park?”
Layla blinked. “You’re kidding, right? Wait. I forgot you’re from Los Angeles.”
“Cut to the chase,” Tony growled.
“There
“That’s it, then!” Jack said. “Noor’s heading for Wall Street, and we’re going to be there to meet him.”
Ibrahim Noor steered the truck onto Broadway, joined the flow of traffic heading downtown. Though it was early, rush hour was already in full swing in the Financial District. The morning sun was bright, heralding a warm day.
In the passenger seat, Said Kabbibi twitched nervously.
He was about to speak when the traffic light turned red, forcing Noor to brake. Cross traffic from Cedar Street quickly crammed the intersection.
Kabbibi groaned, tugged on the collar of his utility worker’s uniform. “I fear we will not make it to the park in time. Unfortunately I cannot stop the timer now. The aerosol device will release the toxin at precisely seven- thirty.”
“Relax,” Noor said. “We’re only a few blocks away.”
“Good,” Kabbibi replied, moping his brow with a hand-kerchief. “I do not want to be anywhere near this place when the Zahhak is released.”
The light turned green, but so many cars blocked the intersection that they couldn’t make it through. Kabbibi became even more agitated.
“I told you to relax,” Noor rumbled. “By nine o’clock, we’ll be on a private jet to Geneva, and America will be on its knees.”
The roof of the mid-rise Bartleby Tower, right across the street from the Cunard Building, provided a perfect perch to observe traffic rolling down Broadway.
Jack Bauer was there, along with Tony Almeida, Layla Abernathy, and Director Christopher Henderson. Three telescopes had been set up, each focused on downtown traffic.
“I’m checking the truck that just turned onto Broadway from Exchange Street,” Jack said, peering through the lens. “The logo says Carvel Ice Cream.”
He zoomed in, spied a bored Asian man behind the steering wheel. “Looks like a negative,” Jack said.
His headset crackled. “This is Bio-Monitor One. That truck is clean.”
Jack exhaled.
“Are you sure the explosive charge is powerful enough?”
Bauer asked for the third time.
“The demolition boys know how to do their jobs, Jack,”
Henderson replied, his expression unreadable behind mirrored sunglasses.
Jack spoke into his headset. “Morris? How about the traffic lights? We need to isolate the vehicle as soon as it’s spotted.”
“I’m in control of the lights along Broadway, Jack,”
Morris said from Security Station One. “Give me the word and I’ll put in the fix. Frankly, I wish I had this kind of control in Los Angeles.”
Jack tensed. “Check the Consolidated Edison truck at the Pine Street intersection. Noor’s used that trick before.”
All three telescopes focused on the blue and white Con Edison van, and the two men inside the cab.
“That’s Noor, behind the wheel,” Jack hissed, clutching the telescope reflexively.
“And Kabbibi is beside him,” Layla cried.
“I see some kind of nozzle sticking out of the top of the truck,” Tony warned.
“This is Bio-Monitor One. Our meters are off the chart.
That truck is dirty.”
“I’ve got the vehicle on my monitor,” Morris declared.
“Facial recognition software has confirmed Noor’s and Kabbibi’s identities on this end.”
“Okay,” Jack declared. “This is it.”
On Broadway at Bowling Green Park, the uptown lights suddenly turned red. Cars braked abruptly. It was obvious to the drivers that something was wrong with the signals, but before anyone could jump the light, an FDNY ladder truck rolled into the middle of the intersection, blocking all traffic.
“Uptown traffic flow has been cut off,” Morris declared.
“Downtown traffic is next. I’ll have that vehicle isolated in less than a minute.”
Henderson touched the detonator in his hand. “This is your plan and your show, Bauer. Give the word and I’ll set off the fireworks.”
At the head of the pack, Ibrahim Noor was the first driver through the intersection when the light turned green. He was also the only vehicle to make the light, which immediately turned red again, stopping all traffic behind him.
With two blocks of Broadway wide open, Noor picked up speed. But halfway down the block he slowed again, glanced into his rearview mirror.
“A fire truck has blocked traffic behind us,” he announced.
“There’s one ahead of us, too,” Kabbibi cried, pointing to the red vehicle two blocks away.
“Something’s wrong,” whispered Noor.
The big man checked his right. The uptown lane was empty, too. Noor frowned when he realized the Con Edison truck was the only vehicle on the block. Bowling Green Park was directly ahead of them, and Kabbibi urged Noor to speed up.
Noor slowed the van instead, eyes scanning Broadway like a hunted animal.
“The truck’s slowing down,” Layla warned.
Jack Bauer stared through the telescope. “Don’t worry.
He’s almost reached the mark.”
Through the scope, Jack watched the vehicle approach a freshly painted yellow cross on the pavement, right in the middle of the downtown lane.
When the van reached the symbol. Jack faced Henderson.
“Now,” he rasped.
Henderson pressed the detonator…
Kabbibi cried out when a powerful jolt rocked the van.
Before either man could react, the pavement opened up under their wheels.
The Con Ed van plunged six feet, landing atop a massive steam pipe — part of the Financial District’s underground infrastructure.
Noor cursed.
“Let me out!” Kabbibi howled, fumbling with the handle.
“Too late,” Noor whispered.
At that moment, a second blast shattered the pipe beneath them.
