Collateral Damage - Marc Cerasini [70]
Jack peered around the corner, into the living room. The furnishings in here were sparse — Danish modern — sitting on a parquet floor. A sliding glass door looked out on a balcony and the park beyond. At only the eighth floor, Tobias's view of Central Park was basically a sea of treetops. Across the park, the windows of Manhattan's East Side skyscrapers glowed like stars above a dark, leafy sea.
On a table, a desktop computer displayed financial news. A large-screen TV mounted on the wall was still tuned to Serbian television, and Jack spied the satellite dish attached to the balcony's railing.
Finally, he saw the Albino. The man was lounging in a chair of cream-colored leather, legs crossed, clad in a silk robe. His white hair was damp from a shower, and he appeared to be dozing off — then Jack saw the hypodermic needle clutched in his pale hand.
Jack slipped past the man, searched the kitchen and dining room, and found no one else. Glock raised, Jack returned to the living room and boldly entered.
"Led pa Sneg!" Jack shouted, addressing the Albino as "Ice and Snow," the name the Pale One's victims had given him.
The Albino's colorless eyes opened wide, not with confusion but recognition. He moved to rise, and the robe's lapels parted, revealing a small black tattoo of a snarling dog on his milky chest. That's when Jack knew for certain: Erno Tobias, the Albino, was the Pale One.
As the brutal war criminal got to his feet to move forward, Jack took aim above the kneecap, avoiding the artery, and fired.
Howling, Erno Tobias dropped back into the chair. He clutched his leg to stanch the bleeding. Still shocked by the attack, the Albino looked up, and their eyes met.
"Remember me?" Jack asked.
* * *
11:53:46 P.M. EDT
Security Station One
CTU Headquarters, NYC
Morris O'Brian watched the screens, where real-time images out of Atlantic City displayed the firefight at the Ali Baba Casino from several different angles.
He tapped his keyboard, moved the mouse, and the speakers came to life, broadcasting chaotic radio transmissions from varied sources.
"...Shooter on roof. Return fire..."
"...We have multiple victims inside the casino. Need medical teams..."
"... He's taken a hostage. Bring in the sniper..."
"Officer down! Officer down!"
Peter Randall stood at Morris's shoulder, watching the screens in rapt attention. The phone rang and Morris grabbed it.
"O'Brian."
"It's Jack. I'm inside Erno Tobias's penthouse."
"Was the little bugger at home?"
"Affirmative," Jack replied. "I'm about to have a talk with him. But first I want to send you the contents of the Albino's computer."
Morris frowned. "Another data dump?"
"A large one."
Morris fed Jack the access codes for a large cache in the CTU database. "Everything you send, I'll copy and forward on to the analysts at Langley."
"Have the police found any more trucks?" Jack asked.
"There's mixed news on that front. Rutland, Vermont's been hit. A truck bomb went off at a factory. We don't know how bad it is yet, but authorities anticipate many casualties..."
Morris heard Jack exhale.
"But there's good news, too," he added quickly. "The New Jersey State Police and the local SWAT team stopped a truck outside a large casino in Atlantic City. The bomb's been neutralized, but several armed terrorists escaped into the casino. The firefight's still under way."
The silence on the other end of the line was heavy.
"Have you learned anything from Mr. Tobias?" Morris asked.
"I'll get back to you on that," Jack said, and the line went dead.
18
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 12:00 A.M. AND 1:00 A.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
12:00:20AM. EDT
Near 1313 Crampton Street
Newark, New Jersey
"For a gang-banger's crib, this place seems pretty dead," Tony said.
He and Judith Foy were on the stoop of an abandoned building on the opposite side of the street. Their surveillance had revealed a complete lack of activity at the Thirteen Gang's headquarters.
"Usually these places have a lively nightlife," said Tony.
"Punks coming and going. Women.