The Terror Business
As he drove through LA traffic, Jack wondered again why he was doing this. He still felt betrayed, used and abused. He was not a man to hold a grudge by nature, but his whole life had been destroyed. Everything he'd done, everything he'd worked for had been twisted in that courtroom. Jack's whole career of tremendous sacrifice and accomplishment had been turned against him, as they made him out to be a vicious killer without a conscience. He'd almost died in prison.
Jack caught a glimpse of himself in his rearview mirror. The pouches under his eyes were bigger, there were crow's feet at the corners now. There was a definite downturn to his mouth, giving him what looked like a permanent scowl. He looked like a man who had been in prison, bitter, even though he'd been out for awhile now.
As he ran his hand through his short hair, he reflected on how he had come to be where he was. Instead of an agent working to help his country, he was now an ex-con, without a security clearance, in a line of work where he was advising on security. What a laugh! But those in the know, the people behind the multinationals, knew that Jack's advice was still invaluable. He knew how terrorists worked, almost how they thought. They knew they needed him.
Jack was tired of being needed. CTU, over and over again, had disrupted his life, and caused him immeasurable pain. He'd given it everything he had, and it was never enough.
The traffic was terrible. He'd told Hammond, finally, that he'd be there in an hour, but it was taking significantly longer. He mused, ruefully, that when he'd been with CTU he'd never seemed to have a problem with traffic, but now, when time was less crucial, he could sit in it for what seemed like hours. Maybe now he just had more time to think.
.
Chapter 1
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose as he looked out of the window of his office, trying to imagine what Barbara was doing now. Just a few more hours and they would be together. She was in his thoughts so much these days, and he finally acknowledged to himself that he hoped she always would be.
He shook off his reverie as the ringing of the phone slowly penetrated. He seemed to be having trouble concentrating these days. For some reason the phone sounded different. He looked at it with that thought, knowing it was strange, but not knowing why. Of course the telephone rang, that was the point. But there was something about this call. After Moscow, he was expecting trouble.
His secretary, Susan, answered it on the third ring. She buzzed Jack, and told him, "It's someone named Hammond. He says it's urgent."
"Dammit," Jack said to himself. Without realizing it, he rubbed the space under his nose, a habit of his. Why should he take this call? But reluctantly, resignedly, he picked up the phone. "Yes, Brad."
"Hello, Jack, how are you?" he heard Hammond say.
Jack replied impatiently. "I'm fine, Brad. You didn't call to ask how I am. What is it?"
Jack realized he was being uncharacteristically rude, but it didn't matter. It was eight months since Jack had been released from prison, four since he'd opened his own security firm, which was now beginning to take off. He consulted with multinational companies, advising them how to protect their employees while they worked overseas. Despite his past, they valued his expertise. The last thing he needed, or wanted, was contact with CTU.
Jack kept looking out the window as he waited during the pause that followed, unwilling to further the conversation. He saw the stream of cars flow by the office towers. Finally, Hammond said, "Look, I know you left CTU..." Jack interrupted, "Yes, Brad, I left CTU. What is it?"
Again there was a pause. Hammond knew what the effect would be of what he was about to say. "We have a problem, Jack. We need you."
"What part of 'I left CTU' don't you get, Brad?" Jack said, not caring at all how rude he was.
"Jack, I wouldn't call you if it wasn't a crisis. You know that," Hammond replied, knowing it sounded lame. "But the stakes are incredibly high."
"Brad..." Jack began. This time it was Hammond who did the interrupting. "Do you want to see the end of the world, Jack? Armageddon?"
He was taken aback, but he responded, "Cut the melodrama, Brad. Cut the crp."
"It's not melodrama, Jack. That's why I need you to listen."
This time it was Jack who paused, and he let Hammond continue. Jack knew he'd regret it.
"There's another plot, Jack, two more dirty bombs, and they're threatening to detonate them. Just like Moscow. We haven't been able to get a handle on it, not yet, anyway. And now the target's New York. And London." Hammond hoped he'd gotten it out quickly enough so Jack wouldn't hang up.
Jack closed his eyes. He'd already dealt with a nuclear threat in the US. He knew he couldn't do it again.
"Brad, you have other agents, men who are younger than I am, who are trained to deal with this."
"Yeah, Jack, I know I have other agents. But truthfully? None of them is as good as you are." He was stroking him, handling him.
Jack had heard enough. "Maybe as good as I once was, Brad, but not what I am now." Jack felt the words sting as he said them, but he knew they were true. He had his pride, and a man as driven as Jack was had trouble dealing with limitations, after all. But it still hurt.
"Do you remember what happened when I returned to CTU, after the Palmer assassination attempt? You know what I accomplished, with the bomb, and then the virus. I returned to CTU once, Brad, and you know what good it did me. I was prosecuted for the Salazar mess. You know damn well I only did what I had to do, to stop the virus. And now you expect me to come back?"
Hammond tried again. "Look, Jack, we're desperate. The plot is real. We know what these guys are capable of, they've killed thousands already. It would have been a lot more if the rain in Moscow hadn't kept down the radiation. You want that on your conscience?" he asked, knowing, hoping, Jack would rise to the bait. Two things Jack had, Hammond knew, were an astounding sense of responsibility, and an even more astounding ability to blame himself, seemingly for everything. Jack still blamed himself for Teri's death, and that had been what, six years ago? Seven? And he'd never gotten over what he'd done, what he'd had to do, first to Chappelle, and then to Chase. Even though Jack knew that he'd acted to save Chase's life, he could only see the maimed result, and images of Chappelle's dead body still clouded his dreams.
That was part of why Jack hadn't really fought the criminal charges, at least not at first. But he'd been furious when he couldn't attend Kim and Chase's wedding, and when he learned that he was to be a grandfather, the thought of not being with his family overwhelmed even his sense of guilt. Brad knew Jack had gotten a new lawyer, who'd managed to get the case against him thrown out, after Jack spent 10 torturous months in prison. Hammond had heard that Jack had had a terrible time "inside." He felt guilty that he'd never tried to contact Jack after his release, realizing for the first time that even though they'd never been friends he liked to think there'd been a mutual respect between them, and he owed Jack for all he'd done. Jack's actions had advanced Hammond's career, had made him look good by getting the results when they were desperately needed. Time after time. Hammond knew Jack hated him now, of course, and he realized with a start that he really didn't blame him. Hammond had done nothing to help Jack when he was on trial, nothing to try to get his sentence reduced. He'd turned his back on Jack, just as everyone at CTU had done. How could he be asking him to turn his life upside down, again, and come to the rescue? He'd heard that Jack was dating his lawyer. Did that mean Jack was finally over Teri? Was he finally putting his life back together? Could he really ask him to put everything on the line, again? But he had to. He knew how high the stakes were.
