bodyguards through the darkened nightclub. Unfortunately, the table Farrah had chosen left half the club behind Jack, and turning his back on the girl would have been way too obvious. The girl lowered her head and brushed her thick black hair between his legs, then lifted her chin up to look at him and smiled as she pressed her body against him. “You’re awfully good-looking to be one of his friends,” she said with a well-practiced squeak.
“And you’re way too good to be working the dead times,” he said. “You new?”
She shook her head. “Part of the deal. Every girl’s gotta work one afternoon a month. Otherwise, no one would do it.” She jumped to her feet and turned around, arching her back and shifting her hips in a way that reached past all of Jack’s training and grabbed him in that deep place where all his primal urges lay.
A fast movement to his right caught Jack’s eye. A man ran by, followed by a big shadow. The smaller figure headed for the front exit and looked like he’d get there, but a second shadow detached itself from the wall and swallowed the little man. Jack heard a squeal. Then he heard Farrah’s voice say, “Come on, Farid, okay, okay. Come outside and talk with us. That’s all.”
The two giants turned around and started toward the back. In a flash of light from the dance floor, Jack saw a smaller man, looking like he’d just been sentenced to death, walk between them. He looked Middle Eastern.
“What’s all that?” he asked.
Tina looked over her shoulder seductively and shrugged. “Shit goes on here sometimes” was all she said.
“You know that guy with them?”
She looked, as though paying attention for the first time. “The little one. No. I mean, he’s come in once or twice but he doesn’t go for me. He’s an Arab, and they all go for the blonds.”
“An Arab,” Jack wondered, taking a long shot. “First time you saw him was maybe a few months ago? With Farrah?”
The girl shrugged. “I guess, maybe.”
“Excuse me,” he said, standing up. If Farrah’s actions in the loft were any indication, they were going to kill this man, and it occurred to Jack that this victim might be one that he needed alive.
14. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 4 P.M. AND 5 P.M. PACIFIC STANDARD TIME
Jack walked across the dark club, leaving the hot-bodied girl in the schoolgirl outfit behind and chasing after the Armenian thugs and their prisoner, thinking, not for the last time, that the twists and turns of his job were sometimes ridiculous.
He reached the back door as it swung closed, and caught the handle with a sliver of light still visible. Farrah was close enough to the door that he could hear the man talking. Not wanting to reveal himself, Jack kept the door ajar and listened.
“Farrah, please, please,” the other man was pleading. “I didn’t know Rasheed would steal from you. He never stole from me.”
“Okay, okay,” Farrah said angrily. “I believe that. I believe he was stealing with you, how’s that!”
“No, please—”
“No, please,” Farrah mocked. “What I know is that you recommended that cocksucker and he stole from me. That makes me think he stole from me and maybe moved some of the merchandise through you, eh?”
“No, I swear!” the other man, Farid, pleaded.
Farrah laughed. “And do you know what else he did? What you did? You used my place as a dropoff. My place. I’m not the bus station, Farid, okay? You drop off people like that, it brings attention that I don’t want, okay?”
“Don’t kill me!”
“Why not? I thought your type was always ready to die for your cause. Isn’t that what you do, give your lives to Allah?”
“I’m not one of those!” the other man said.
“No? Your friends were, weren’t they? The ones you and Rasheed brought in. They were supposed to work for me, weren’t they, but they went off with my guns and some of my money and now where are they? Where is my money?”
“I–I don’t know. I swear I don’t know!” Just as he had with Ramin, Jack could tell that this Farid was telling the truth. He could also tell that Farrah didn’t particularly care and planned to kill him anyway. He couldn’t let that happen.
Jack pulled the door wide open and sauntered out into the bright sunlight. He blinked a little till his eyes adjusted, making all his movements big and careless.
“What the fuck—” he said casually, seeing the two big Armenians and Farrah looming over Farid, who was on his knees. Farrah, with his back to Jack, held a gun, his hand hanging low along his side.
“Just a little more business,” Farrah said.
Jack walked up to them, eyeing Farid. He was Persian, not Arab, which fit the profile Jack was looking for. He was also clearly terrified.
“Like I said, I’m looking for business,” Jack said. “You want to pay me a little something, I’ll kill him for you.”
Farrah laughed. “What, you think I catch the fish and then I need someone to carry him for me?”
“Suit yourself,” Jack said. He stepped back.
Farrah raised his gun. When he did, Jack lunged forward, covering the distance between them in a single burst, his arms extending as far as possible. One hand caught the gun and the other hand clutched Farrah’s wrist. Jack twisted his body and snapped the gun from Farrah’s hand. In nearly the same motion he smashed the muzzle into Farrah’s face and shoved him backward. He jumped away from the clutches of the two startled giants and turned the weapon on them.
Farrah spat blood out of his chubby mouth. “Okay, okay, I got to kill some people for this.”
“I’ve had one of those days, too,” Jack said. “You, Farid, I need you to stand up and come over here. You two, Dumb and Dumber, you stay where you are.”
The Peppermint’s back door flew open and Tina walked out. “Hey, someone’s got to pay me!”
The sound of the door flying open seemed to break a spell that bound them all. The two giants lumbered into action. Farid bolted like a frightened rabbit. Farrah reached down to his ankle for what was undoubtedly a backup weapon.
Jack fired, but Farrah’s gun jammed. The first giant put a huge hand on him and Jack, still holding the weapon by its grip, punched the muzzle into his teeth. He snatched his own weapon from the Armenian’s belt and, at the same time, kicked the other one in the groin. Both giants sagged down to their knees. Jack took off after Farid, who had nearly reached the corner of the building.
Jessi Bandison buzzed Kelly Sharpton in his office.
“Kelly, we have results.”
“I’ll come down. Call Chappelle.”
Kelly descended the stairs and headed for the conference room. Chappelle was there before him, along with Nina Myers and half of CTU. Nina Myers said specifically to Kelly and Chappelle, “Let me introduce Amy Brant. She’s on loan to us from the NSA, because we didn’t have anyone who recognized the wiring we found. Ms. Brant.”
A heavyset woman with the face of a farmer’s daughter stood up. She held a tiny piece of blue rubber in her hand. When she pressed a button on the conference display, an image of the same piece of blue rubber appeared on the screen, greatly magnified.
“This is a sample of what your forensics team found in the condo,” Ms. Brant said in a Minnesota accent. “This, plus some interesting plastic connectors, like this.” She clicked a mouse, and a new image popped up. This piece looked like an orange plastic cap. “This is a connector, the kind you use when you have two wires you want to put together.”
