“I beg your forgiveness, Major,” Sergeant Raschid said, eyes forward.
“At ease,” the Major replied with a hint of a smile. “I only meant to alert you that a vehicle is approaching, in case you had not noticed.”
Sergeant Raschid hefted his M-16 as the electronic gate swung open, and a white Dodge van swung into the driveway.
“It is probably a routine delivery,” said Major Salah. “But see what they want.”
Sergeant Raschid and Corporal Hourani turned their backs on their commander as the van approached the gazebo. Eyes on the approaching vehicle, the soldiers did not see Major Salah slip two six-inch black stilettos out of hidden sheaths. And their deaths were so quick the two men barely felt the simultaneous thrusts that plunged the cold, hard steel blades deep into their brains.
The van rolled to a halt in front of the gazebo a moment later. The passenger door opened. Major Salah stepped over the dead men and climbed into the cab next to the blond-haired, blue-eyed driver. Behind them, a half dozen armed, masked men huddled inside the van’s cargo bay.
“I have observed the American intelligence agent and learned that CTU knows nothing. Once Ibn is dead, their only connection to Hasan will be severed.”
“So we strike?”
Salah nodded. “The way is open. We will kill the minister, his son, and his sister. And I will take care of Jack Bauer personally.”
10. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 2 P.M. AND 3 P.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME
Sweeping in among the very first wave of reporters to enter the Free Trade Pavilion since its opening last month, Christina Hong, KHTV Seattle’s twentyeight-year-old entertainment reporter, could not help but be impressed. The Pavilion was designed by Saudi-American architect Nawaf Sanjore, and featured a vaulted glass ceiling and three lofty steel and glass ziggurats of various heights, the tallest of which reached eighteen stories into the Los Angeles skyline.
Christina knew from her extensive research that the Pavilion was just one wing of the Russia East Europe Trade Alliance headquarters on Wilshire Boulevard, a twelve-story office building that housed the international trade organization. REETA had been established to promote mutually beneficial economic and political associations among the members of the former Soviet Union. The governments of these new republics were often at odds with one another, yet REETA had been instrumental in forging trade pacts that revived, modernized or transformed old industries into profitable new ventures.
The area of most interest to Christina Hong — who enjoyed covering the business side of the entertainment industry and harbored dreams of hosting her own cable news show — was the phenomenal resurrection of the Eastern European film industry in the last five years. Thanks to an infusion of capital from REETA, the movie business was alive and thriving in places like Prague, Budapest, Belgrade.
Yet this sea change in the film industry had gone virtually unnoticed by most media types. Christina Hong would not have known herself, except that two months ago her station manager had sent her to do an up-tempo story on American actors and extras who moved to Montreal from California or New York City for better acting jobs. Instead of finding happy and fulfilled character performers, she interviewed people who were suddenly strapped for work. The reason? Because so many so-called Hollywood productions were being shot in Eastern Europe.
The term outsourcing sprang immediately to mind and Christina realized that her producer had sent her to cover the wrong story. From long nights spent doing research on the Internet, or with the Lexis/Nexis search engine, Ms. Hong discovered that the Russia East Europe Trade Alliance was the catalyst for the change. She also learned that the organization itself was the brainchild of a single visionary man— financier and internationalist Nikolai Manos, a sometimes controversial figure who earned great wealth and power through his shrewd dealings on the international currency markets.
Suddenly the crowd surged around her, shaking Christina out of her thoughts. She saw people approach a raised stage at the opposite end of the hall and ordered Ben, her cameraman, to stake out a choice position before the press conference began.
“Let me know if you spot Nikolai Manos in this mob,” she said. “I’d like to corner him with a few questions if I get the chance.”
Ben brushed a tumble of brown bangs away from his face. “What’s your fascination with this guy? I’d rather be over at the Chamberlain taking red carpet footage of the stars than watching a bunch of suits pat one another on the back.”
“Manos is a billionaire.” Christina chuckled. “Every girl is interested in a billionaire.”
“You probably know more about this guy than you know about yourself.”
“Go. Shoo,” Christina commanded.
In her heart-of-hearts, Christina knew Ben was right. She did know an awful lot about Manos — he was born in Prague, the son of a Russian physician and a Greek freight tycoon, and orphaned at an early age. After the death of his parents, Manos inherited the bulk of his father’s modest wealth, and multiplied it several times. Then, five years ago at the age of fifty, Nikolai Manos altered his life trajectory, to become something of a philanthropist. He established REETA with a large chunk of his personal fortune, in a seemingly altruistic effort to benefit the overall economy of Eastern Europe. Nikolai Manos’s stated goal in creating the organization was peace through prosperity, and Manos was doing his part to bring about a measure of understanding to one of the bitterest political situations in the region — the feud between the Chechen people and Russia, their much resented masters.
All that, Christina knew, could be found in a REETA press release. Digging deeper — much deeper — she had discovered that Nikolai Manos had made enemies in his years of speculation in the money markets.
From the archives of the Wall Street Journal, she learned that among his business rivals Nikolai Manos had a ruthless reputation. In an interview with a former high-level employee in Manos’s money market fund, it was revealed that the financier had knowingly pushed legal boundaries in his quest for profit.
Some of Nikolai Manos’s activities even bordered on the criminal — at least in the view of certain foreign governments. In Singapore he was a wanted criminal because of a scheme he allegedly devised to undermine that nation’s currency. Speaking off the record to a government official, Ms. Hong also learned that Manos was the subject of an ongoing Securities and Exchange Commission investigation in the United States.
But today, as she looked around at all the happy faces, the glamorous stars and producers, the media tycoons and business leaders who came out for this event, it was clear to Christina that the tycoon’s checkered past and current woes did not seem to trouble the elite in this town. For them, the celebrity they turned out to see was Marina Katerine Novartov, the attractive and popular wife of Russian President Vladimir Novartov. Russia’s First Lady was in America to attend the Silver Screen Awards, and meet with America’s President and First Lady in Washington later in the week.
Right now the First Lady of Russia, a former principal dancer for the Bolshoi, stood in the middle of a small stage, swathed in a Diane von Furstenburg dress and grinning at the cameras. As the short press conference began, the woman haltingly answered questions, sometimes with the help of her translator.
Standing beside her on stage was the man who had been Christina Hong’s obsession for the past month or more — Nikolai Manos. A full head shorter than Marina, Manos preferred to hug the sidelines, offering the popular First Lady as the main course for the hungry media. Christina studied the man, going so far as to snap a few photos with her own digital camera, despite the presence of her camera crew.