Hammond decided to try a different tack. He knew he wasn't playing fair, but he was desperate. "Jack," he said, "not only will millions die. The life your grandson should have won't happen if there's a nuclear holocaust."
Again Jack paused. "Brad, a holocaust? From a dirty bomb in New York?" As he said it, Jack realized how it sounded, as though a nuclear bomb in New York wasn't important. He tried again. "Brad, CTU has agents all over, and an office in New York bigger than LA's. I don't even know the area."
Hammond was ready for that one. "That doesn't matter. We've got plenty of people who do. Jack, we need you. There's no one else. You're the best we've got."
As he drove to CTU, Jack's thoughts returned to the night before. He knew he should be thinking about his conversation with Hammond, but he couldn't help himself. It had been a wonderful night. He and Barbara had made love, slowly, languidly, enjoying each other's pleasure as well as their own. Afterwards, they lay sleepily in each others arms. They both knew this was something special.
Jack woke first the next morning, realizing that for the first time since Teri's death he didn't feel guilty about being with a woman. He knew it was more than the passage of time – it was Barbara.
They'd met when Jack was in prison, and he'd asked a lawyer friend to recommend someone who could help him with his case. Barbara had come to see him, and sat across from him in the lawyer's room. She had read the record of his trial. "Jack, your trial was nothing more than a travesty. The government denied you the opportunity to call witnesses on your behalf. The judge wouldn't even let you subpoena anyone from CTU. You had a right to question those witnesses, and they denied you that right. I hate to say this, but it looks like they were out to get you. They must have thought you had something on them, something bad you'd reveal unless they put you away."
Jack considered this. He'd been thinking along these lines himself, but he could never figure out what it was that the government - the government he'd worked all his adult life to protect - was so desperate to hide. And what information did he have that they wanted to suppress? But what else would explain Palmer's refusal to pardon Jack for his part in the prison riot? Palmer knew that it had been necessary to break Ramon out of jail, that it had led to the result they demanded of Jack: the containment of the Cordilla virus, and the prevention of millions of deaths.
Palmer's refusal to pardon Jack was all the more outrageous because he had pardoned Tony Almeida for interfering with, even impeding, the search for Stephen Saunders. Tony had been part of the plan with Jack and Gael to use the Salazars to get a hold of the virus. Gael was dead, he'd died from the virus, but Tony had acted against CTU. He'd put Michelle's life ahead of public safety, and still Palmer set him free. Jack didn't begrudge Tony his pardon, but he couldn't understand why he'd been treated differently, especially by a man who'd said how much he appreciated everything Jack had done for his country, and who'd even said he wanted to become Jack's friend.
Barbara had agreed to represent him. She was a superb lawyer, well-known in the legal community. Barbara had handled some major cases, and she'd developed quite a reputation as one of the best in her profession. She went straight to work, and raised so many questions about his trial, and the evidence against him, that the case was thrown out. For some unknown reason, the government decided not to try him again. He didn't have to serve a 12 year sentence. He was set free, after so many months, not knowing who had tried to destroy him, or why.
Barbara had picked him up on the day he was released, and taken him directly to Kim's. She had left right away, not wanting to interfere with the family reunion. But he'd called her after a few weeks, to thank her, and wound up asking her to dinner. Despite all the horrible times, the unspeakable months in prison, he'd found that she could make him smile. He wasn't ready to laugh yet, but even just smiling felt good. They'd continued to see each other, and eventually they'd become lovers. He smiled a lot more now, and he was learning to laugh again, because of her.
Jack forced himself to focus on what Hammond's call meant. Was he really willing to get involved again? He remembered when he'd returned to CTU once before, after Teri's death, when he'd been away from everything and everyone for over a year. He'd been reluctant to go back then, too, but he'd found the bomb, and saved the day. But had they considered that when they put him in jail? Had they even looked at his record, accomplishing every mission they'd given him?
He knew Operation Nightfall didn't count; it had been set up to fail. Jack was still bitter about the deaths of his men. He'd never been able to find out who was responsible, but he hoped they'd burn in hell. How was he supposed to trust these people, who were asking him to risk everything again? They'd betrayed him over and over, by not protecting Teri, by putting Kim at risk, by not giving a damn about him. What if this was a set-up? Jack thought he was being paranoid, but was he? Just because you're paranoid they could still be out to get you.
Reluctantly, Jack reached for his ever-present cellphone. When she answered, he said, "Barb, I have to cancel tonight." She wasn't surprised, but she was concerned. He'd been late several times for their dates, even cancelled a few times. But she heard something in his voice.
"Jack, are you all right?"
"Yeah, honey, something's come up. I've gotta work."
Barbara realized that in Jack's line of work, it was inevitable that something would come up. But she still sensed something was wrong.
"I really want to be with you. Why don't you come by when you finish up, and I'll cook dinner. If you're late, you've got your key. I want to wake up with you in the morning."
He realized tenderly how important Barbara had become in his life. It had happened slowly, as he first learned to trust her professionally as his lawyer, and then personally, as a woman. She was essential to his life now, and he knew it. But now was not the time.
"I'll see you later, then," he said. "I'll try to be there before breakfast.
The Terror Business - Chapter 2
He finally reached CTU, but paused before he got out of his Jeep. What the hell am I doing here, he asked himself, again. He didn't know the answer, but he climbed out anyway, and headed for the entrance.
Hammond had obviously told security to expect him. After checking his driver's license picture and his electronic thumbprint they issued him a visitor's pass and buzzed him through the door. They must still have my print on file, Jack thought as he walked in. I wonder why?
As he walked inside, he noticed the changes they'd made. The place was noticeably bigger, and there were far more people working there. Obviously, the terror business had grown.
"Mr. Bauer?" a short blonde woman walked over to him. "I'm Rachel. I'll take you to Mr. Hammond."
"Thank you," Jack replied automatically, still looking around. The whole floor was more crowded, with more workstations, more computer screens, more wall displays. But there didn't seem to be any obvious demarcation between the bullpen areas. When he'd worked here last, the entire upper floor had been reconfigured for electronics, and comm and ops had shared the floor. Maybe they don't divide comm and ops any more, he thought to himself. Or maybe communications just got that much bigger, and they'd moved ops somewhere else. He was momentarily curious, but that passed, as he realized it didn't matter to him any longer.
All the people he passed seemed to know Jack, but many were strangers to him. There was a hush as he walked by, with people staring at the once-great agent, the superman of CTU who had fallen, plummeted, from grace. Jack, the once fair-haired boy – that was a laugh, he thought, considering the gray now intermixed with the blonde on his head. I'm not fair-haired any more, in either way.
