Operation Hell Gate - Marc Cerasini [76]
"Is there any other way to gain access to this information?" Ryan asked. "Any suggestions, Jamey? Nina?"
"Withholding information is nothing new," Nina replied. "The wall this Administration and the Attorney General's office erected between the intelligence agencies is too high for CTU to climb. And with Jack Bauer under suspicion, nobody is willing to cut us any slack."
"I'll take that as a no," Ryan said. "Therefore I'm going to authorize this mission. When can you go?"
Tony rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Some software protocols will need to be established..."
"We can go right now," said Jessica. "Who's the FBI Bureau Chief in Los Angeles?"
"His name is Jeffrey Dodge. I met him at an interagency conference three months ago. Middle-aged, recently divorced."
Jessica nodded. "Good, I can exploit that."
The meeting broke up minutes later. Tony fell into step with the Captain. "You're right. We do need the information the FBI is keeping from us. But you poured it on a little thick back there. This isn't the Corps. We can't just charge into every situation and hope for the best. Stop thinking like a Marine all the time."
Jessica's eyes flashed cold. "Maybe you should start thinking like a Marine again, Agent Almeida. You might get better results."
* * *
11:59:34 A.M. EDT
Boulevard Diner, Forest Hills, Queens
Liam hung up the receiver, heard the quarter rattle in the return slot. He pocketed the coin and headed back to the counter. Following Shamus's instructions, he'd gone directly to the Lynch brothers' store on Queens Boulevard, only to find the place mysteriously closed.
He hung around for a while, then decided to cross ten lanes of Queens Boulevard to a local diner. The place was jammed with a lunchtime crowd, so he grabbed a seat at the booth and ordered a burger and chips. He left his jacket on the seat and took the attache case to the pay phone. The steel case was starting to feel like a ball and chain.
First he dialed the number for the Lynch brothers' store, got the electronic message giving business hours and directions. Next he dialed The Last Celt, looking for his sister. Strangely, no one answered the phone there, either. But Donnie Murphy should have been there; he was as punctual as the sun when it came to running the pub, and he was always there before nine o'clock to accept deliveries and such.
Liam hung up the phone and carried the case back to the counter. His food was waiting for him, but he'd lost his appetite. He just couldn't shake the feeling that trouble was heading his way.
16
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 12 P.M. AND 1 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
12:00:00 P.M. EDT
Penn Station, New York City
The Acela had rolled into New York's Penn Station at 11:57 A.M., four minutes ahead of schedule. Exiting onto the cavernous underground platform, Special Agent Carlos Ferrer shifted his heavy suitcase, followed the tide of passengers to the escalator and up to Penn Station's main concourse.
When Ferrer departed Washington that morning, he had been told that CTU Los Angeles had not made contact with Jack Bauer in more than four hours. Reestablishing communication was Ferrer's first priority. He paused under the massive hanging sign that displayed arrival and departure times and track numbers of trains with names like the Yankee Clipper, the Metroliner, the Pennsylvanian, and the Washington-ian. Agent Ferrer doubted that finding Bauer would be as easy as making a phone call, but he had to give itashot.
Unfortunately he could not acquire a signal — probably because he was beneath massive Madison Square