Collateral Damage - Marc Cerasini [4]
The driver was thrown forward, head striking the steering wheel. The Lincoln careened into a magazine kiosk and came to a halt.
Jack was beside the vehicle in seconds, Glock clutched in both hands. He checked the backseat, but no one else was in the car.
The driver's sunglasses and Lakers cap were gone now, and Jack recognized the man. He yanked the door open, dragged him out of the car, and slammed him down on the sidewalk.
"Who told you I was in New York?" Jack demanded, shaking the man by the lapels of his jacket. "Talk, De Salvo. Who tipped you off? Who set me up?"
The man's eyes were glazed with pain. He tried to laugh, coughed blood instead. "Go to hell, Bauer, you lousy son of a..."
His head lolled. Jack knelt over him and checked for a pulse, found none. He quickly searched the dead man, came up with a wallet and tucked it into his own pocket.
Tony rushed over, holding his weapon. He stared at the dead man. "Who is he?"
"W,as. Angelo De Salvo. His two older brothers masterminded the Hotel Los Angeles robbery."
Tony whistled. "No wonder he wanted you dead."
Sirens warbled, drowning out the street noise as three NYPD squad cars converged on the scene. Jack and Tony holstered their weapons and displayed their IDs. While the police circled them, both CTU agents glanced down the street, at the building that housed the Unit's New York headquarters. The place was still as a grave.
"I don't get it," Tony quietly said to Jack. "A firefight a block away, and no response from CTU?"
Jack frowned at his destination. "Looks like it's time to light a fire under these people."
* * *
7:48:17 AM EDT
CTU Headquarters, NYC
Jack Bauer leveled a cold gaze on the New York agent who met him at the elevator. She wore a pinstriped suit with a questionably short skirt and stacked heels. Her black hair was caught in a long, smooth ponytail. She had an olive complexion and large, dark, slightly almond-shaped eyes, with features that suggested Middle Eastern heritage. She introduced herself as Layla Abernathy.
"I need to meet with Director Brice Holman." Bauer's voice was less than friendly. "Now."
"Oh yes. Of course!" Agent Abernathy appeared momentary flustered, her gaze darting from Jack to Tony to Morris. But her composure returned inside of five seconds, and she matched Jack's hard stare. "Brice should be here any minute. I called his cell several times. I'm sure he'll check in soon..."
"That's not good enough," Jack cut in. "I left specific instructions that all CTU personnel were to be present when I arrived this morning." He took a step closer. "Where is Brice Holman?"
Layla Abernathy frowned. "I think he's in New Jersey."
Jack exchanged a glance with Tony, then asked Agent Abernathy, "What's he doing in New Jersey?"
"I don't know," Layla replied. "That is, I'm not sure. I'm not even supposed to know about..."
"What's his exact location? Be specific."
Abernathy took an uneasy breath. "Have you ever heard of a place called Kurmastan?"
* * *
7:50:31 A.M. EDT
Hunterdon County, New Jersey
Stretched out on his belly in a field of tall grass, Special Agent Brice Holman, newly appointed Director of CTU's New York Operations Center, gazed down at the tiny hamlet of Kurmastan.
Dubbed "Meccaville" by the farmers and horse breeders who lived around it, Kurmastan was primarily populated by men who'd converted to Islam in state and Federal penitentiaries, along with members of their families who'd also converted.
Ignoring the sun beating down on his head, the forty-five-year-old agent checked his watch, rubbed the sweat from his eyes, and went back to peering through a pair of digitally enhanced micro-binoculars.
Before coming to this rural field, Holman had reviewed almost two years of satellite surveillance on this small religious settlement. But those pictures failed to capture the dilapidated seediness of the place.
A dozen clapboard houses sat within the dusty compound, along with seventeen rusty mobile homes, all of them centered around a communal dining