Rachel led Jack to the stairs going up to Jack's old office. At least that hadn't changed, he thought. It was still the position of power at CTU. But why had the Division chief moved his office to CTU? Or had Hammond been demoted somehow? Jack knew that the head of the CTU office was way down in the pecking order of District and Division. Again, he told himself it didn't matter to him anymore.
As Jack climbed the stairs he saw Tony Almeida watching him from below. Tony gave him a discreet wave. Jack nodded, barely perceptibly. It wasn't Tony's fault, he knew, but still it hurt that Tony had been pardoned, while Jack had become a convicted felon.
"Jack!" Hammond greeted him at the top of the stairs. "Thanks for coming."
"I still don't know why I'm here, Brad," Jack said, thinking that Hammond had put on considerable weight since he'd last seen him. Obviously Hammond still wasn't going out into the field, he wasn't getting his hands dirty as the people doing the real work of CTU were doing every day.
"Come in and we'll talk about it. Do you want some coffee?" Hammond replied.
"No, Brad, I don't want any coffee," Jack said impatiently. "I'll hear you out, and then I'm going."
"Okay, Jack, sit down and we'll talk," Hammond said, realizing that pleasantries weren't going to work.
As Jack entered his old office, he saw that the configuration was the same. There were pictures of Hammond's family on the desk, so Jack knew he was right, this was Hammond's office. He wasn't just using someone else's for this meeting. He wondered again why the Division Director had moved to CTU, but he put the thought out of his mind. He didn't know, and he didn't care.
"Have a seat," Hammond said, indicating the sofa, a formal leather couch of the kind you'd see in a mansion's paneled library. Obviously they'd increased the decorating budget. That's just like CTU, Jack thought. Spending money, which was always tight, in the wrong places.
"Jack," Hammond said, as Jack sat down on the edge of the couch, "I wasn't exaggerating when I told you we're facing a grave crisis."
"What other type of crisis is there?" Jack asked crossly. "Every crisis is a grave crisis, Brad. Especially at CTU."
"All right, Jack, I'll cut the hyperbole," he was told in reply. "The same people who detonated the bomb in Moscow have threatened New York and London now."
"Why is that L.A.'s problem?" Jack asked. "I'm sure you're gathering all the intel you can, and feeding it to New York and MI-6, so why'd you call me?"
"Jack, I already told you," Hammond started to say impatiently, and then caught himself. Jack would have to be coaxed, not pressured. That would never work. "The people in New York are overwhelmed. They don't know how to proceed. The people at Langley don't know what to do. The problem this time is there's too much intel. The only thing they're sure of is that they don't know what's real, and what's deliberate disinformation. They're practically running around in circles, and we're running out of time.
"That's the job of analysts, Brad. You know that. That's not what I do. That's not what I did," he corrected himself. "Get yourself better analysts," he said, rising from the couch.
"Jack, you have the best instincts of anyone I've ever known," said Hammond. "You know how to cut through the crp, you know how to follow the trail without being caught in dead ends. That's what we need now."
Jack was standing now, ready to leave. "You can stroke me all you want, Brad. But I won't be handled. You know that, or you should by now. My career at CTU is over. Period. I'm not coming back."
"Jack," Brad said, realizing he started every sentence that way. He had to make this personal. "At least look at the data, see the sort of intel we're dealing with, and help us wade through it. I'm not asking you to go into the field. I'm just asking you to sit with us, and try to sort this stuff out," Hammond said, cajolingly. "Just this once."
Jack felt himself start to weaken. They weren't asking him to become an agent again, at least not the type of agent he'd been before. They weren't asking him to go out and risk life and limb. More importantly, they weren't trying to put him in the position where he'd have to make life-or-death decisions, which he knew all too well had resulted in death in the past.
Jack mentally shook himself as he realized what he'd been thinking. It was just too much. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought, remembering an old saying of his mother's. Even working as an analyst, on a temporary assignment, was more than he could risk. Jack knew he'd been betrayed, that he was still bitter about all they'd done to him. He couldn't let himself be sucked back into the vortex that was CTU. God only knew what they'd do to him when it was over. Even success at his missions hadn't protected him.
Jack thought of his grandson, Robby. Jack couldn't bear to be parted from him, or Kim, again. Or from Barbara, he realized. He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't survive another attempt by the government to destroy him. And he knew that it was the government, his government, that had tried to kill him. Why else had they put him in a maximum-security prison, where all the inmates knew who he was, who he had been? All of the inmates had wanted a shot at him, to show how tough they were, and all of them believed they were the toughest, except for this government agent. They all hated government agents, who they blamed for all of their troubles. It didn't matter that Jack had worked to stop terrorists. Half of the inmates admired the terrorists, for how tough and smart they were. To a man, these murderers wanted to take down the guy they knew had killed more people than any of them had ever done. Many of them had tried, and Jack had paid a terrible price for their efforts. He still bore the scars.
"...almost in position, Jack." Hammond was still talking, Jack realized. "We know we don't have much time. Maybe a day, if we're lucky."
That really got Jack's attention. Another 24 hours? He was too old for this, he reminded himself. He remembered all too well the other missions, the 24-hour ones, that had ended in so much pain for him, and for those he loved. No way, he thought. No way.
"If a bomb goes off in New York, or anywhere in the US, for that matter, we'll have to respond, with nukes. The Brits will react the same if London is bombed. We'd end up destroying most of the Middle East. They'd retaliate, and we know most of those countries have weapons of mass destruction. Even if they don't have missiles, they'd find a way to bomb us again. And it would just keep going on, until the whole world was involved, and devastated. Surely that can't be what you want for your grandson, Jack."
This was the second time Hammond had mentioned Robby. Jack knew Hammond was playing to his soft spot, and he resented it. But he recognized the logic of what Hammond was saying, and it started to get to him. How could he not help when so much was on the line? How could he ever forgive himself if something happened to Barbara, or to Kim, or to Robby? He realized the order in which he'd thought of them, and wasn't surprised. Barbara was rooted in his being now, he loved her, and he knew that he wanted to tell her. What surprised him was how distracted he was while Hammond was talking, but he knew that that was just another reason why he couldn't give in. It just wasn't in his blood anymore. He couldn't weaken.
He started to tell Hammond this. "Brad, I just can't do it. I just don't have what it takes anymore."
Hammond was becoming impatient. "We're not asking you to do ops, Jack. We're just asking you to use your mind. I'm not going to appeal to your sense of loyalty, or to say it's your duty. I know what you've been through. You got a raw deal. I should have been there for you. All of CTU should have been there for you. We all let you down. But don't let that stop you from helping now. I know I'm trying to handle you, but I don't know how else to put it. If you won't do this for your country, at least do it for your family."
Jack's resolve melted. He couldn't ignore the safety of his family. No matter what happened to him, he could never sacrifice, or jeopardize, their safety. If there was anything he could do to protect his family, he would do it. That was Jack.
