Operation Hell Gate - Marc Cerasini [40]
"Excuse me. I found something I think is important." Doris stepped forward and handed a printout to Nina, who glanced at it, then passed it to Milo and Jamey.
"There's a second layer of inscription that was buried inside the memory stick software."
Milo tapped a pen to his nose. "A watermark? Maybe a manufacturer's protocol?"
Doris shook her head. "This is a real program, and a big one. It's buried deeper and guarded better than the primary program data, which makes me think the whole first layer was a ruse, that the real important information is encrypted somewhere inside this buried code."
"Encrypted?" said Nina. "You mean you haven't cracked it yet?"
Doris brimmed with confidence. "Not yet, but Frankie's working on it, so it's only a matter of time."
Milo blinked. "Who's Frankie?"
* * *
2:55:30 A.M. EDT
Woodside, Queens
Liam stood on the raised platform, four stories over Roosevelt Avenue. A cool, humid breeze wafted in from the ocean, cutting the heat of the day. With a groan of impatience, he glanced at the cheap plastic watch on his arm.
It was nearly 3 A.M. He'd been waiting close to an hour for a subway. He knew service was bad late at night, especially on a weekday. But this was ridiculous. Only three trains had come in the time he'd been waiting. Two local trains going in the opposite direction, and a maintenance train that rolled right through the station without stopping.
He decided to wait another ten minutes. If it didn't come, he'd call it quits and hike the ten blocks over to Northern Boulevard, where he could pick up an R train.
Liam peered down the tracks to the next station in the distance. Lights had appeared — another train at last. He set the attache case down and rubbed the sweat off his hands. Lifting the silver case again, he wondered only briefly what was inside. Whatever it was, it didn't weigh very much. The most important thing, to Liam's way of thinking, was that taking this case to Brooklyn meant three hundred in cash.
Liam leaned over the edge of the open platform and peered down the track. The lights were approaching. Liam could clearly make out the purple circle with a seven emblazoned in the middle. In less than a minute he could sit down and rest as the train carried him to Times Square station.
When Liam finally boarded the Number 7 train, a cherry-red Mustang rolled directly beneath him. Behind the wheel, Jack Bauer cased the stretch of Roosevelt Avenue that ran under the elevated platform, then pulled into a parking spot directly in front of The Last Celt.
7
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 3 A.M. AND 4 A.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
3:02:49 A.M. EDT
CTU Headquarters, Los Angeles
The meeting broke up soon after Doris interrupted it. Jamey hurried back to her workstation. The printout on Dante Arete's SUV was lying on her desk, right out in the open — a clear violation of protocol. She snatched it up and stuffed it into the blue "classified" folder.
"Jamey?"
She jumped at the call, whirled to find Nina Myers standing over her. "Yes?" Jamey replied, in a tone that revealed her alarm.
"Are you all right?"
Jamey nodded quickly. "Just a little tired."
"We all are," said Nina, stepping forward. "But that doesn't excuse sloppy performance of a critical task."
"I don't..."
"The license trace on Arete's SUV," said Nina in a clipped tone. "I need the information now. I'm going to debrief Ryan."
Jamey yanked the document out of the blue folder, thrust it at Nina. She took the printout and scanned it. "The white SUV is registered to a Wexler Business Storage Company on Houston Street in Manhattan..."
Jamey nodded. "It has not been reported stolen. But that may change once the place opens up and someone notices the SUV is missing."
Nina looked up. "What do we know about Wexler Business Storage?"
"Nothing yet," Jamey replied. "I was about to run a check on the company, access their tax records, when the Crisis Team meeting was called."
Nina dropped