Operation Hell Gate - Marc Cerasini [94]
Nina frowned. "Face reality, Ryan. Without local resources, what choice did we have?"
"We're at fifty-nine seconds," Jamey Farrell announced.
Ryan stared at the huge screen as he spoke into a headset. "All CTU tactical units report. Is everyone in position?"
"Boston, ready," said Milo Pressman from a workstation. On his screen he watched a grid map of Logan Airport, where a blinking blip represented the CTU tactical team lying in ambush for the terrorists to arrive.
"D.C., ready," said a red-eyed Cindy Carlisle, the only survivor from Cyber Unit Team Alpha.
"O'Hare, ready," said Jamey Farrell.
"New York City, ready," said Doris. "Georgi says his teams are in place at both airports."
"LAX, ready," said the voice of Tony Almeida, speaking from the ambush site at the airport.
"Ten seconds," said Nina. "Nine... eight..."
"I see activity on the service road," said Jamey. "Positive contact at O'Hare..."
"Six...five..."
"Contact at JFK," Doris cried. "I hear gunfire."
On the HDTV screen, the satellite captured real-time images — flashes of gunfire, moving cars, an explosion. Eerily, there was no sound.
"Three... two..."
"Gunfire at Logan. The tactical team is already moving," yelled Milo.
"Zero..."
21
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 5 P.M. AND 6 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
5:00:06 P.M. EDT
Los Angeles International Airport
A voice crackled over Tony Almeida's headset. "We have contact. Two black Ford Explorers, coming in from the south. You should be able to see them in thirty seconds."
"Jamming?" Tony asked.
"Since they entered the perimeter their cell phones and radios have been jammed," the voice replied. "Not that they noticed."
Tony lowered the binoculars and stepped back into hiding.
"I see them on the service road," he said softly.
Tony stood with Captain Schneider and a member of Blackburn's tactical assault team between two empty shipping containers the size of semitrucks. Other members of the CTU tactical team were also hidden — behind a cluster of aircraft signal lights, in a storm drain under the runway, inside a small concrete utility building. All wore black overalls and thick body armor and were heavily armed. Jessica Schneider's left arm was in a sling, wrapped tightly against her chest.
Captain Schneider squinted at the tiny screen on the PDA in her hand. "They're moving into position next to runway six, right where the data from the memory stick said they'd go."
"Get ready. We move as soon as they exit the vehicles. I want snipers to take out the drivers so no one gets away," Tony commanded.
"Roger," said Blackburn from inside the concrete building.
"Ready to go," said Special Agent Rosetti from his hiding place under the runway.
"Snipers in position, aiming at targets," reported the men at the signal lights.
Tony glanced at Captain Schneider. Under the harsh Southern California sun, her face was pale and drawn. Sweat beaded her upper lip, which trembled slightly. "Ready?" he asked.
"Maybe I should sit this one out," Jessica replied. "My arm..."
Tony grasped the problem immediately. Captain Schneider was gun-shy. Not frightened, exactly. Just rattled. She'd been wounded. Now she held back, hesitated to get back into the saddle.
"Come on," Tony said with a smile. "I brought you all the way to the ball. The least you can do is dance."
Jessica smiled back at him, and Tony saw some of her old spirit return. "You do go on, Special Agent Almeida. Why, I think you could turn a girl's head."
Tony fixed her with his gaze. "Don't go soft on me now, Captain. I was just starting to get back that old semper fi spirit. Anyway, you could take down these cholos with one hand tied behind your back."
Captain Schneider grinned. "Well, if you put it like that..."
Her voice trailed off as she drew her Marine-issue .45. Tony peered out from between the two metal containers. The terrorists for hire — members of the Manolos, a Mexican street gang Dante Arete recruited out of South Central — had exited their vehicles and were setting up the missile launcher.