“Explain,” Jack ordered.
“At first we thought we were dealing with a simple sarin compound,” Vogel replied. “Sarin, or O-Isopropyl meth-ylphosphonofluoridate, is a clear, colorless, and odorless nerve agent classified by the United Nations as a weapon of mass destruction. Sarin is nothing new, of course. It was developed in the late 1930s by German researchers looking for a better pesticide. What they created instead is one of the deadliest compounds on earth. Sarin has been used—”
“Zahhak is not sarin, then?” Jack interrupted.
“Not precisely,” Vogel said. “Like sarin, Zahhak is very unstable. It can break down in days, which is why Kabbibi needed a lab here in America to produce the weapon.
Various substances have been tried to make the agent more stable and increase its shelf life. A stabilizer chemical called tributylamine has been used in the past, with mixed results. Dr. Said Kabbibi tried something different, something revolutionary, and it worked.”
Jack’s impatience with the technician threatened to boil over. He opened his mouth to speak; Layla restrained him with a gesture.
“Layla Abernathy here,” she interrupted. “You said this was both a chemical and a biological weapon?”
“I was getting to that,” Vogel said testily. “Kabbibi initially tried to bond various bacteria with the sarin substance, hoping to make the chemical more stable. He tried many organics without success, until he stumbled upon bacteria called Clostridium perfringens. The result was a two-pronged weapon of mass destruction more deadly than anything previously encountered.”
“Two-prong?” Jack cut in.
“Let me explain,” Vogel said with a sigh. “A terrorist attack in the Middle East often involves two sets of explosive devices. After the initial blast and resulting casualties, emergency workers stream to the scene of the attack.
That’s when the terrorists unleash a second string of blasts, to kill those rushing to aid the victims.”
Jack frowned, recalling accounts he’d read of such dia-bolical attacks.
“When Zahhak is unleashed, the sarin compound immediately attacks the nervous system of its victims,” Vogel continued. “Symptoms present in minutes include runny nose, tightness in the chest, constriction of the pupils, nausea, drooling. Difficulty in breathing increases as the victims lose control of their bodily functions. They urinate.
Defecate. Vomit. Bleed from the nose and mouth. Death soon follows — but Zahhak’s threat doesn’t end there.”
“Explain,” Jack said tightly.
“The biological agent— Clostridium perfringens—is introduced into the victim’s body along with the gas, causing an outbreak of necrotizing fasciitis.”
“Of what?” Abernathy asked.
“A condition commonly known as ‘flesh-eating bacteria’ occurs. The bacteria work too slowly to affect the initial victims of the gas, but their bodies and their bodily fluids are immediately contaminated with the bacteria.
Clostridium perfringens is highly contagious. Exposure from a single touch, or even breathing the weaponized bacteria, can cause infection and a slow and agonizing death. There is no cure.”
“This is monstrous,” Layla whispered. “Emergency workers and hospital personnel would end up becoming the ones infected — emergency response would be taken out first.”
“It gets worse,” Vogel informed them. “Within minutes of dispersal through an aerosol dispenser, Zahhak forms a solid. In that state, the effects of the sarin are neutralized, but the malignant bacteria live on. In fact, it is virtually indestructible at this point. And the solid particles are mi-croscopic in size, so they become airborne, spreading the contagion across hundreds of miles.”
“Dr. Vogel, is there a vaccine or countermeasure to combat Zahhak?” Jack asked.
“Countermeasure?” Vogel replied, his tone bitter. “My colleagues and I are not precisely sure how this substance works. A countermeasure or vaccine may be years away—
or a pipe dream. Once Zahhak is unleashed, it is like a genie that can never be returned to its bottle.”
“What can we do?” rasped Jack.
“Stop it before it’s released,” Vogel replied. “In its liquid or gaseous state, Zahhak is very sensitive to moisture and heat, which is why Kabbibi needed liquid oxygen to keep the substance cool. Zahhak can be destroyed by heating it to a temperature above 160 degrees centigrade. It is also completely soluble in water — steam would be ideal to render the agent inert, but only in its liquid or gaseous state. Once it becomes a solid, there is nothing that can be done to contain its deadly effects.”
Vogel ended the call at that point, informing Jack he was scheduled to brief the President. Christopher Henderson came on line.
“Any thoughts, Jack?”
Bauer’s mind raced. “When I was talking to Dubic, and he believed he was talking to the Albino, Dubic said something about a rendezvous at the bull this morning. Is that a section of New York? A building, plaza, or park?”
Layla blinked. “You’re kidding, right? Wait. I forgot you’re from Los Angeles.”
“Cut to the chase,” Tony growled.
“There is a bull,” Layla told them. “The Wall Street Bull, a two-and-a-half-ton bronze sculpture of a charging bull. It sits in Bowling Green Park. The statue was erected after the 1987 stock market crash, and it’s become the symbol of the Financial District.”
“That’s it, then!” Jack said. “Noor’s heading for Wall Street, and we’re going to be there to meet him.”
Ibrahim Noor steered the truck onto Broadway, joined the flow of traffic heading downtown. Though it was early, rush hour was already in full swing in the Financial District. The morning sun was bright, heralding a warm day.
In the passenger seat, Said Kabbibi twitched nervously.
He was about to speak when the traffic light turned red, forcing Noor to brake. Cross traffic from Cedar Street quickly crammed the intersection.
Kabbibi groaned, tugged on the collar of his utility worker’s uniform. “I fear we will not make it to the park in time. Unfortunately I cannot stop the timer now. The aerosol device will release the toxin at precisely seven-thirty.”
“Relax,” Noor said. “We’re only a few blocks away.”
“Good,” Kabbibi replied, moping his brow with a hand-kerchief. “I do not want to be anywhere near this place when the Zahhak is released.”
The light turned green, but so many cars blocked the intersection that they couldn’t make it through. Kabbibi became even more agitated.
“I told you to relax,” Noor rumbled. “By nine o’clock, we’ll be on a private jet to Geneva, and America will be on its knees.”
The roof of the mid-rise Bartleby Tower, right across the street from the Cunard Building, provided a perfect perch to observe traffic rolling down Broadway.
Jack Bauer was there, along with Tony Almeida, Layla Abernathy, and Director Christopher Henderson. Three telescopes had been set up, each focused on downtown traffic.
“I’m checking the truck that just turned onto Broadway from Exchange Street,” Jack said, peering through the lens. “The logo says Carvel Ice Cream.”
He zoomed in, spied a bored Asian man behind the steering wheel. “Looks like a negative,” Jack said.
His headset crackled. “This is Bio-Monitor One. That truck is clean.”