“It’s inhuman. Not even an animal should be treated like this,” Jack muttered, moving to free the man. But as soon as he approached al Sallifi, the old man howled and lunged at him, raking the air with filthy claws. Jack cursed and stumbled back.
He waited a moment for the man to settle down, then Jack took a cautious step forward. Al Sallifi charged again, snarling as he strained against the rattling chains that bound him to the wall.
Knowing there was nothing more he could do, Jack quickly fled the bunker, into the smoke-shrouded afternoon.
Outside, he heard the roar of turboshaft engines, the steady beat of helicopter blades cutting the air.
The reinforcements had arrived.
Too impatient to wait for the strike teams, Jack headed back up the hill, through the ruined mobile home park, to the grove where he had left Layla Abernathy and Dani Taylor.
Layla Abernathy watched the CTU helicopters circle above the blazing compound, before setting down in a cyclone of smoke and burning embers.
She glanced at her wristwatch, wondering why Jack Bauer had not yet returned. Layla fished for the micro-binoculars on her belt, but before she peered through them, she glanced at Dani. The girl was squatting on the soft loam, legs folded under her. Then Layla recognized something shiny on the ground beside the girl, something that had fallen out of the pocket of her pants.
“Is that Brice Holman’s cell phone?” Layla asked.
Dani jumped as if startled, then snatched up the phone.
“No, it’s mine.”
“That phone belongs to Brice,” Layla insisted. “That’s what CTU was tracking when Jack found you.”
She stared at the girl, her mind roiling. Holman could very well have the key to all this chaos locked inside that device. Digital recordings. Surveillance logs. Photographic images.
Layla knelt down beside the teenager. “You have to give me that cell phone,” she said urgently.
“No!” Dani cried.
“This is a matter of national security.” Layla reached for the phone.
Dani screamed, and the two women struggled. Layla was petite, but better trained. In a few deft moves, she had the girl pinned to the ground.
“Give me that phone,” Layla demanded. “I can’t let some moody adolescent jeopardize innocent lives.”
Suddenly a shadow fell over the women. Layla looked up, just as a foot lashed out and struck her temple.
Without a sound, Layla toppled to the ground and stayed down. Dani slid out from under her, looked up at the newcomer.
“Mr. Holman!” she cried. “You’re alive.”
Brice Holman stumbled, then slumped to the ground.
“Barely,” he grunted, clutching his belly. Dani saw black blood seeping through his shirt.
Dani threw her arms around Holman. He touched her arm reassuringly, then stared at the still form on the ground.
“Judy warned me,” he said to the unconscious Agent Abernathy. “She was sure you were a mole. I thought it was Rachel Delgado, but I guess Foy was right…”
Then Holman grunted and clutched his gut with both arms. “Won’t be long now,” he rasped.
Another figure entered the clearing. Holman looked up, into the barrel of Jack Bauer’s Glock.
“Who are you?” Jack demanded. “What did you do to Agent Abernathy?”
Dani hurled herself between the two men. “This is Mr.
Holman. The man who helped me!”
Bauer lowered his weapon. “I’ve been searching for you all day.”
“You’re Jack Bauer? From the Los Angeles unit?”
Jack nodded.
“Forgive me if we don’t shake hands. I’m holding my guts in place at the moment.” Holman winced again.
“Listen, we have to talk, Bauer, and fast. I don’t have much time…”
“I’ll call the paramedics,” Jack said. “There’s a medical unit hovering around here somewhere.”
Brice Holman took his cell from Dani Taylor’s hand and offered it to Jack. “Use my phone.”
13. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 7:00 P.M. AND 8:00 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
Flickering flames still rose from the ruined town. In the debris-strewn streets, helicopters idled and armed silhouettes moved through the billowing smoke. Down in the valley, the shadows deepened — the sun would set in an hour or so.
Jack used mini-binoculars to watch the medical team move among the mobile homes. Following his GPS signal, they were making their way up the hill to perform triage on Director Brice Holman. After personally examining the man’s ravaged abdomen, Jack didn’t think they would make it in time.
Sprawled on the ground, head cradled in Dani Taylor’s lap, Brice grinned, but the amusement never touched his pain-ravaged eyes.
“Turns out a pitchfork can kill you as dead as a nine-millimeter,” he grunted.
Also on the ground, Layla Abernathy groaned and stirred, but her eyes didn’t open. Jack ignored the traitor.
He had secured the woman’s wrists and ankles with flex ties, so she wasn’t going anywhere.
Brice Holman’s intense gaze locked with Jack Bauer’s.
“Twelve trucks, Bauer. All of them with the Dreizehn Trucking logo,” Holman said ominously. “Between eighty-five and a hundred fanatics aboard them. If the forces are divided equally… Hell, you do the math, Bauer. I’m too damned tired. But I have lots of intelligence inside that phone. The access code is Bin 666 Charlie seven — that’s the word seven spelled out in letters, got it?”
Jack nodded. Holman relaxed, slumping against Dani Taylor. The teenager had never left his side, even when Bauer exposed the deep puncture wounds and tried—
vainly — to staunch the bleeding.
“Listen, Bauer, these trucks are packed with deadly cargo. Guns. Ammunition. Explosives. Maybe chemical and biological weapons, too. One truck left the compound early this morning. The rest later, maybe the early afternoon. They fanned out in all directions…”
Holman winced against the pain. When he spoke again, his voice was weaker, his tone more urgent. “You’ve got to stop them. Send out a nationwide bulletin, alert all Federal, state, and local law enforcement agencies. Track them down. Use satellites. Raid truck stops and diesel fuel dumps — whatever it takes.”
Holman groaned, and fresh blood stained the bundled cloth he clutched to his guts. “It’s up to you now, Bauer.
There’s no one else who can stop these terrorists. Nobody but you.”
Bauer nodded. “I’ll stop them, Holman. I swear it.”
The medical team arrived at that moment. They dragged a protesting Dani aside, then began to work over the man.
Bauer stepped to the edge of the hill and tugged Holman’s cell out of his pocket, dialed up CTU New York.
“O’Brian here.”
“It’s Jack, Morris. Prepare to receive data.”
“Ready.”
Jack punched in Holman’s security code, located the intelligence cache, and pressed the send button.
Behind him, Jack heard Dani sobbing. A paramedic appeared at his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Agent Bauer,” the woman said softly. “We did what we could, but Director Holman lost too much blood. He’s gone…”
Morris O’Brian downloaded the contents of Brice Holman’s cell phone. After opening the files in his briefcase computer, he copied the data, bundled it with the information retrieved from Judith Foy’s cell, then forwarded complete data packages to the Central Intelligence Agency in Langley; FBI Headquarters in Washington, D.C.; and CTU Los Angeles for further analysis.