a sliding glass door framed the night sky above Central Park’s treetops. A few feet away, on a chair of cream-colored leather, a pale form sat limply, bound by electrical cords. Blood pooled on the polished hardwood floor at the corpse’s feet.
Jack peered into the computer camera, then his hand disappeared from view while he adjusted the volume. “Can you hear me?” he asked.
“We hear you, Jack.” Henderson tossed his pen onto the tabletop. “We can see you, too. And I know you can’t see us from your location, so I’ll make the introductions.
Richard Walsh is on the line from Los Angeles. Hershel Berkovic, Director of CTU’s Economic Warfare Division, is conferencing in from Langley, and Dr. Guilling from the Satellite Surveillance Division is here with me in New York.”
“What’s the current status on the trucks from Kurmastan?” Jack asked.
Sitting across the table from Henderson, the portly man with the brown comb-over and horn-rimmed glasses said,
“Ted Guilling here. The trucks in Carlisle and Atlantic City were intercepted and neutralized. Another truck detonated its explosives at the General Aviation plant in Rutland, with many casualties.”
Wheezing, Guilling paused to suck on an asthma atomizer. “But there’s good news, too. Fifteen minutes ago, U.S. Navy military police intercepted two trucks outside the Bethesda Naval Station. Our forces suffered some casualties, but the terrorists were stopped and their bombs failed to detonate—”
“What about the trucks heading for Boston?” Jack interrupted.
“We think that intelligence
“What do you mean
Guilling took another hit on his asthma atomizer, then earnestly explained, “We’ve combed all the routes from New Jersey to Boston with satellites, surveillance cameras, state and local police, and we haven’t located a single truck, let alone two.”
Jack didn’t blink. “Maybe they stopped somewhere.”
He leaned closer to the camera. “Maybe the trucks are
Guilling’s head bobbed. “It’s possible.”
“Walsh here, Jack.”
Henderson rubbed his bloodshot eyes, relieved to hear Walsh speak up. The big man with the walrus mustache was CTU’s Administrative Director, and the most senior person on this call. Henderson also knew that Jack Bauer respected few men in the CIA’s bureaucracy more than Richard Walsh.
“I think we’re all in agreement that we need to keep our eyes open,” Walsh continued. “We should keep sweeping the Boston routes, but not at the exclusion of other possibilities if additional leads come in. Now… as I understand the situation, Jack, counting the truck you personally stopped outside the Lincoln Tunnel, half of the twelve trucks have been located and neutralized, one way or another. Which means, according to Brice Holman’s intelligence, there are still six more trucks to find.”
“Right,” Jack said. “And what about the leaks at CTU
New York? Christopher? Have they been plugged?”
Henderson tensed. He hadn’t expected to discuss that particular matter on this call, and he didn’t appreciate Bauer’s bluntness. But he was careful to answer with smoothness and control.
“We think so, Jack. Rachel Delgado, New York’s deputy head of Security, has been cross-identified as a former member of Newark’s Thirteen Gang. I haven’t interrogated Peter Randall yet, but—”
“Randall?” Jack frowned. “I thought Layla Abernathy—”
“She’s been cleared,” Henderson broke in. “Randall set her up, even planted incriminating information in Agent Abernathy’s personal computer, knowing we’d find it.
Thanks to O’Brian, we know the truth now. Agent Abernathy is innocent. She’s recovering in the infirmary —”
“Release her,” Jack demanded. “I need her in the field—”
“Listen, Jack…” Henderson paused. “She’s had a rough time. A very rough time—”
“This isn’t a request, Christopher. I need Agent Abernathy to successfully complete this mission.”
Henderson fell silent. He didn’t like the idea of putting the woman back on line, but he could hear the steel in Jack’s voice, and bickering with Bauer in front of the other men would sound childish at best.
“All right,” he finally relented. “She’ll be ready for action by the time you get back.”
“Listen,” Jack continued, “I’ve been looking over the contents of Erno Tobias’s computer. The Albino has been tracking currency futures. Foreign banks, financial institutions in Europe, the Middle East, Asia — they’re all lining up to dump U.S. currency. Billions of dollars.”
“Agent Bauer is correct,” said Hershel Berkovic. Close to sixty and bald, with close-set eyes and a slight facial twitch, the man spoke on the screen out of CIA’s headquarters in Langley, Virginia. “The EWD has analyzed the data coming in, including the contents of Mr. Tobias’s computer, and the threat you described is very real — and very dangerous—”
“Excuse me?” Jack interrupted. “Would the man speaking please identify himself.”
“This is Hershel Berkovic, Agent Bauer. I’m the director of CTU’s Economic Warfare Division, and there is no reason for these monetary speculators to dump the dollar.
Inflation is low, productivity high. Our American economy is sound, the stock market stable—”
“What about the terror attacks?” Richard Walsh interrupted from Los Angeles. “Don’t you think they’ll put a dent in our stock market come morning?”
“Yes, you are correct, Director Walsh,” Berkovic replied,
“except for one thing. Only the attack in Atlantic City has been reported as a terrorist incident, and the press and public believe it was an isolated event. Thanks to damage control from several government agencies, the Carlisle attack, the wreck outside the Lincoln Tunnel, even the blast in Rutland are perceived to be tragic
Henderson grabbed up his pen, impatiently tapped the table. “Your point?”
“The people poised to sell dollars must have inside information,” said Berkovic. “They know about the terrorist threat to our country and are set to trade accordingly.”
“There’s another possibility,” said Jack. “An endgame.”
At CTU New York, Henderson and Guilling glanced at each other across the table. In Los Angles, Walsh
