Director of Field Operations. The fact that Henderson currently held that post created a rivalry between them, though Mason would never admit it. While the command structure at CTU was always clear, promotions and assignments were sometimes fluid as cases sometimes took personnel out of the office for extended periods. And there had been rumors, none stated publicly, having to do with Henderson and the transfer of funds.
“Comatose,” Henderson replied. “I haven’t heard more.”
Peter Jiminez shifted impatiently. “I’m sorry to speak up, but if Jack went to the trouble of escaping, he had a good reason.”
“Yeah,” someone smirked, “he didn’t want to go to prison for the rest of his life.”
“Or he’s trying to prove his innocence,” Jiminez replied.
“Hell of a way to do it.” Henderson, standing, frowned down at Jiminez. “We need to put aside the hero worship for a minute. This could cost Jack, and cost us, and cost CTU a lot if we don’t help solve this thing. I want to put our resources into helping to find him. Some of us know Jack pretty well.”
“I’ll say,” Nina agreed.
“I want each of you to put together any notes on any cases you’ve done with Bauer. Contacts he has, informants he’s used, safe houses. Everything. Give it all to Peter.”
“I’ll take it,” Nina offered.
Henderson overruled her statement. “I want Peter. I want someone who hasn’t worked with Jack as long to go over the list. Fresh eyes.”
“Give it to me, Chris,” Mason offered. “I know Jack —”
“It’s Jiminez,” Henderson said in an I’m-the-director tone of voice. “Start putting your lists together now.”
Jack and Ramirez were in the back room of a thrift shop. Jack had kicked in its back door, and by some miracle, as he pointed out to Ramirez, the alarm hadn’t gone off. Jack had dumped their orange jumpsuits and found pants, shirt, and shoes that fit well enough.
Sirens went by, but didn’t slow down. They seemed to have lost the police, who were more occupied with containing the several hundred inmates still trying to get out of the jail.
While Ramirez continued to look for clothes, Jack crept up to the phone at the front of the store and dialed.
The telephone in the middle of the conference table rang. Henderson leaned in and slapped the call button irritably. “No calls, I said.”
“I’m sorry,” said one of the receptionists who fielded general calls. “But it’s — sir, it’s Jack Bauer.”
The entire CTU team looked at one another. Only Nina Myers, who knew Jack well, seemed unsurprised.
Henderson blanched. “Okay.”
The line clicked in. “Uh, Jack?”
“Chris.” Jack’s voice came on the line “I need to speak with Chappelle.”
“He’s not available,” Henderson said. “And you need to turn yourself in.”
“Chappelle first. How is he?”
“Not well. Jack, it’s George,” Mason called out to the speaker. “Where are y—?”
Jack interrupted. “Listen, everyone. I need Chappelle. This whole thing’s been a setup and—”
The line went dead.
Jack hung up the phone quickly as Ramirez approached him dressed in baggy jeans and a Kobe Bryant basketball jersey. “Best I could do. Who was that?”
“I tried to call some contacts I have, but I couldn’t get through,” Jack lied. “I didn’t want to hang on too long in case it was traced.” He had not wanted Ramirez overhearing what he was saying to CTU. He needed Ramirez’s cooperation, now more than ever, and the last thing he wanted was for the other man to get nervous about who was on the other end of the line.
“So this job you did before you went in,” Ramirez
asked. “You worked for the government?”
“Yes. I was an investigator. I shot someone.”
“Did he deserve it?”
Jack shrugged. “Most people do, for something or other.”
They sat together in silence, each of them taking a moment to release the stress of the last hour. Silence was not uncomfortable for either of them. They had shared a cell for the past three weeks, and in such close quarters silence and privacy were precious.
Jack considered his next move. He could go to CTU, but the chances of anyone there helping him were slim. In their eyes he was guilty, and anyone who assisted him would be aiding and abetting a suspected felon.
Ramirez broke the silence. “Why’d you decide to break out? Your case that bad?”
“It wasn’t good,” Jack admitted. “I had nothing to lose anyway. No way was I getting my job back after the accusations anyway, so there was no reason to ride it out. And not with those gang-bangers after me.”
“You still haven’t said what that’s about.”
“I still don’t know. I’ve got one more call to make.”
Teri answered on the third ring.
“It’s me,” he said quickly. He would have liked more privacy, but to send Ramirez away would have aroused his suspicion. “Have you checked the news?”
“Ja— the news? No.”
“You’re going to hear a few things,” he warned her. “Just bear with it. I’m okay, and everything’s going to be okay. I need you to do something for me.”
Her concern was palpable over the phone line. “Tell me.”
“The bicycles hanging from the racks in the garage. On mine there’s a small bag, it looks like a saddlebag. I need you to get that and drop it somewhere for me. You remember that place we went to, where we had the big argument?”
She laughed, but he could hear tears in her laughter. “You have to be more specific.”
“The one where I tried to make the big exit and smashed into the waiter with the water glasses.”
More tearful laughter. “Yes.”
“Drop the bag off there, anywhere hidden. I’ll find it. Just have it there by two A.M.” He hung up without saying goodbye.
“Here’s the story,” Jack said to Ramirez. “I have contacts all over this city, but all of them are burned. Anywhere I go, my people will be looking. So we need to go to your people.”
Ramirez balked. “I don’t have anyone we can go to.”
“Everyone’s got people. Someone. You had business associates you worked with. The deal you were involved in, the embezzlement thing. Who was on the other side of that?”
Ramirez tugged at his new Lakers jersey. “There was. I mean I killed the guy.”
Jack shook his head. “On the other side.”
Ramirez wriggled now like an insect stuck on the end of a pin. “We couldn’t do that. I couldn’t do that with you.”
Jack shrugged. “Think about it, because right now I’m all you’ve got. Without me you’ll be picked up in ten minutes and put right back in there.” He softened his tone. “In the meantime, I’m going to lay low for a while and let the search pass us by. Then I’m going to hot-wire a car and go pick up something useful. You’re welcome to come.”
Dan Pascal ambled up to the gates of the Federal Holding Facility, his six-foot, four-inch frame just big enough to hold his girth, even if his belt wasn’t. Pascal was a U.S. Marshal, and with his size and his square, flat- faced head, he was born to it. The courtyard beyond the fence was quieter now, but by all accounts there’d been all hell of trouble here not long ago.
Pascal turned to Lafayette, the senior officer on duty during the breakout. “Only the two got out?”
Lafayette gave two, slow, deliberate nods. “Bauer and Ramirez. Had a hell of a time keeping the others in