"All right, Brad, I'll look at the intel. But that's all I'll do," Jack said with obvious reluctance. "Where do you want me to start?"
"I'll set you up with Tony. He's been the point man on this, but frankly he's in over his head. I wouldn't be surprised to see him actually throw up his hands in frustration. That's where we need you, Jack. You've got to review what Tony's looked at, see what he's missed. We know there's something there. We just can't figure out what it is."
Hammond led Jack down the stairs, to Tony. He said to Tony, "You'll be working with Jack to sort out the intel. I'm sorry, Tony, but you need help with this. There's just too much information for you to sort through. You know that New York and Langley are working at cross-purposes, and no one knows what anyone else is doing. The Brits don't seem to be going in the same direction we are. I want Jack to work with you to coordinate the intel, so you can make sense of it and put it together. Look at every piece of intel, every thread. Figure out what's real, and then we'll pass it on to New York and London piece by piece, so they can use it. Otherwise they won't even know what they've got."
"Okay, Brad," Tony said. He turned to Jack, and held out his hand for a more formal greeting. "It's good to see you, Jack. We'll work in Tech 1."
Jack shook Tony's hand, wondering why Tony was being so abrupt. Maybe Tony thought Jack resented that Palmer had pardoned him? Tony hadn't been able to bring himself to visit Jack in prison, mostly because he felt guilty that Jack hadn't been pardoned, although he realized that it wasn't his fault. It wasn't like Palmer had had only a limited number of pardons. He could have pardoned Jack as well as Tony. Why he hadn't was a mystery to both men. For the time being, he and Tony would work together, although Jack knew that he would never fit in here again.
Starting Over - Chapter 3
Jack felt uncomfortable as he followed Tony to Tech 1. CTU was so familiar to him, yet foreign at the same time. He knew he didn't belong, and never would again, and yet he had spent virtually all of his working life here. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was making a mistake by coming back, even temporarily. But he had committed himself to helping, and giving his word meant everything to Jack.
As he and Tony entered the room, Jack saw that the equipment had been updated. Jack sat at one work station, and Tony at the next one over. Tony called up the intel they had accumulated on the monitors, and they went to work.
For the next few minutes there was silence as the men reviewed the data, Tony for the third time, and Jack for the first. After a while Jack looked up, and said "I don't see any intel from Moscow. They must have information; they were obviously searching for the bomb that was placed there."
Tony looked at Jack in amazement, until he realized that Jack had no way of knowing. He told him, "Russian intel is gone, Jack. Their building was destroyed in the blast. Whatever intel they had gathered is gone."
Jack was stunned. Russia's entire security apparatus, which had evolved from the KGB, was gone? He knew that the rain had limited the effects of the dirty bomb, had kept the radiation down, so the casualties were far less than they might have been. He also knew that nevertheless there was devastation in part of Moscow, where the bomb had been detonated, but he'd had no idea that Russia's version of the FBI and CIA had been destroyed, and with it all the data they'd amassed.
"How did that happen?" he asked Tony, shocked. "Didn't they download any of their data to anyone else?"
"That's why we're in such trouble," Tony replied. "We're re-inventing the wheel, 'cause we have to try to duplicate whatever information Moscow had gotten. We know that they had tracked the bomb to central Moscow, to a 20-block radius. What they didn't realize until it was too late was that the bomb was on the tracks leading into Moscow Central Station, right under their office. When the bomb went off, it took Russian Intelligence with it. Over 380 of their people died, and all of their computers were destroyed. So we have to start from scratch."
The news sent Jack reeling. The Americans and the Russians shared a lot of intel these days, along with the British. The agents kept their loyalty to their own countries, of course, but they recognized that these days they had a lot of enemies in common, so they shared. It was still very hard for these agents, the Americans and the Brits, to trust the Russians, but Jack knew it was as hard for the Russians to trust them. But each bombing brought an increased feeling that they were all in it together, and the survival of one country might be determined by information gained from the other. So the Russians, as well as MI-6 were very much in the American security loop. Without Moscow's intel, it was no wonder things were so desperate now.
"All right, Tony, bring me up to speed. How do we know there's a bomb in New York?" Jack asked, trying to gather his thoughts.
"The sons of btches who did Moscow sent a message to Langley, directly to Langley, dammit, using one of our own codes. They didn't make any demands, Jack, they just said they'll detonate a dirty bomb in New York just like they did in Moscow. They sent a similar one to London, using a British code. There were no demands, Jack," Tony said again, "no one they want freed, or anything. Nothing we could focus on. And with Russian Intelligence gone, we don't know where to start."
Jack considered this. "There were no demands with Sayed Ali, either, Tony," he pointed out. "It may even be the same bunch of fanatics," he continued, while reminding himself that there were plenty of others out there.
"We thought of that," Tony said impatiently. "But it doesn't fit. None of our agents have picked up any activity from Ali's group, and we've got a good handle on them now. We know where they are, and they've been quiet."
"So tell me what you think. What's your gut saying to you?" Jack asked his former colleague.
"I don't know, Jack. I just don't have a feel for where this is coming from. My gut tells me it's the Middle East, but that's all. And that's obviously not much help," he added lamely.
"What other groups have been active lately? Do we have any satellite shots of training camps that show anything unusual? We've gotten a lot of intel from that in the past," Jack reminded Tony.
Tony just shrugged. "Nothing's come in from the sats that gives us anything useful. All of the camps are just showing normal activity. No special maneuvers, no stepped-up training, nothing."
Jack took a minute to think. "Are we positive this is the Middle East?"
"No," Tony said slowly, surprised by the question. "But who else could be behind it? Who else hates the West so much that they'd nuke our cities?"
It was Jack's turn to be surprised. "I thought we still had a problem with rogue Russians," he said. "They had a lot of nukes available, and I thought they were still selling them. Have you tried tracing backward, to see where the bombs might have come from?"
Tony sighed. "We were waiting for intel from Moscow. They had a lead on an arms buyer who they thought had gotten his hands on some of their bombs, but all the data was lost when their building blew up. It happened before they could transmit the information to us."
"Son of a btch," Jack responded. "There are no survivors from Russian Intelligence?"
"No one who knew anything about this investigation. The building was leveled, Jack. The only people still alive are the ones who had the day off."
"Dammit," was all Jack could reply.
There was silence in the room, as each man pondered the potential destruction facing their country. For the first time Jack understood why Hammond had almost pleaded for him to help.
Finally, Jack said "Let's start with what you've already looked at, Tony. Maybe we can pick up a thread."
Tony started pulling up data on the computers. "Here, Jack. This is the message they sent to Langley."
Jack read from the message on the screen, "Infidels. You have killed our families. You have stolen our riches. For this you must pay."
A shiver ran down Jack's spine. "This doesn't say anything about New York, Tony. What else do we have that names a target?"
