Collateral Damage - Marc Cerasini [93]
"And you're Ibrahim Noor, alias Travis Bell," she replied evenly. "Counterfeit holy man, full-time felon, and total wack job."
A youth lashed out, plunged the toe of his boot into her abdomen. Judith grunted, felt the world recede again. She fought to stay conscious, and by some miracle prevailed.
"Don't be so tough on Rachel Delgado," Judith gasped, tasting bile. "Someone killed her first."
The punk moved to kick her again. Noor stopped him with a gesture. Foy spit on the kicker's leg.
Judith should have been afraid, but she wasn't. Instead, she was filled with an all-consuming fury, a savage hatred. She would have given her soul to kill Noor right now, tear out his throat with her teeth.
"We all thought you were a religious fanatic, but you're not, are you, Travis?" Foy challenged. "You're just a street punk with delusions of grandeur, using people like pawns because they're too stupid to know better."
Noor didn't prevent the youth from kicking her this time. Judith howled in agony when she felt a bruised rib snap. "Tough...tough guys," she gasped. "Beat up on a... helpless woman."
"Did CTU send you?" Noor demanded.
"Actually... It was the neighborhood cleanup committee," Foy replied, fighting the urge to throw up. "This place... is such a pigsty... You really should clean it up."
The youth kicked out again. This time she managed to protect her vitals with her elbows. Her left arm felt paralyzed now, but at least her bruised ribs were still intact.
"If CTU sent you, they made a tragic blunder," Noor continued. "You have delivered the one tool I need to bring America to its knees."
"A boombox blasting hip-hop?"
She waited for a fourth kick, but it never came. Instead a newcomer approached Noor. "Kabbibi is finished," he whispered.
A smile tugged at Noor's lips, then he faced the others. "It is time for me to go, my friends. When next we meet, it will be in Paradise."
The men lined up to receive Noor's final blessings, completely ignoring the woman on the ground. Foy used the time to gather her strength, examine her environment.
She saw a red steel door at one end of the windowless room and realized she was inside 1313 Crampton Street, Noor's gang headquarters.
The sewer must connect this place with the old Peralta Storage facility at the end of the block.
Meanwhile Noor waved his men back. "Give me thirty minutes to get clear of this place. After that, you may release yourselves from this world of corruption."
"Allahu akbar! Allahu akbar!" the men chanted.
Flanked by two bodyguards, Noor walked to the hole in the concrete wall and climbed through it.
As soon as their leader was gone, the room exploded with activity. Someone produced jerricans filled with gasoline. Muttering prayers — and still ignoring Judith Foy — the men began dousing the walls, the floor, the dead men in the corner, with the flammable liquid.
* * *
5:42:13 A.M. EDT
Over Newark, New Jersey
"This is Raptor One. ETA, two minutes," Captain Fogarty said into Jack Bauer's headset.
Jack, now clad in a black CTU battle suit with Kevlar chest, shoulder, and spine plates, faced the five assault troopers inside the helicopter's bay. He spoke into the headset in his helmet.
"As soon as we fast-rope down to the street, I want you to hit the warehouse. Blow the garage door and we'll move in," he said.
"The team in Raptor Two will hit 1313 Crampton on the opposite end of the block," Jack continued. "Agent Abernathy's team in Raptor Three will remain airborne, ready to provide backup if needed. Any questions?"
Grim-faced, the men shook their heads.
"Move fast and hit hard," Jack advised. "We may be dealing with a biological or chemical weapon, so capture and containment is key."
"One minute," Fogarty warned.
Jack lowered his visor and shouldered