“Please don’t kill me, Tony. I can help you. I can get you out of here, across the border. You’d be crazy to off the only guy who can help you. You know you don’t want to kill me…”
Dobyns kept talking, but Tony had stopped listening. There were a lot of reasons to shoot the man. His betrayal. Fay’s brutal murder. Turning Tony over to be tortured at the hands of the Chechens. His part in whatever scheme of terror was about to go down.
Yeah, Tony had a lot of reasons to kill Ray Dobyns. But in the end, the reason he finally pulled the trigger was to shut him the hell up.
Rush hour traffic was heavy on Tinsel Town’s glorified strip mall for obscenely expensive shopping. If you wanted a fifteen hundred dollar pair of shoes or a ten million dollar necklace, Rodeo Drive was the street for you. It was also the address for the lead Frank Castalano had given him.
Six blocks from the Valerie Dodge Modeling Agency, Jack dialed a number. The phone was answered on the first ring.
“Hello,” said Jack. “I need to speak with Ms. Valerie Dodge. It’s a matter of some importance. My name is—”
“Ms. Dodge is unavailable. Please call during business hours.”
The line went dead. The next call Jack made was to Jamey Farrell. “I need to you to check the IRS records for a Valerie Dodge Modeling Agency, CEO Valerie Dodge.”
“What are you looking for?”
“I need to know the name of a supplier. Someone Valerie Dodge’s agency works with often. Maybe the name of a company she uses as a major deduction.”
Jamey paused. “How much time can you give me? Ryan’s on my back. We’re about to run a diagnostic on Lesser’s virus program.”
“I need the information, Jamey, and I need it now.”
“Wait!” she cried. “I can use Fay Hubley’s bloodhound program. With Lesser here, all those megabits are going to waste. Let me just change the search parameters…”
A minute later, Jamey had the files Jack needed. “This program is amazing…Okay, I have an A.J. Milne Fashions, on Sepulveda.”
“Can you possibly cross check that company’s records with the overnight carriers, Federal Delivery, that kind of thing?”
“With Fay’s program I can. ” After a moment’s pause, she said, “Okay, I have a match. Federal Delivery had nine priority packages in Valerie Dodge’s name, all of them delivered today to the Chamberlain Auditorium.”
“Today?”
“Yeah, Jack.”
“That will do. I’ll get back to you.”
Jack pulled up and parked in front of Valerie Dodge Modeling. The woman’s office occupied the first floor of a faux-adobe building. There were no windows in the front of the building and the door was locked. Jack saw the intercom and pressed the bell. He buzzed three times before a voice crackled from the speaker. Jack recognized the woman’s voice. It was the same person he’d just spoken with on the phone.
“We’re closed,” she said.
“This is Federal Delivery. A delivery to the Chamberlain Auditorium was refused. We’re returning the package to the sender.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Jack moved close to the door, drew his Tactical. A woman walking her poodle saw the gun and moved quickly from the scene. Jack heard the lock click. The knob turned and the door opened a crack. There was no chain in place and Jack kicked open the door. It crashed against a blond woman and she flew backward, striking her head against the wall. Jack moved through the doorway, weapon ready as he scanned the office for threats.
There were two people in the whole place: the blond woman he’d knocked senseless, and a female corpse that had been unceremoniously dumped in a corner. The blond woman was lying still. Jack leveled his weapon at her, kicked the gun out of her hand.
He searched the office, saw a handbag on a chair. He rifled through it, found a wallet, and ID. The picture of Valerie Dodge matched the face of the corpse.
He noticed the computer on the desk, print outs stacked up around it. On the monitor he saw a schematic similar to the one they’d printed out at architect Nawaf Sanjore’s home. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, saw the woman on the floor shifting, heard her groan.
“What are these plans on the screen?” he called to her. “What are you up to?”
The woman wiped a trickle of blood off her cheek, saw her gun was gone. She seemed to realize she was helpless, trapped.
“Why did you murder Valerie Dodge? What are these plans for?” Jack repeated.
The woman moved to sit up, adjust her clothing.
“Answer me,” barked Jack. He moved toward her, pointing the Tactical.
The woman simply smirked. “You can kill me, but you’re too late to stop us.”
Her smile turned radiant, eyes bright. Suddenly she looked away, bit down on something. Jack saw her jaw move, heard the crunch of the capsule in her mouth. With a gasp, the blond woman began jerking spastically, legs kicking wildly, foam flecking her mouth.
“No!” Jack shouted. He leaped toward her, reached into her mouth to pull out the poison. He found bits of glass on her bloody tongue. The woman’s eyes went wide and she gurgled. With a final spasm, she died. Jack checked for a pulse, found none.
He gazed at her young, lovely face, and the smile of pure ecstasy that remained after all life had fled.
Then Jack stood up, crossed the room. He slumped down in the office chair and studied the computer screen. Within a few seconds, he found the text box that identified the plans he was looking at. Heart racing, he called Ryan Chappelle.
“Ryan. Valerie Dodge is dead — murdered. Someone was in her office, using her computer. There are schematics on the monitor, part of the same plans Nina found—”
“We’ve already got a situation here, Jack. Can’t this wait?”
“Ryan. You have to listen to me. These plans. They’re blueprints for the Terrence Alton Chamberlain Auditorium. Whatever is happening there is already in motion. Our time may have already run out.”
Richard Lesser leaned back in an office chair. He sat at a vacant computer station, behind Jamey, Milo, and Doris Soo Min, observing their activity with detachment.
The three CTU analysts were busy isolating a computer, physically disconnecting it from the mainframe and all other networks so Lesser’s virus could not escape. Ryan Chappelle stood behind them, watching them work. When the team was sure the single server was secure, Doris plugged Lesser’s thumb drive into a USB port.
“It’s loaded,” she said after a few minutes.
The group was about to take their first look at the virus when Ryan’s cell phone chirped. The Regional Director checked the identity of the caller, then answered. He stepped away from the group to talk in private.
Doris decided not to wait for Ryan and punched up the diagnostic analysis program she’d built into Frankie.
“Looks like a pretty straightforward start and stop protocol here,” she said as data popped up on the monitor. “That kind of thing is annoying, but most servers can deal with them.”
“This virus is complex, though. A real mother,” Milo observed as more data appeared.
“Good thing we have a copy,” said Doris. “In the next five hours, I’m sure we can create some kind of firewall. That way the major ISPs will be shielded, at least…”
While the others were busy watching the screen, Lesser turned toward the computer at the vacant workstation — a computer still hooked into CTU’s mainframe. He quietly established a quick link to the CIA’s system in D.C., then smiled to himself.
The more chaos, the better.