"We don't have anything specific, Jack. We think New York's the target because it's our biggest city, and they've attacked it before."
"That doesn't make sense, Tony. Moscow is Russia's capital. London is England's capital. Why couldn't their target just as likely be Washington?"
"The FBI's working on that, Jack. They're searching every government building, with bomb sniffing dogs and robots. They're pretty confident they've got everything protected. But they didn't expect fanatics to fly jumbo jets into the Twin Towers, either, so who knows how secure D.C. is. Langley is sure it's New York. I hope they're not kidding themselves."
"Just because the bomb in Moscow was in the railroad tracks doesn't mean they'll do the same thing here. Have they tightened security at the airports? But come to think of it, Union Station in Washington is right near the capitol. Penn Station in New York would be a hell of a target, with Madison Square Garden right above it. All those miles of train tracks in dark tunnels. It's a perfect target." Jack was thinking aloud.
"The Bureau and NYPD think so, too. They've got everyone searching the tracks, not just Amtrak but the subways and commuter railroads, too. They've canceled the Knicks game at the Garden, but how long can they keep this up? We suspect the attack is imminent, but what if it's not? The public is going to figure out what's going on, and there'll be mass panic in New York soon. And it's bound to spread to other cities. They'll accomplish so much madness in this country that it will be almost anticlimactic if a bomb does explode." Tony knew this was a gross overstatement, but he was increasingly frustrated. Jack was supposed to be here to help, not question what everyone else was doing.
That thought caught Tony up short. Of course these questions were helping. To be successful they had to approach this logically. They had to see what valid intel they had in order to find a pattern, a starting point for further investigation. That's why Jack is here, Tony finally realized. He's always had a gut feel for how to follow the clues.
Jack tried another approach. "What intel do you think is disinformation, Tony? What doesn't feel right? Maybe if we can weed that stuff out, we can see what direction they're trying to point us away from. Maybe we can get a lead by looking at the phony data."
Tony hadn't thought of that. "Come to think of it, Jack, some of the stuff I've looked at just doesn't feel right. Everyone's assuming the threat is from the Middle East, but what if it's not? What if the message was sent to make us think the threat was from there, but it's really not?"
"Why send a message at all," Jack wondered aloud. "Did the Russians get a threat before they were bombed?"
"Yes," Tony replied. "The same type of thing, addressed to the "Infidels." I don't think their Intel had a chance to fully analyze the message before the bomb exploded. We know the threat is real. What we don't know is where it's coming from.
"If it's not the Middle East, Tony, who else hates us that much?" Jack asked pensively.
"I don't think it's a home-grown threat, not like Oklahoma City. I'm pretty sure it's not domestic," Tony replied.
"I agree," said Jack. "I don't think any of our domestic terrorist groups would bomb Moscow or London. We have to look overseas for the people behind this."
Tony was silent. Jack suggested, "Let's just go through all of the data, one piece at a time. It's slow, but it's the only way to get a feel for it. Some of it's bound to stand out as phony. Some of it just won't fit. Maybe that will give us something."
Tony didn't appear to be listening. Finally he said, "Look, Jack, I don't know why Palmer didn't pardon you. I feel terrible about it. I let everyone down, and he let me off the hook. You did what you had to do for the mission, and they put you in prison. It doesn't make sense to me. I didn't visit you in jail because I just couldn't face you. That was cowardly and selfish of me, Jack. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."
It was Jack's turn to be silent. Then he said, "Thanks, Tony. I can understand how you felt. I'm glad you were pardoned, but I'm mad as hell at Palmer. I think I got a lousy deal. Thank God Barbara got me out. But I have to say, I can't believe I'm back here. Any minute I expect someone to come in and take me back to prison because I'm trespassing here, or breaking a national security law, or something. Anything to frame me. I have to get out of here, Tony. So thanks, but let's get back to work." Tony didn't see the tightness in Jack's jaw as he said this. He didn't understand the full depth of Jack's bitterness.
Silently, the men worked side by side. It was Tony who stood up straight and exclaimed, "I don't believe this! Why didn't I see it before?"
"What, Tony, what did you find?"
"You may be right, Jack. The threat may not be from the Middle East. There's an Eastern European connection. There's a money trail, going from Zurich to Vienna to Sarajevo, and then to Morocco. They could have routed the money directly to Morocco from Zurich. They've done that in the past. I wonder why they didn't this time," Tony asked, half to himself.
"Sarajevo?" Jack asked in surprise. "Are you sure?"
"No mistake, Jack. But wait, there's more. There's also a trail from Bermuda to Sarajevo, and then to Morocco. Bermuda's British, Jack," Tony reminded him. "And they have bank secrecy laws, like the Cayman Islands. What's going on?"
"That is odd, Tony. The only people who've ever routed funds through Bermuda before were the Serbians, and they didn't go through Sarajevo. They went through Croatia."
"D'ya think maybe there's a Croatian connection here, Jack?" Tony asked.
"I don't understand how the thugs in Croatia could have linked up with the groups in the Middle East, but it's certainly possible, Tony. Can you trace the link back from Bermuda, or past Morocco?"
Tony tapped his keyboard. "Son of a btch," he muttered. "Jack, look at this!"
"What, Tony?" Jack froze as he looked at his monitor. Tony had managed to get inside the Bermuda bank records. The name on the monitor was Emil Drazen.
"Who the hell is Emil Drazen, Jack? I've never heard of him," Tony said.
"Neither have I, Tony, but it's too much to be a coincidence. I know Victor Drazen had two sons, Andrei and Alexis, and I know they're all dead. I killed Victor and Andrei myself, and Alexis died in the ambulance. But I've never heard of an Emil Drazen." Jack was excited, but puzzled.
"I'm running his name now, Jack," Tony said. Gimme a minute."
The two men stared intently at the monitors. After a short while data started to appear. A picture of a man identified as Emil Drazen formed. "Son of a btch," it was Jack's turn to say. "He looks just like Andrei."
"He's Andrei's son, Jack. Victor's grandson."
"I didn't know Andrei had children. And he's just a kid," Jack protested.
"He's nineteen, Jack," Tony said. "Old enough to cause a lot of trouble."
"And rich enough, too. We know that Victor had a lot of money, and we never found where it went after he and his sons died. None of our intel said anything about there being another generation of Drazens. One was more than enough," he added.
"But why would the Drazens go after the Russians, Jack? I thought their beef was with you, and Palmer," Tony said.
"That's what I thought, too, Tony. Is this data real, or is it disinformation? Can we trust it?"
"Gimme a minute," Tony replied. "Let me run this again, try to get at it from other sources."
"There's no mistake, Jack," Tony said a few minutes later. "It's the Drazens."
