Collateral Damage - Marc Cerasini [26]
"Then the local DEA has lost satellite capabilities, too."
"Apparently." Morris touched his finger to his chin.
"You know, Jack-o. None of these agencies are really thinking. If the situation was critical, they could always appropriate bandwidth from the civilian broadcast stations in the area. Practically all of them use the most powerful microwave tower in the city."
Jack sat up, alarmed. "Where?"
"Top of the World Trade Center, Jack."
"Can you tap into the WTC security system from this console?"
Morris shrugged. "Sure."
"Get to work."
While Morris keyed in the protocols, Jack summoned Layla Abernathy.
"Contact the Operations Control Center of the World Trade Center. Ask them if they've authorized any maintenance work near the microwave tower — specifically workers from Consolidated Edison."
Five minutes later they were scanning the streets around the twin towers for Con Edison trucks and men in blue uniforms.
"I've got nothing, Jack. Nobody on the streets. Nobody on the roof of the North Tower, where the antenna is located."
"Try the security cameras inside the maintenance shafts and freight elevators," Jack commanded.
Layla returned, and Jack faced her.
"The OC center at the World Trade Center has authorized no work on or near the microwave tower," she told him. "No one from Con Edison has passed through their security checkpoints today, either."
"Then who are these guys?" Morris replied, jerking his head at the monitor.
On screen, two men in Con Ed blue entered a freight elevator, accompanied by a man in a Port Authority policeman's uniform.
"The enemy," Bauer said grimly.
6
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 12:00 P.M. AND 1:00 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
12:07:41 P.M. EDT
The Flemington Traffic Circle
Flemington, New Jersey
The silver BMW entered the roundabout, then took the first exit onto New Jersey Route 12 west.
Cruising at sixty miles per hour, the Albino considered his short and expensive interaction with Congresswoman Hailey Williams.
As predicted, the woman eagerly accepted the deal we offered her. And why not? She's a politician— a whore for money— like the rest of her ilk.
Meanwhile, he slipped a disposable hypodermic needle out of a black bag on the floor. Holding the needle high, he pressed the plunger until a tiny bit of golden fluid pearled at the tip. Then he thrust the needle into his forearm, chewing his lower lip as he pushed the steroid and stimulant cocktail into his veins.
If only I'd learned this simple fact earlier in life, he mused, shaking back his long white hair. I wasted years as an assassin, only to find that buying a politician is so much easier than killing one.
His heart began to race and sweat beaded his brow. The veins on his neck and forehead quivered. The Albino clutched the wheel and stepped on the gas.
On the road back to Kurmastan, he noticed the many outlet stores for which Flemington was noted, each a huge, gaudy temple dedicated to consumerism. They sold designer shoes, designer coats, furs, jewelry — even designer foods.
His thin lips stretched into a tight smile.
This will soon end. In another year, the average American will be content to eat garbage, live in a cardboard box, and wear rags on his back.
Slipping into the fast lane, the Albino tossed the used needle out the window and reached for the cell in his pocket. He punched speed dial on an international exchange. It took a moment for the connection to be made.
"Ungar Financial, LLC, Geneva," a woman said in a coolly efficient voice.
"I must speak with Soren Ungar," the Albino rasped.
"Erno Tobias calling."
"I'll put you through immediately, sir."
* * *
12:39:51 P.M. EDT
North Tower World Trade Center
Jack Bauer stood inside a stairwell on the 110th floor of One World Trade Center.
He wore the Con Edison uniform taken from the intruder he'd killed on the roof of CTU, blood from the fatal head wound hastily cleaned. Jack had to roll up the sleeves to hide the fact that the shirt was too small. The collar was still damp,