Nina continued. “They don’t seem to pick small targets. They go after headlines. Embassies. The World Trade Center.”
Jack studied the list while she spoke. “Always the big-ticket items?”
Nina considered. “The Blind Sheik was implicated in the death of Meir Kahane, the ultra-rightist Israeli rabbi. But if it’s just an assassination, why use plastic explosives?”
Henderson added, “And if they want an explosion, they’ve already proven they can make homemade explosives.”
Jack knew what they were thinking, what they were trying to tell him through the facts. This wasn’t adding up. All of them were trained investigators, accustomed to uncovering facts that began to form a pattern. There didn’t seem to be a pattern here.
“Here’s what we know for certain,” he said, returning to the beginning. He picked up the laser pointer, but the monitor was as dead now as it had been before.
“Sorry,” Henderson apologized.
Jack snatched up a pen, flipped over one of the packets Jamey had provided, and started scribbling a flowchart. “One: Israeli agents contacted the CIA a while ago with intelligence that some known terrorists were planning an attack in the United States. After tracking down leads in Cairo, I was given the name of Ramin, who I knew had been distantly associated with the Blind Sheik. When I tried to question him, someone blew him up. But he did say that Yasin, another WTC bomber, was involved, and that he was planning an event for tomorrow night.
“Two: you guys uncover some Muslims in Los Angeles who are hiding plastic explosives under their bed. Some if it is missing.
“Three: a washed-up actor apparently gave money to some low-level troublemakers to buy plastic explosives from an arms dealer who got his hands on some.”
Nina Myers rubbed her temples. “There’s enough here to tell us something is going on, but not enough to know what.”
“No luck with the guys in custody?” Jack asked.
Nina scowled and said sarcastically, “They are holding up under our most ruthless interrogation methods. We’re only serving them tea twice a day now. They still won’t break.” Jamey Farrell chuckled.
“If it is a smaller target,” Jack mused, “what would it be? What people or events are happening tomorrow?”
Jamey ticked off a few things from memory. “The Pope is in town for the Unity Conference. The Vice President will be attending, but he’s not scheduled until the day after tomorrow and isn’t in town until the early morning of that day. The Governor of California will be in the city for a huge Democratic fundraiser, which is a likely political target. The space shuttle is scheduled to land tomorrow, although Edwards Air Force isn’t the primary landing site, always the emergency one.”
Henderson held up a hand to stop her. “Actually, it’s not. I read there are issues with the landing strip at Kennedy Space Center. Edwards is the primary zone now. Has been for over a month.”
They all paused. “The shuttle would be an interesting target,” Jack said. “If it’s Edwards, that adds new meaning to the fact that these bikers are somehow connected. Lancaster is a lot closer to Edwards than we are down here.” He looked at Henderson. “Do you have someone you can put on that?”
Henderson opened his arms wide. “I’ve got a whole room full of people,” he said humorlessly.
“Can you borrow—?” Jack started to say.
“Relax, Jack,” Henderson drawled. “You’re not the only resourceful one. There’s someone I’ve been after to join up. Guy named Almeida. I’ll see about him.”
“Another recruit?” Jack laughed.
“You’re not the only fish in the sea.”
“Okay,” Jack said. “So we’ll pursue the space shuttle angle. I’m going to deal with this Farrigian issue. I guess that’s it for now. Thank you all.”
The group started to disband. Nina Myers hung back until only she and Jack remained in the room. “You look like hell,” she said.
Jack looked up from the target list and grinned. “I don’t look much better when I’m cleaned up. Although my wife does try.”
She walked halfway to the door, then turned back toward him. “I like the way you take charge here.
You’re going to help us get this unit into shape.” “I turned down the job. I’m just working my own case through here.”
“Uh-huh,” she said dismissively. “You’re what this place needed. Oh, and by the way,” she said with a Cheshire cat smile. “You didn’t have to mention your wife. I saw the ring. I just don’t see it as an issue.”
Jack wasn’t often surprised, but her boldness left him momentarily speechless. She laughed charmingly at it. “You just keep that thought in mind. Might be a reason for you to stick around CTU. Meanwhile, I’ve got to keep up this ridiculous search for Abdul Ali, a man who seems to have vanished.”
“Excuse me.”
That same woman was standing in the doorway. Her arms were crossed in front of her and her feet were planted, as though she was prepared to be defiant. But she wore a look of astonishment. Jack had the impression that he’d caught her halfway between two different attitudes.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” the woman said. “Did you say you were looking for someone named Abdul Ali?”
Nina’s own expression had turned instantly from flirtatious to judgmental. “You’re the NTBS investigator, aren’t you?” she asked coldly.
“Diana Christie,” the woman affirmed. “It was Abdul Ali, right?”
Nina shook her head. “All respect, but this is a Federal case we’re discussing. You shouldn’t be eavesdropping—”
“I’m on a Federal case, too,” Christie interjected. For all her frail prettiness, she clearly had a hard, determined core. “And if I hadn’t just eavesdropped, you’d be out running your ass off for no reason. If I’m right, the guy you’re looking for is dead.”
Father Sam Collins crouched down beside his back door, trying to sweep up the glass one-handed. He’d broken his left arm a few weeks ago in a car accident, and it was causing him a lot of trouble. The break had been bad, apparently, and they’d put a steel rod in his arm and popped his dislocated elbow back into place. He hadn’t had his own doctor, and the archdiocese had recommended one to him. Collins wasn’t sure the man was any good. His arm hurt a hell of a lot.
The pain in his arm wasn’t the only thing making Collins grumpy. Someone had broken one of the glass squares in his beautiful French doors. At first he’d thought it was a robbery, but nothing had been taken. The door itself was still locked from the inside. Probably the gardener, Collins had thought with a sigh. It was probably time to get rid of his current guy. Melanie across the street had told him that you had to change gardeners every year or so because their work got sloppier. Collins didn’t like to believe that — he liked to believe the best in everyone. But someone had broken his window, that was certain.
Collins swept the big shards of glass into a paper grocery bag. Then he got out a Dustbuster and used that to suck up the smaller bits. By the time he was done, his left arm ached. He wished he could take a Vicodin, but they left him groggy for hours, and to morrow was an important day. Tomorrow he would sit at the right hand of the Holy Father at the Unity Conference. It was going to be a glorious day.
“This might be a break for both of us,” Diana summarized. “And it’s such a simple, stupid thing.”
“I’ve been looking for a dead man,” Nina said. “Abdul Ali, Ali Abdul. Just a mix-up of names. But why doesn’t anyone know he’s dead?”
“Someone knows,” Jack said. “Someone knows and doesn’t want to make a lot of noise about it, especially if Federal investigators are already asking.”
While Jack and Nina’s tension increased, Diana Christie was obviously relieved. “So this is an answer. At least part of one. If Abdul Ali is a suspect in your case, if he’s involved with this plastic explosive, then maybe he brought some on board. That’s what caused the detonation.”
Nina frowned. “Why would he want to blow up an Alaska Airlines flight? Could a bomb have gone off