The Terror Business - Chapter 4
The men continued to stare at the screen together, but their thoughts were different. Tony was trying to connect the dots, to figure out why Drazen would be involved with Middle Eastern terrorists. What did either side have to gain?
Jack was thinking back, to the terrible day when the Drazens were after Kim and Teri, when they'd wanted Jack dead, too, along with David Palmer. After everything that had happened, Jack thought that that part of his past, at least, wouldn't come back. He had made his peace with Teri's death. He and Kim had gotten over the rough times together, and they were now as close as a father and daughter could be. How did this Emil Drazen fit in? Was he coming after Jack again? Or Kim?
He was hit again with the truth of what he'd told Hammond. He wasn't the same old Jack he'd been in those days. Not only was there too much resentment, too much bitterness, but he wasn't the same physically now. All of the missions, and the months in prison, had taken their toll. The scars crossed his body like perverted spider webs. He hurt most of the time now, from all the injuries, but he'd never admitted it to anyone. He wasn't the type to complain. But his reserves were gone, and he knew it. He didn't have what it takes to go after a new enemy. But if it was Drazen out there, behind all this, could he let someone else take him on, and just sit back and hope for the best? He knew he wasn't capable of that, and he dreaded going back out into the field. But...
All of these "buts" made Jack suddenly feel light-headed. He slumped back in his chair, and put his head in his hands. Tony thought that Jack was thinking, and decided not to disturb him. Jack was thinking, but not about Drazen. Jack realized how helpless he felt, and how hopeless. Just like he'd felt when he was in prison. But then the threat had been to Jack, and to his future. Now, the threat was to the people he loved. He had to go on.
Jack forced himself to focus, and sat up straighter in his chair. He felt a hundred years old. "Tony," he said wearily, "the Drazen connection has to be the key. Plus, with all the Russian nukes available on the arms market, why would the people from the Middle East use a dirty bomb in Moscow? They certainly didn't hold back because of their love for humanity. Those sons of btches would use anything they could get their hands on, and we know they've got more than enough money to buy a real nuke. I don't think this came from the Middle East. I think it came from Drazen."
"That doesn't make sense, Jack. Why would Drazen go after Moscow? And why would the money go to Morocco?" Tony was trying to follow Jack's reasoning, but it didn't add up.
"A lot of this is disinformation, Tony, you said it yourself. He may have planted the bomb in Moscow to throw us off. Or maybe because the Eastern Europeans still hate the Russians for everything they did. But I don't think Moscow was the real target."
"But London, Jack?" Tony queried. "What's the connection with London?"
"I'm not sure yet, "Jack responded. "But there must be one. Victor Drazen would only go after something with a reason. His reasons were vicious, Tony, we know that. But to his twisted mind, he had a reason. And his grandson may be as vicious as Victor was."
Jack paused, and looked up at Tony. There was something in the back of his mind. "Victor Drazen's last demand was for David Palmer to release $200 million of Drazen's money. Palmer said he didn't have the authority to do that. But something's always bothered me about that, Tony. If Palmer had the power to order the attack against Drazen, it would have taken far less authority to get access to his money. So why'd Palmer deny he could do it?"
"I don't follow you, Jack," Tony replied, rising from his chair. He started to pace the room. "I know you hate Palmer, but what's Drazen's money got to do with this?"
"Look at the message again, Tony," Jack directed. "'Infidels. You have killed our families. You have stolen our riches. For this you must pay.'" With the Middle East when they speak of 'riches' we always think they're referring to their oil. What if by riches the people who sent the message mean something else? Maybe it's the missing two hundred million. And what if, instead of killing their children, they blame us for killing their fathers, or grandfathers?" Jack was growing excited. "It fits with Drazen."
Tony still didn't see it. "You're going down a blind alley, Jack. I realize how they tried to hurt you, but this Emil Drazen can't be behind this. He doesn't have the resources to hit Moscow, New York and London. Especially so close together. He just can't do all of that."
Jack was silent as he considered Tony's statement. He sat back in his chair again. A minute or two passed. Slowly, Jack stood. "Bear with me a sec, Tony. I've got to think this through."
Another minute went by. Jack stared at the floor. "There has to be a connection between Drazen and London," he said softly, speaking to himself. But what? London had no connec.... Wait, Tony, of course there's a connection! Stephen Saunders!"
Tony stared at Jack. "You think the Drazens knew Saunders was involved in Nightfall?"
"Yes, dammit, they knew! They knew Palmer and I were in it, and we thought only Ellis knew that. But we were wrong! Victor Drazen knew about Saunders the same way he knew everything else about Nightfall. So he blamed London for the mission, as well as us, and now his grandson is trying to avenge his family, and get back the two hundred million dollars!"
Tony was still dubious. "But what you said before, Jack, about the Morocco connection? How's that fit in?"
Jack wouldn't be put off. "That's more of the disinformation, Tony. That's where they're trying to throw us off."
Still Tony wasn't sure. "Jack, I know how the Drazens hurt you. But they're in the past. You can't let yourself get hung up on that, and not see the bigger threat facing us today. You're wrong about this, Jack. You're not focusing on the data we've got now."
Jack was angry. "Tony, you're the one who brought up the name Emil Drazen. Not me. You said he's in the data."
"But that's only one piece of the data, Jack. And that could easily be the disinformation. It makes more sense to focus on the Middle East."
Jack wouldn't let go. "This is it, Tony. I'm sure of it. It fits. It explains the connection to Moscow and why it wasn't hit with a full nuke. It explains the connection to London. It explains the threat to us. This is it," he repeated.
Tony paused. "Jack, look, I know you're trying to help. But you're tired. You've gone through a lot of intel since you got here. You're not looking at the bigger picture. Maybe you should get some rest."
"Don't patronize me, Tony," Jack said angrily. "I was asked to come in to help you interpret this intel, and that's what I'm doing. You yourself said I have good instincts in figuring this stuff out. That's why Hammond brought me in. So don't patronize me," he snapped, "and tell me I need a nap! I know this is the right thread. Help me work it through, don't just dismiss it, okay?"
Tony didn't know what to do. He was convinced Jack was wrong, and he couldn't waste his time working on a bad theory, but Hammond had ordered him to work with Jack. Despite that, he decided he couldn't do it.
"I'm going to get some coffee, Jack. You want some?" Tony asked, getting up.
Jack said, "No, thanks, Tony. But I'll take a Coke or something."
"Sure, Jack. I'll go see what we've got. Be right back," Tony said, heading for the door.
As Tony left Tech 1 he turned right, toward Hammond's office. The coffee, which was to the left, wasn't on his mind. He climbed the stairs, trying to decide what to say. He knew that Hammond respected Jack's abilities, or at least what his abilities had been, but Tony could see that Jack wasn't capable of such greatness these days.
