Collateral Damage - Marc Cerasini [72]
Jack slapped him hard, then knelt down and spoke softly into his ear. "That's ancient history. Let's talk about your current operation. Why are you helping Noor?"
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend." The Albino snorted, licked blood offhis lip. "Now you have them in your backyard. Let's see how you like it..."
Jack fought the urge to strike him again. Instead, he grinned coldly. "You blew it, Tobias — or whatever the hell your name really is. Even at the restaurant in Little Italy, I had no idea who you were, where you were from. But when I ran into that Serbian hit team at the World Trade Center, I started to get the picture. The people at Kurmastan are just pawns. Someone else is pulling the strings."
Jack grabbed a handful of the man's white hair and yanked his head back. "Who are you working for?" Jack yelled. "Who's pulling the strings and why?"
Jack released the man and the Albino hung his head.
"I hurt," he said softly.
Jack's fists clenched. He thought of the Black Dogs, all the murders, rapes, and carnage they'd committed in Serbia. He thought of Kurmastan and those trucks of death, rolling down America's highways now.
"If you don't tell me what I need to know," Jack promised, "the pain is going to get a whole lot worse."
* * *
12:23:47 A.M. EDT
Security Station One
CTU Headquarters, NYC
The phone rang. Morris O'Brian's eyes never left the monitor as he snatched the phone off its cradle.
"O'Brian."
"It's Tony."
"Ah, the prodigal son."
"Listen, Morris, we found the Thirteen Gang's headquarters. It's located at 1313 Crampton Street, Newark..."
"1313?" Morris interrupted.
"Yeah."
"You're serious?"
"Listen, we found something else, too."
Morris winced. On the monitor, three Atlantic City police officers had just cut down a terrorist who'd ignored repeated commands to drop his weapon.
"What... what did you find?" Morris asked, turning away from the bloody sight on the screen.
"We don't exactly know," Tony replied. "There's some kind of laboratory or drug factory or something inside the Crampton Street warehouse, which is supposed to be abandoned. A garage door opened up and Judith Foy shot a couple of surveillance photos. But we have no way to analyze the images on this end."
"Can you send them along? Or is Deputy Director Foy still worried about leaks?"
Tony sighed. "I've convinced her the leaks have been plugged, but we don't have a PDA. I can send the images to you through my cell phone, but they're bound to lose some resolution."
"I know. Wish our technology was better. Maybe in a few years..."
"Morris! We don't have a few years."
"We can enhance the digital images on this end, Tony, make your pictures as good as new. Just send them along."
O'Brian gave Tony a phone number to use for the data dump. After he hung up, Morris faced Peter Randall. "We've got some intelligence coming in. It will be dumped in cache twenty-two. Digital images. I'm rather swamped here. Can you analyze them?"
"Sure, I'll be glad to, Mr. O'Brian," Randall replied.
"I'll do the work at Security Station Two, if you don't mind. Less distractions..."
"Good lad," Morris murmured, his eyes drifting back to the live feed of the firefight in Atlantic City. But as soon as Peter Randall was gone, Morris reached for the phone.
* * *
12:56:18 A.M. EDT
Eighth Floor, BeresfieId Apartments
Central Park West
New York, New York
"A name," Jack Bauer demanded.
"It will do you... no good..." The Albino's voice was weak. He let out a moan of agony, blood streaking his pale face. "You can't stop... what's about to happen."
"A name." Jack coolly dug the kitchen knife deeper into the man's ravaged wound.
The Albino cried out, perspiration beading his forehead.
"A name." Jack probed even deeper, hitting bone.
"NOW!"
"Soren Ungar!" the Albino blurted out. "His company, Ungar, Geneva, LLC, is the real owner of Rogan Pharmaceuticals."
"And it was Rogan that provided the drugs that drove the men and women of Kurmastan mad?" Jack hissed, twisting the blade.
"Yes!" the Albino shouted.
Jack yanked