above.
It hadn’t taken long for Jack to drive from CTU to Century City. He arrived in time to see the last stragglers from the Shubert Theater easing their way up the parking ramps. He had driven down in the opposite direction. The parking attendants had tried to stop him until he flashed his badge. He had ridden his SUV along the first level, resisting the urge to duck as the low ceiling of the parking structure seemed to drop down to meet the high roof of his vehicle. When he’d reached the elevators he’d stopped, but they were shut down at this time of night. The escalators had stopped working, so he was forced to climb them like stairs until he reached the plaza level. He’d walked across the wide, flat steps to the North Tower and gone inside.
There was a late night security guard there, a young black man in a white uniform shirt, a security guard’s badge, and a name tag that said “Darryl.”
“Darryl, I’m Special Agent Jack Bauer,” Jack said, showing his credentials. “I need to get up to the 44th floor. I’m looking for the office of William Binns.”
Darryl looked unsure what to do. “Are you meeting him up there, sir?”
“I hope so.”
This told Darryl nothing, of course. “I mean, do you have an appointment? We’re not supposed to let anyone up there after hours without an escort.”
“Anybody been up to that office? Or that floor?”
Darryl shook his head.
“You can come with me if you want,” Jack offered.
Darryl didn’t seem to like this, either, but here he was talking to an actual Federal agent. He wasn’t about to say no. He came out from behind the handsome marble desk that was his home base, picked up a radio from the counter, and walked toward the elevators. He and Jack both entered.
“Have you ever met Mr. Binns?” Jack asked.
Darryl shook his head. He looked bright for a security guard. “I don’t really meet anyone, except some lawyers when they work late, and most of the accountants in March and April. How long have you been a. what kind of cop are you?” Darryl asked.
“I’m with the Federal government.”
“Like the FBI?” Darryl asked.
“Kind of like that.”
“I want to do that someday. I’m doing the police academy next year.”
Jack nodded absently. “That’s a good place to start.”
The elevator stopped and the doors opened to the twenty-third floor. Darryl led him down the hall, past several sets of double doors announcing law firms, to a small set of offices on the east side of the tower. Darryl used his master key to open them and Jack went into the office. He was in a small entryway with a receptionist desk and three chairs. Beyond were three offices, all with window views. Jack flipped the lights, which fluttered and then went on. The offices contained exactly what Jack expected them to contain: nothing. Frank Newhouse hadn’t rented these offices to use the space. He’d rented them to get access to the building.
The name on the door said “The Patrick Henry Company.” Jack clicked his tongue. “This guy’s got a thing for Patrick Henry.”
“What’s that?” Darryl asked.
Jack shrugged. “You want to be in law enforcement, you can start reading clues with me. This guy, uses the name William Binns. But he had another place under the name Patrick Henry, and this company he’s using here is called the Patrick Henry Company. I’m going to have to figure out what that means.”
Darryl said off-handedly, “He doesn’t like the government.”
Jack was surprised. “Yeah? Why do you say that?”
“You know the name, right? Patrick Henry. From American history.”
Jack nodded. “He was the ‘give me liberty or give me death’ guy.”
Darryl nodded. “That’s right. That’s what he was famous for. He was also one of the guys who didn’t want to ratify the Constitution.”
That stopped Jack in his tracks. “Really?” he asked, genuinely interested.
Darryl nodded even more. “Yeah. He thought the central government was too strong.”
“You’re a smart guy,” Jack said.
Darryl shrugged. “I read. Nights’re long, you know? You can only play so much Nintendo.”
But Jack wasn’t listening anymore.
“Jack, Kelly.”
“I was just calling you,” Jack said.
“Listen, I think I’ve got this figured. It’s been—”
“Brett Marks all along,” Jack ended.
Kelly paused. “Yeah. That’s pretty goddamned good. You didn’t even hear Farid or Julio talk.”
“No, but I’ve got Darryl.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Fill me in.”
Kelly spent a minute summarizing his conversations with Farid and Julio. With each word, Jack felt his anger and his embarrassment grow. He’d been played. He’d been one step behind on every play. Brett Marks had toyed with him.
“You’re got to admire it,” Jack said begrudgingly. “They set it up so that there are terrorists in the U.S.
They attack the President and the terrorists get blamed.”
“But you know what it means, right?” Kelly added. “It means Brett Marks wanted you to arrest him. He knew you were going to do it. It was the perfect cover for him. On the day the President gets attacked, he’s under arrest at CTU.”
“They slipped up twice,” Jack said. “Someone used Julio’s picture on an i.d. That led us to the coyotes earlier than expected. I bet that’s why they wanted Farid killed. And the other thing was the fingerprint. If we hadn’t found that fingerprint and gotten to Newhouse’s girlfriend, we wouldn’t know what the hell was going on tonight.”
“Jack, Air Force One flies over the city in a little more than an hour.”
Jack nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”
22. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 12 A.M. AND 1 A.M. PACIFIC STANDARD TIME
President Barnes was still wearing his tuxedo as he boarded Air Force One. These fund-raisers exhausted him, but the war chest could never be too full, especially with that Senator Palmer rising in the polls. He would have preferred to stay in his hotel room once the Secret Service had given the all clear for the party to continue, but even the President had to make a buck. He’d have to sleep on the plane. There were early morning meetings in San Diego.
Barnes tugged at his tie as he dropped into the wide, soft chair in his private study. He’d barely had time to slip off his shoes before there was a knock at the door. “Come,” he growled.
One of his aides poked her head in. “The Attorney General, if you have a minute, Mr. President.”
“Send him in.”
Quincy entered a moment later. “Mr. President. ”
“Who’s responsible for that disaster earlier, Jim?” Barnes asked. He was too tired to throw a full-fledged fit, but he was still angry. “I spent most of my time at that goddamned thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner explaining why my people shut down flights over Kansas for two hours. Shit, if I could have charged money for the excuses I came up with, we’d be flush for the next two elections.”
Quincy didn’t look embarrassed. In fact, he seemed energized. “Our guys followed the wrong lead, Mr.