At the top of the steps he knocked, and waited for Hammond to respond. "Come in," his boss said, and Tony pulled open the glass door. "What have you got, Tony? Did you and Jack find anything yet?"
"Look, Brad," Tony said, standing near the desk. "I know how great Jack was, but he's not the same today. He's got the idea that Victor Drazen's grandson is behind this, and he doesn't want to look at anything else." He sucked his breath in through his teeth. "He's not the same old Jack anymore, Brad. I hate to say it, but working with Jack is a waste of time. And we don't have the time to humor him."
Hammond raised his eyes from his desk, and stared at Tony. "Drazen's grandson, for God's sake? Where'd he get that?"
"There's a mention in the intel of a guy named Emil Drazen. I traced it, and he's Victor's grandson. Jack thinks the boy is out to avenge his family."
"That's nuts," said Hammond. "How old is he?"
"Nineteen," Tony replied.
"What else has he come up with?"
"Nothing else, Brad, that's the problem," Tony said dejectedly. "He's fixated on this. He's not looking at anything else."
Hammond sighed, a long, drawn-out sigh. "Maybe bringing Jack in wasn't such a good idea after all," he admitted to himself. "Maybe I'm so desperate that I'm grasping at anything." To Tony he said, "Do you think there's any chance he might be right?"
Tony paused, and allowed, "Sure, there's a chance, Brad, but do I think it's likely? No. I don't think it's likely."
"Maybe I'd better hear it from Jack directly," Hammond said as he rose from his chair and headed for the stairs, telling himself again that he had to lose some weight, get back into shape.
"Wait for me a minute, Brad," said Tony. "I told Jack I was going for coffee."
"I'll meet you in Tech 1, Tony. We don't have a minute," Hammond reminded him.
At the bottom of the stairs Tony headed for the kitchen that all of the CTU personnel shared. Hammond went straight towards Tech 1.
"Jack, " Hammond said, as he entered. "What've you got?" He peered at Jack's monitor. All that he saw was a picture of a young man. "Who's that?"
"Emil Drazen," Jack replied, still staring at the screen. "Victor's grandson."
"How does he fit in?" Hammond wanted to know.
"He hates us. He hates London. And he hates Moscow."
"I'm sure he hates us, Jack. You, and Palmer especially. Bur why London and Moscow?" Hammond asked, trying to follow Jack's thinking.''
"He hates London because of Stephen Saunders. He must know that Saunders participated in Nightfall. He hates Moscow because they tried to control Kosovo after the Iron Curtain fell, and Yugoslavia fell apart. Or he may have bombed Moscow just to throw us off," Jack responded wearily. "And you know why he hates us."
"Where does the money trail go?" Hammond asked.
"It starts in Bermuda, and it goes through Sarajevo," Jack responded. "From there to Morocco."
"Morocco?" Hammond asked in surprise. "That's a new one."
"I think Morocco's a red herring, Brad. Because it's new. The Middle Eastern guys have been pretty consistent in routing money, 'cause they know it's worked for them so far. They don't like to make changes. Before, it was Beirut or Syria that funneled money to people like Bin Laden and Sayed Ali. There was no connection to Morocco. I can't see them starting to go that way all of a sudden," Jack explained.
"But Sarajevo is part of Croatia now, Jack. And Drazen's in Kosovo," Hammond protested.
"We know there are links between the two. They were both part of Yugoslavia, remember. There are still Croats in Kosovo. I'm sure there's a connection."
"Isn't it beyond even Drazen's capabilities to detonate bombs in three different cities at once, Jack?" Hammond asked dubiously.
"Apparently not," Jack replied, certain he was right about Drazen. "This is the only thing that fits, Brad," he continued. "We know the terrorists in the Middle East have gotten their hands on more nukes, and it's only a matter of time before they use them. They wouldn't waste their time bringing in dirty bombs."
"That makes sense, Jack. We know they're trying to figure out the logistics of bringing more bombs in. After the bomb you found at the airport, we pretty much shut down their networks. But we know they have more bombs, and they're just waiting to use them. That's what we've been focusing on. That's why the dirty bomb in Moscow caught us off guard," he admitted. Hammond was starting to doubt his words to Tony. Maybe this wasn't "nuts."
"That's what makes sense." Jack echoed Hammond. "I don't think Drazen could get a nuke, even from the rogue Russians. They hate the people in Kosovo even more than they want their money. So all Drazen could get his hands on was a dirty bomb. Or bombs," he corrected himself.
"So how do you want to proceed?" Hammond asked. He was pretty convinced that Tony was wrong, and that Jack was on to something.
"I think we have to use Chappelle's method, Brad. I think we have to go back to the money trail."
"Get to it, then. If there's anything you need, just tell me. Do you want Chloe in on this?" Hammond asked.
"That would be great," Jack responded. "Next to Ryan, I think she's the best at following the money."
"I'll get her," said Hammond. "But you'll have to bring her up to speed."
Jack sat pondering, until he heard Chloe and Tony enter the room together. Tony was carrying coffee, and a can of Coke. "Sorry it took so long, Jack. The soda machine was being filled when I went to the kitchen."
"Thanks, Tony," Jack said absent-mindedly. He was lost in thought, but this time it wasn't about Barbara. It was about the money. Something just didn't feel right.
"We still don't know who wanted Victor Drazen alive, Tony. We don't know why someone set up Nightfall, but made sure it failed." Jack was struck by a thought. He knew who had set up Nightfall. But why would Palmer have wanted it to fail? That didn't make sense.
To Chloe he said, "Try to trace through the money that Victor Drazen had. He claimed there was $200 million of his we had that he wanted back. See if you can follow that."
"That's a dead issue, Jack," Tony protested. "We've got a new money trail. We have to trace that."
"I don't think it's dead, Tony. I think it's very much alive. And that's how I want Chloe to approach it," Jack said adamantly, sounding like he was in charge. The old feelings of strength and confidence were coming back.
There was silence in the room as they each worked at their task. Jack was concentrating on Emil Drazen, while Tony stubbornly worked on Sayed Ali and bin Laden. He was convinced Jack was barking up the wrong tree, and he resented the waste of time.
Suddenly Chloe spoke. "Two hundred million dollars of Victor Drazen's are unaccounted for, Jack. The money fell out along the way."
"What do you mean by 'along the way,' Chloe?" Jack asked.
"I mean that after Nightfall, when Drazen was captured and brought to the US, the State Department was tracking his money. He started with close to a billion dollars, Jack, and the records show we only got eight hundred million after he was killed. Or when we thought he'd been killed. That's still a lot of money," Chloe pointed out, uselessly, "but there's still two hundred million dollars that's missing."
Jack took a deep breath. He was tired, really tired now, because he just didn't have the same energy he'd had before all the beatings and abuse he'd survived on his missions, and in prison. But he could feel the adrenaline take hold as he got his second wind.
