Collateral Damage - Marc Cerasini [51]
She frowned. "Two of them had IDs. Both are... were born in the United States. And none of these three dead women are of Middle Eastern descent." The notion seemed to confound Layla Abernathy, but Jack didn't have time to deal with her existential dilemmas right now.
Jack addressed the teenager. "Who are you? What were you doing inside the compound?"
Danielle Taylor told them her name and where she lived. Then the harrowing story of her captivity came tumbling out of her mouth. She told them about the church group, the torture, and the beheadings. Near the end of her tale, she mentioned a Mr. Holman, the man who helped her escape.
"Holman?" Layla interrupted. "Brice Holman?"
Dani nodded.
Before Jack could silence her, Layla spoke again.
"Holman is an agent for the Counter Terrorist Unit of the CIA," she told Dani. "I'm from CTU, too. Brice is my superior."
Dani instantly paled, and Jack could see the look of fear and panic return to her eyes. He also sensed the girl was hiding something. He knew the only way she would open up was if he somehow earned her trust.
"Forget about that," Jack said gently. "We're here to help. My name is Jack Bauer. I'm..."
Then the ground trembled under their feet. As one, thousands of birds burst out of the trees and took to the sky as the rumbling roar of multiple explosions battered their ears.
Dani cried out. Layla dropped to the ground, clutching her head.
Jack whirled, seeing a dozen blasts and plumes of black smoke rising from the center of Kurmastan. On the opposite end of town, flames lit up the sky above the old paper factory.
More explosions followed. Several clapboard homes blew apart, sending debris leaping into the afternoon sky. Then a mobile home erupted, bursting asunder like a shoe box stuffed with firecrackers.
Trailers went up in smoke and flames, the eruptions continuing for almost thirty seconds before the cacophony finally subsided. As Layla hugged the earth, smoke billowed over their position. It stank of cordite, scorched metal, and burned flesh.
"Inshallah," Layla muttered from the ground.
Jack crouched over Agent Abernathy. "Stay here," he told her. "Call Morris and tell him to send backup. We'll need tactical teams and a medical unit." Jack pointed to the teenager. "Take care of the girl, too..."
"What are you going to do?" Layla demanded.
"I'm going down there to find out what the hell is happening."
12
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 6:00 P.M. AND 7:00 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
6:05:50 P.M. EDT
Security Station One
CTU Headquarters, NYC
Morris O'Brian watched flickering, real-time satellite images of the shattered town. Thick smoke crossed his monitor screen like a creeping black smudge. Flames licked the walls and roof of the rambling factory.
He was tempted to alert the local firefighting authorities — though in that isolated region of rural New Jersey, Morris wasn't sure what resources were actually available.
It wasn't his call, anyway, so Morris didn't make it.
Jack Bauer had called for backup and Morris obeyed — dispatching two tactical assault teams and a medical unit. Estimated time of arrival: twenty-eight minutes and fifty-five seconds, according to his threat clock.
"The last chopper's just lifted off from the heliport," Peter Randall informed him. "No problem with clearance this time."
Morris nodded — then his cell phone beeped. Bloody hell? Who's calling me on my personal line?
But it wasn't a call. His ISP had just alerted him to an urgent e-mail waiting in his cache. Morris looked around for the briefcase computer he had brought with him that morning, found it behind the door where he'd left it when he started work on the troubled security system.
He dumped the briefcase on his desk and opened the lid. He wiped his thumb over the fingerprint sensor, and got clearance to proceed. His ISP protocols and passwords were programmed into the computer, and Morris had the "urgent message" on screen in seconds.
The e-mail