The Chinese could always come get him out of interrogation if he was that important. She was just about to tell Richard Hong that when Marcus Lee’s doorbell rang. Lee stood and moved past Nina, opening his hand to the door and asking permission with his eyes. Nina nodded and followed him.
“Thank you for your advice, Mr. Hong, but I think it’s important that we have a discussion with Mr. Lee. I — stand by.” She stopped as Marcus Lee opened his door. Three men in dark suits and sunglasses walked in as soon as the door was open, as though they knew they’d been expected. In fact, it was Nina’s presence that seemed to alert them most.
“Mr. Lee,” said one of the suits. He took off his sunglasses and held out a badge, but his eyes were already on Nina. “Clay Lonis, Treasury Department. Who’s this?”
Marcus Lee sidestepped and opened his arms as though trying to join Nina and the newcomer. “Mr. Lonis, this is Agent Myers.”
Nina’s jaw dropped. Treasury Department. Why was the Secret Service visiting Marcus Lee?
Jack heard — and felt — another loud thump against the outside of the police wagon. This time the vehicle rocked back and forth, as though giant hands had grabbed it and shaken it back and forth. There were more cries from outside, but these were not cries of alarm. A rhythmic chanting had begun, and the wagon was rocking in sync with it.
Nina held out her own identification, and Clay Lonis frowned as he slipped his sunglasses back on. “A word?” he said, motioning to the door.
Nina nodded and followed him outside, first making sure that the other two Secret Service agents were staying with Lee. Nina stepped outside onto the shaded porch, stopping near the railing that overlooked Lee’s circular driveway. The property was beautiful and neatly landscaped, but the tension in the air told Nina that it had just become a very complicated maze.
Clay Lonis had been cut right out of the Secret Service training manual: a little over six feet, sandy brown hair trimmed short, mandatory cleft in his chin. He kept his sunglasses on, which Nina found annoying.
“Agent Myers, may I ask your business here?”
“What does the Secret Service want?”
“You first,” Lonis said with a thin smile.
Nina frowned. She wasn’t sure there was any interdepartmental rivalry here. She just didn’t like other people prying into her business. “I’m doing my job. Is Tuman considered some sort of security risk?”
Despite the sunglasses, Nina saw a reaction from the Secret Service agent. “You mean Lee.”
Nina shrugged. “That’s one name for him.” She thought out loud. “But it doesn’t make sense for him to be a security risk. If he really were, you guys would have rounded him up already. What’s going on?”
Lonis considered her from behind his shades. “Nothing too dramatic. But it’s on a need-to-know basis.”
“Well, I need to know.”
“Maybe you could at least tell me the broad strokes about your investigation. You guys are counterterrorist. That makes me nervous, considering my job.”
Nina decided she had to give a little to get a little. “We have questions about an alias of his, and about transfer of money from Lee to a terrorist organization.”
Now Lonis frowned. “That’s disturbing. But it doesn’t sound right. We’ve already done extensive background on Mr. Lee with the Chinese government. He’s not considered a security risk, that much I can tell you.”
Something was askew here. Nina wasn’t convinced, but one thing was clear: there was no way she could drag Marcus Lee into an interrogation room with the Chinese government and the U.S. Secret Service both screaming at her. She dropped immediately to her bottom line. “Are you guys going to be here for a while? I’m not looking for intel!” she added when Lonis started to object. “I just want to know that Lee isn’t going anywhere. I have some people I need to talk to.”
The Secret Service agent nodded. “Lee’s not going anywhere. That I promise.”
The CTU agent slid away from him and put her phone back to her ear. Richard Hong had already severed the connection, of course, so she called CTU again and had them patch her through. “I’m coming to meet you,” she said tersely. “I am going to need some explanations.”
“Always happy to assist,” Richard Hong said politely. The line went dead again.
The police wagon rocked so hard, the prisoners were thrown from one side of the wagon to the other. Jack Bauer braced his feet against the far side of the hold. The vehicle tipped again, so much that Jack was nearly standing upright. Then it lurched back the other direction until Jack was almost up on his shoulders.
“What are they doing to us?” the blond kid shrieked.
“Breaking us out,” Jack replied. The van had been rocking sporadically for several minutes, the brief interruptions accompanied by screams and cries of alarm. Jack assumed that the police were trying to retake control of the area, but there were too many rioters covering too much territory. Either the same group of rioters retreated and returned, or new groups of rioters flooded in as soon as the last group had been driven off. Once Jack heard someone enter the cab and try to start up the vehicle, but the engine wouldn’t turn over.
The rocking had been going on without interruption now for several minutes, and Jack guessed that the police had given up. Perhaps they didn’t know there were detainees in the wagon; perhaps they didn’t care. Either way, they’d ceded the ground to the rioters.
The wagon went up on its side again, axles groaning, and this time it hung there for a moment as if it had all the time in the world to decide. Outside, the mob hooted and cheered, but their cheers turned to disappointment when the wagon fell back to all four tires. The chanting and the rocking started again.
“They’re going to kill us!” the blond kid whined.
“Brace yourself,” Jack instructed. “If it goes over upside down for you, keep your chin tucked.”
The chanting started again, and the van rocked and groaned. Jack planted his feet firmly on the far wall. “Get ready.”
Up went the van again, the frame trembling as it teetered on the very edge of the driver side tires. Jack was ready, hoping it would tip this way and put him on his feet. But the van fell back. Immediately it tilted to the passenger side. Jack felt his world turn upside down. He was on his shoulders with his neck pressed against the metal side wall. The wagon paused, then fell flat on its side. Jack felt the impact travel through his neck like an electric shock. Outside, the crowd cheered.
9. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 3 P.M. AND 4 P.M. PACIFIC STANDARD TIME
Kim Bauer had been sitting on a cot in the basement of the building for almost two hours. She was in some sort of minihospital, with several cots set up to treat sick people, those poles on wheels with the hooks at the top for IV bags, and other machines.
They had kept the metal door to the hospital room closed, but now and then someone would come inside, sometimes to check on her, sometimes to get supplies from a cabinet. Every time she asked if she could leave, the man or woman would give her a quick “No” and rush out.
As time passed Kim’s demands had become more urgent, but the replies were even more insistent. During the short intervals when the door had been opened, she saw Federal employees, some in police uniforms and some in suits, hurrying back and forth.
But at that moment, two uniformed security guards carried in a third officer whose head was heavily bandaged. Blood still trickled out from under the bandage and onto his forehead and cheek. The other two laid him down on one of the empty cots. A doctor — the same woman who had taken Kim’s blood — followed close behind to treat him.
“Excuse me, I have to go!” Kim said to one of the security officers. He looked at her, his beefy face sweaty under his round cap.