"You've got to find that two hundred million," he told Chloe. "I'm convinced that's the key."
"All we know about it is that Drazen demanded that Palmer turn it over. And Palmer said it was gone. He's the President now, Jack. Why would he have lied?" Tony still thought Jack was on the wrong track.
Jack ignored Tony. "Follow the money, Chloe." Jack directed.
"I'm working on it," Chloe replied impatiently. "You bring me in in the middle, and expect me to be up to speed. Maybe if you had thought ahead you would have had me working with you all along."
Both men knew Chloe hated being left out of anything, and they both knew Chloe well enough to also know that she was well-meaning, despite her abrasive personality.
Tony knew Jack wouldn't let go, so he told her, "It's okay, Chloe. Take the time you need to check the data we've looked at, and you'll see where we are now."
Jack tried to placate her, too, but he had little patience for Chloe now. "Chloe, all we want you to do is to trace the money. We know you can do that. Just tell me where that money ended up. That's all I need."
"'That's all I need,'" Chloe muttered to herself. "Yeah, that's all you need."
Despite her inability to get along with people, Chloe was a computer whiz. Even while she was complaining she had been working her keyboard, faster than Tony or Jack could follow. After two minutes she said, "Wow! The money went to the Cayman Islands. There's still a hundred eighty million there. And the account is in the name of David Palmer!"
Tony and Jack both looked at Chloe, stunned. "Did you say it's David Palmer's account?" Tony asked incredulously. "President David Palmer?"
"Yes, Tony, that's what I just said. Can't you hear me?" Chloe asked caustically.
Jack just stared at Chloe's screen. Of all things, this was not what he'd expected. As angry as he was at Palmer, Jack had never thought of Palmer as dishonest. Yet that was what the data clearly showed.
Slowly, he rubbed the space under his nose. He was thinking about everything that had happened, Nightfall, the failed mission, Drazen's escape, his attempt to kill Jack and his family, and Palmer.
Suddenly it all came together. All of the pieces fell into place. Jack had always known that Nightfall had been set up to fail. Now he knew why.
"It all makes sense now," he told Tony and Chloe. "Palmer's been behind the whole thing."
He was excited now. "Palmer threatened Drazen, told him that the US would crack down unless Drazen paid Palmer off. Palmer took the money, and authorized Nightfall, to take the pressure off Drazen. He must have paid people off to set my team up. They thought none of us would get out alive, and everyone would think Drazen was dead. That's why there's twenty million missing from the two hundred. Palmer used it for bribes."
He continued. "Someone must have been sniffing around, and Palmer panicked. Palmer must have double-crossed Drazen, and had him arrested. He wasn't killed because a man can't die twice. By keeping him in the class-3 detention centers he had a bargaining chip in case Drazen's sons came after him. He didn't count on Andrei and Alexis getting inside information, so they could spring Victor from custody. They set their sights on Palmer, and on me and my family."
"And now Victor's grandson, Emil, is seeking revenge?" Tony asked.
"Yes," said Jack. "That's why he's come after us." After a pause Jack said, "Chloe, you've got to keep tracing that money. That's the key."
Chloe turned back to her keyboard. Tony and Jack just watched her, willing her to find where the money went.
"Okay," she said finally, with more excitement than either man had heard her express before. "There's a ten million dollar transfer from Palmer's account to some man in Kosovo. And another ten million went to a man named Peter Douglas. He has an office in Chicago. And he used to be with the Department of Defense. Didn't they run that hidden prison system?"
Jack ignored Chloe's questions. "Who the hell is Peter Douglas?" Jack demanded.
Chloe tapped her keyboard again. "He still has ties to DOD. And he's involved with the railroads."
Jack and Tony looked at each other. "You were right about the targets, Jack!" Tony exclaimed. "They've got to check the stations and the tracks!" He reached for the phone and dialed Hammond. "We've got it, Brad," he told Hammond when he answered. "We've got it!"
Finally, Jack understood why he'd been prosecuted. Palmer wanted him out of the way. He was afraid that Jack would figure out that Nightfall was supposed to fail all along, so Palmer had set him up. And that's why Palmer hadn't pardoned him, like he had pardoned Tony. Palmer was dirty. It was all because of the money.
After that, it was relatively easy to find the bombs. The FBI arrested Douglas, and he quickly confessed. He told them about the bomb hidden in Penn Station in New York, as well as the one at Victoria Station in London.
When it was all over, after the bombs had been found and defused, what remained was the hardest part of all. How do you arrest the President of the United States? In the end, Hammond called the head of the FBI, Rachel Turner, and told her what they'd found. In turn, the head of the Bureau called the Attorney General, a man named Richard Spain, and briefed him. Spain called Palmer and asked for an appointment. The FBI Director went with him.
They confronted Palmer in the Oval Office. The evidence was incontrovertible, and Palmer knew it. At first he denied everything, and fired them, but they refused to leave. Palmer called in the Secret Service, and told Agent Pierce to arrest them. As the agents grabbed them, Turner and Spain quickly told Pierce about the plot, and the evidence against Palmer. Reluctantly, Pierce told his men to let go of the Director and the Attorney General. He turned to the President.
"I'm sorry, Mr. President. I don't know what to do, but I know I can't arrest them. There's just too much here to ignore. I called the Treasury Secretary," who Palmer knew was the head of the Secret Service. "I'm waiting for orders from him, Sir. If he orders me to arrest you, I'll have to do it."
Slowly, with great reluctance, Palmer accepted what was happening. He said to Pierce, "All right, Aaron. I'm going to call the Vice President. When he gets here, I'll tender my resignation."
The Terror Business - Epilogue
She waited in the open doorway as he parked his Jeep in the driveway. She saw the total exhaustion in his eyes as he fumbled with the door handle. She caught him, swaying, as he half-climbed, half-fell out of the car. Supporting his weight, she helped him into the house.
She led him into the bedroom, and he collapsed onto the bed without a sound. She removed his shoes and his socks, and eased him out of his pants. She covered him with a light blanket, and then kissed him, a gentle, lingering kiss on his forehead.
He slept for more than 12 hours. When he woke, she was lying beside him. Despite the darkness, he knew she was watching him.
"Barb," he started, and then stopped. She waited. He knew what he wanted to say. "Barb," he started again. "I love you." She pulled him to her, and he began to sob. He cried for everything that had happened to him, the horror, the deaths, the pain and torture he'd endured, the imprisonment. But he cried mostly because he felt safe in her arms.
When his sobs subsided, he drew her to him, and began to kiss her. He knew her body as well as he knew his own by now, and he knew what gave her pleasure. That was all he wanted to do now, to please her.
When they were done, both sated, both exhausted, he realized that he wasn't in Barbara's house any longer. It was their house now. He was safe now. He was home.