Tony and Nina arrived at their assignment. This club was on Melrose a mile east of Plush, designed into the shell of an old forties movie theater. The big bouncer at the door, standing six feet, five inches and built like a comic book superhero, tried to stop them, but Tony held up his badge. “Where do we find Goodnight?”
The bouncer waved them inside. “He’s spinning the records, man.”
Tony and Nina walked inside and were immediately assaulted by pulsing red and blue lights, strobe lights, and music with a bass line that throbbed in their chests and a melody, if that’s what it was, that was repetitive and hypnotic.
“I swear,” Tony said, “you could use this music to brainwash people.”
Nina looked at the crowd of twenty-somethings writhing to the music. “It’s working,” she said.
They pushed their way through the grinding crowd until they reached a dais at the far side. Their badges got them past that bouncer, too, and they climbed up to stand beside the sound equipment being run by a round- bodied, chubby-faced black man wearing small, squarish, black-framed glasses, who sweated profusely under his earphones.
“Hey!” Tony said, holding up his badge.
The DJ nodded at them, then did a double-take when he saw the badge. A look of disgust crossed his face, as he slid the headphones down around his neck.
“Man, what’d we do? I’ve got permits for everything.”
Tony shook his head. “Are you Goodnight?”
“That’s right.”
“We’re looking for Sarah Kalmijn.”
“What?”
Tony put his face close to Goodnight’s ear and said it again.
“She in trouble?” the DJ shouted back.
“Not with us. We want to protect her. She here?”
Goodnight shook his head. “Try the other club, she goes there, too. But if there’s really a problem, I don’t think she’s gonna be there.”
“Where’d she be?” Tony asked over the music.
“Her family’s got a boat down in Marina del Rey. That’s where she goes when things get bad.”
“You know the name of the boat?”
“No, man, I don’t remember. It’s Marina del Rey, though.”
Jack accomplished his mission quickly. The DJ at Plush didn’t know Sarah at all and told them to check the other club, where Goodnight was spinning that night. Frustrated, Jack turned to go, motioning for the others to follow. They pushed through the noise and the crowds toward the door.
Ted saw them first. He produced his pistol as if by magic, shouting something that Jack could not hear over the music. Ozersky shouted again and pointed. Now Jack saw the door. There were three of them, dark-haired men with guns firing at the bouncers, who fell to the ground. One of the men reached in and grabbed the doors to the warehouse and pulled them shut. Just before they closed, another man tossed something inside — a large can with a rag sticking out of it.
“Down!” Jack yelled. Ozersky grabbed the dancers nearest him and dragged them downward. Jack and Mercy dived for the floor. A moment later the can exploded, spraying flame and liquid everywhere. Burning liquid splashed on the ravers, setting their clothes on fire, and hit the walls, burning wood and posters. The alcohol-sprinkled floor caught fire. People screamed and rushed for the door. Jack barely had time to pull himself and Mercy up before the crowd surged forward.
Someone pulled at the doors, which opened inward. “It’s chained!” Jack heard. “It’s chained from the outside.”
The liquid fire was homemade napalm, which not only ignited combustible material but also burned into the skin. The fire was already spreading. Smoke began to blur Jack’s vision. He looked up and saw a window at second-story height to the left of the locked doors. “Help me!” he yelled. He shoved his way to the wall, Ted and Mercy following in his wake.
“Stand there,” he ordered Ted, and the other CTU agent braced himself against the wall. Jack planted a foot on his slightly bent leg and boosted himself up, his other foot reaching the height of Ozersky’s head, and soon he was standing on the other man’s shoulders. Jack reached up but the window was too high. Maybe if he jumped…
The room was in chaos. The fire spread with unbelievable quickness. It was almost impossible to think over the heat and the terrified screams.
“Pull me.” Mercy was below him, reaching up.
Jack reached his hand down to Mercy. Without hesitation, she climbed up Ozersky’s back, caught Jack’s hand, and mountain climbed up both CTU agents until she was on Jack’s back. She reached the window. Mercy drew her gun and used its muzzle to smash the glass, then knocked out the jagged teeth of shattered glass to avoid being cut.
Mercy stuck her head out the window to assess the far side. She didn’t hear the gunshot over the noise inside, but she felt it brush through her hair, nearly scalping her. She was so startled she nearly threw herself backward into the crowd.
“Gun!” she yelled, ducking her head down.
“Go!” Jack yelled. “Go!”
“Are you fucking crazy!” she yelled.
“Look!” he said. The fire raged. If Plush had a sprinkler system, it was malfunctioning. The walls were in flames. Panicked ravers pounded against the door as those behind pushed forward, crushing those in front.
It was the most lucid moment in Mercy Bennet’s life. She was aware of moving quickly, but she did not feel hurried. She experienced a groove, the steady calm of a snowboarder hurtling downhill, but completely under control. She acquired the first man and put one bullet into him, then swiveled to the next. Bullets ricocheted off the ground around her. She felt one pass through the cloth of her shirt between her arm and her ribs. She laid her muzzle over the chest of the second man and squeezed. She was about to shoot the third when Jack landed on him heavily. The man crumpled under Jack’s weight. Bauer smashed him in the face three times with the muzzle of his SigSauer. Jack turned toward the doors. A short, thick chain had been looped through the handles, locking the doors in place. Jack pointed his own gun at the lock and fired four times, shielding his eyes from the blast and hoping no ricochets killed him. When he was done, smoke rose up from his gun as the chain fell down.
“Help them!” Jack commanded. Mercy helped Ted shove the doors inward, against the pressing crowd.
Ozersky appeared in the crowd, yelling “Move, move, goddamn it!” The crowd inside managed to make enough space, and the next moment they were streaming out of the building.
Jack ignored it all. He knelt down beside the man he’d struck. Finally, he had one of them alive. “What’s al- Libbi’s plan?”
The man grinned at him with broken teeth. “Who’s al-Libbi?”
Jack lifted the man’s left hand, placed the muzzle of his gun against the palm, and fired. The man screamed.
“Jesus!” Mercy screamed at him. Jack ignored her.
“What’s his plan?” Jack said. He didn’t know if he’d gone mad or if he was thinking with perfect clarity. But he did know that time was running out, he was low on leads, and important people would die if he didn’t find a solution.
“I…I don’t know,” the man said, his voice suddenly pleading and desperate.
“Tell me something,” Jack threatened. “Tell me something worth knowing right now or I’ll get some of that napalm you made and pour it down your throat.”
The man started to speak. What he said brought Jack no closer to finding Sarah Kalmijn, but it was valuable nonetheless.
