Collateral Damage - Marc Cerasini [9]
"I've got the system up and running now," Morris replied. "It was just a little glitch, really. I left Almeida behind to establish a network that integrates the cameras in the lobby, the parking garage, and the roof with Security Station One."
"How long will that take?"
"I could do it in fifteen minutes. Tony should be done in an hour or so. Once the network is established, we can watch everything on the monitors."
Jack leaned close to Morris. "How about that other matter?"
O'Brian fished the bloodstained wallet out of his jacket, handed it back to Jack. "It's a fake ID," Morris said. "Angelo De Salvo was living under the alias Angel Salinas, in an apartment in the Bowery. He worked for Fredo Mangella, an international restaurateur who owns four-star dining spots in Paris, Madrid, London, Rome, and here in New York. Mangella has an office above Volare, his eatery on Mulberry Street."
Bauer nodded. "Good work. Now I have another job for you. This one's urgent. I want you to crack the security on Director Holman's computer."
Morris's eyes went from Jack Bauer to Layla Abernathy and back again. Then he dropped into the Director's chair. "This might take a little time," he warned.
"Just do it," Jack replied. He faced Abernathy. "You have something to show me?"
Layla nodded. "These files contain security briefs — summaries of just about everything we've got on Kurmastan, up until the District Director shut down the investigation."
Jack accepted the thick file, leafed through it. Inside, he found photographs and reams of surveillance reports — two years' worth.
"Let's find a conference room to review this," he said.
* * *
8:31:58 A.M. EDT
Parking garage
CTU Headquarters, NYC
A pair of utility workers blithely strode down the ramp, into the restricted parking garage ten floors beneath the CTU offices.
In the lead, a slight African-American man, in a blue Con Edison uniform under an oversized yellow vest, carried two large steel toolboxes. Under black-rimmed, bottle-thick glasses too large for his narrow face, the man's dark brown eyes appeared wide and alert.
The other man was tall and blond, with a flat face, ghost-blue eyes, and Slavic features. His neck seemed too thick for his uniform, and the sleeves were rolled up around his burly arms. He carried a circle of electric cable over one shoulder, a hazard vest slung over the other. This one was in the middle of a story.
"... so I told the bitch I couldn't pay her rent this month because I lost two large at OTB..."
The smaller man snorted. "Serves you right, putting your cash down on the ponies. What did your woman say to that?"
Both security guards stepped out of the glass-enclosed hutch and approached the utility workers.
"She said if I want the honey, I gotta feed the bear," the blond man replied. "Can you believe that? And you know what I said?"
"Excuse me, gentlemen," a CTU guard interrupted.
"You're not supposed to be down here..."
The blond man dropped his hazard vest, leveled the hidden 9mm USP Tactical at the guards. The silencer took care of the noise, muffling the gunshots in the low-ceilinged garage.
The first bullet caught the guard in the throat. The second blew the back of the head off the other man.
"So what did you say?" asked the slight black man, pushing up his thick glasses.
"I told the bitch that I'd rather go bear hunting," the big blond replied, lowering his weapon.
The black man set down his boxes, moved into the bulletproof hutch, and jumped behind the computer console. The big blond dragged the corpses out of sight behind a parked car.
Footsteps sounded, and the blond man paused, drawing his weapon again. He immediately relaxed when he saw the man in the CTU uniform striding quickly down the ramp.
"Have the cameras been deactivated?" the newcomer asked.
The black man stuck his head out of the hutch. "I don't think they were functional. But if they were, they aren't now."
The newcomer in the CTU security uniform moved toward the blond. The blond man took the badge and name tag off one of the murdered guards