Operation Hell Gate - Marc Cerasini [52]
The chubby mugger was pulling hard, but Liam surprised him. Instead of tugging back harder, he pushed the case forward, thrusting it into the git's round face. With a crack the case smashed the kid's nose and cheek. He stumbled backward and released the attache, then doubled over howling and groping his battered face with both hands.
Liam turned to flee, but a movement caught the corner of his eye. Something flashed close to his head, then connected with his upper arm. He stumbled under the impact. His arm went limp and the case clattered to the concrete.
One of the skinny kids stood over him with a nightstick while the other rushed forward to pick up the case. But the stupid plonker approached it too fast, kicking it forward.
"Shit..."
Time stopped as they all watched the case slide over the edge of the platform. The git with the nightstick swung it again. This time Liam saw it coming and dodged the blow. Sensation was coming back to his left arm along with throbbing pain. But Liam swung out with his good arm, determined to drive off his attacker.
The plump kid with the battered face was kneeling on the platform now, coughing. A stream of blood flowed from his nose and he cried out in alarm at the sight of it. The wanker who'd kicked the case glanced back to check on his friend, then freaked when he saw the blood.
"Shit..." he yelled again.
The git with the nightstick stared at the place where the attache case plunged over the side. He took a half step in that direction when they all felt a breeze, heard a distant roar. A Brooklyn-bound train was coming, rolling along on the very same tracks where the case had fallen...
* * *
5:45:13 A.M. EDT
CTU Headquarters, Los Angeles
"Hey, that code sequence doesn't make any sense." Milo gestured toward the sequential stream of letters and numbers on the screen.
Doris stopped typing. "You're reading it from left to right. It's Korean. Read it backward."
Milo sat back. "Yeah, that's right. You said that before."
"Uh-huh," Doris replied, her fingers again tapping the keyboard.
"Why does Frankenstein..."
"Frankie."
"Why does your program depend on such old protocols?" Milo asked.
"Lots of reasons. North Korean programmers aren't always up to speed and they build their programs on top of preexisting computer models. Most of them are pretty old."
"Oh."
"And Frankie is pretty old, too. I started building him when I was in junior high school."
"What? Last week."
Doris paused, pushed up her oversized glasses. "Ha-ha. You're a real laugh riot."
She shook her head and went back to work. Milo Pressman was supposed to be helping her, but all he was doing was asking questions — when he wasn't arguing with his girlfriend. Frankly Doris didn't know what was worse, Milo's stupid questions or the stupid one-sided conversations with his stupid girlfriend he'd been having all night.
Suddenly the workspace reverberated with the theme from the movie Titanic. Ugh, thought Doris. Tina's land line again. At least Milo had programmed Green Day to ring when his girlfriend called on her cell. But for the last few hours Doris had been subjected to that nauseatingly insipid "Sad Boat" song. She rolled her eyes as Milo flipped open his phone.
"Tina? I can't believe you're still awake?.. What do you mean you're crying...Of course I didn't hang up on you. I told you what happened..."
Doris tried to block out the conversation, focus on the stream of data she had just managed to separate from the rest of the memory bits. This one looked promising.
"Don't cry, Tina... I can't stand it when you cry."
Doris pretended to gag, then silently mimicked Milo's and Tina's insufferable conversation. Something happened on her monitor, and Doris stared at the screen.
"A time code? What's a time code doing in here?"
"What?" said Milo, suddenly interested.
"I found a time code — date specific, too. It's in the heart of the program. The start time is twelve hours ago. The time code runs out — well, let me see..."
Milo leaned forward, to gaze