Collateral Damage - Marc Cerasini [21]
"Halt," he cried. "You are in a restricted area. Drop the boxes and get down on the ground now."
The man's eyes were wide behind his thick glasses. He immediately dropped the boxes — then he took off, sprinting to the fire escape twenty yards away.
"Stop or I will shoot," Jack warned, stepping forward.
The man sped up. Jack dropped to one knee and aimed. At the last second he lowered his Glock, firing at the man's moving legs.
But just as Jack pulled the trigger, the man stumbled. Instead of hitting his knee, the 9mm bullet caught him squarely in the back of the head. The man went limp, his shattered lenses tumbled over the edge of the building as his corpse hit the roof with a muffled thump, his head inches from the ledge of the fire escape.
Bauer cursed.
Glock pointed at his victim, he cautiously approached. Jack didn't need to check the man's pulse to know he was dead. The back of his head was blown out, blood and brain matter splattered on the roof. Jack holstered his weapon, bent down, went through the man's pockets, but found nothing — not even a wallet.
Still crouched, he turned the dead man onto his back. On the man's forearm, Jack noticed a tattoo of a stylized number 13. He searched the front pockets of the man's uniform, frowned when he came up empty again.
Then he remembered the steel boxes. Jack rose and turned, his back to the fire escape. He took one step, and a bright flash exploded in his head. He never saw the blow coming. His legs buckled and he crashed to his knees.
Despite the sharp stab of agony that rattled his skull, Jack fought to stay conscious, until a vicious kick to the side of his head sent him sprawling.
A blond man in the Con Edison uniform stepped off the fire escape, rubbing his fist. He glanced at his dead partner, then drew his weapon. The silencer was still attached to the muzzle, and he placed it against Jack's bloodied temple.
Moaning, Jack coughed. "If you kill me, you'll never get off this roof alive."
The blond man chuckled, pushed the silencer until it gouged Jack's flesh.
"Shut up and die," he said.
5
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 11:00 A.M. AND 12:00 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
11:00:16 A.M. EDT
CTU Headquarters, NYC
On the ground, the silencer digging into his temple, Jack had no time to make a move before the final gunshot. When it came, Jack felt no pain. Instead, the pressure against his skull simply fell away.
Jack instantly realized he hadn't been shot. The blond man lurched backward, onto the fire escape, one limp hand brushing at the quickly spreading red stain on his blue shirt.
As Jack pulled his weapon, a second bullet caught the blond man in the throat. The blond dropped his gun, and his body pitched against the metal railing. Limply, without a sound, he fell headfirst into the street below.
Glancing around, Jack saw Tony Almeida, Glock still in hand. Tony walked over, helped Jack to his feet.
"Jack, are you..."
"I'm fine," Jack said hoarsely.
Tony stepped back, holstered his weapon.
Jack closed his eyes, took a breath. With every move, he was battered by waves of dizziness. Ignoring the pain, he opened his eyes, reholstered his own Glock.
Tony stepped to the fire escape and peered over the railing. "Sorry, Jack. I know you wanted one of them alive."
"Forget it," Jack rasped. "Let's find out what they were up to."
It took them less than a minute to find the bomb. It was planted at the base of the microwave communications array — a digital clock connected to a two-pound bundle of C-4.
Jack crouched low, fighting a wave of nausea. "I can defuse this," he said.
Tony pulled him away. "You're in no condition to do this. Let me handle it."
Before Jack could protest, the cell phone went off in his pocket. He answered, "Bauer."
"It's me, Jack-o," Morris said. "Where have you run off to?"
"I've been... busy," Jack said.
"I have news," Morris continued. "Both good and