Free 24 Declassified: Head Shot (2009) by David Jacobs Page B

in the front seat and the suspect in the back. Taggart drove the pickup truck. Sharon Stallings drove Taggart’s car, while Fisk drove the car that had been assigned to him and Stallings.
    Jack had been groggy and his ears were still ringing, so he kept his mouth shut during the drive. He learned later that the town where he’d been stopped was named Random. That seemed fitting somehow.
    The MRT convoy climbed Rimrock Road to reach the Mountain Lake substation. Rimrock Road was built on a stony ledge; a cliffside loomed on its west, while an ever- increasing drop over an empty void opened on its east. The road leveled off for a mile-long stretch, at the end of which the ledge widened into a large circular outcropping that was a scenic overlook point.
    The substation was firmly hunkered down on that outcropping. It presented a spectacular view, but Jack’s interest in sightseeing was nil.
    Taggart had had time during the drive to work the pickup truck’s comm system and make contact with the CTU Central dispatcher at Pike’s Ford. It was a tossup as to which of the two was more startled, the dispatcher or Taggart. Central managed to convey something of the reality of the situation before the convoy reached the substation.
    Taggart was unable to communicate directly with Hardin through the pickup’s comm system without going through Central, something that he was not minded to do in any case now that he realized there had been a screwup of major proportions. Taggart started playing it cagey, his responses to Central becoming vaguer and more evasive before he finally signed off by saying that someone from the MRT would get back to them as soon as the issue had been clarified.
    The convoy pulled into the substation parking lot. Taggart was out of the pickup fast, scurrying over to Hardin, who was still in his car. Hardin rolled down his window to allow Taggart to stick his head inside for a hurried urgent consultation. Taggart did most of the talking, or whispering rather, buzzing in Hardin’s ear. The more Taggart talked, the redder became Hardin’s ears and the back of his neck. Hardin turned around in the driver’s seat to look back at Jack, staring at him through the wire mesh grille of the protective barrier. He listened to more of Taggart’s whisperings, at one point blurting out, “Impossible!”
    Taggart said, “I’m not so sure, Bryce—”
    Hardin got out of the car and opened the back door. He said, “Let me give you a hand.” He gripped Jack under the arm, helping him out of the police car. He said, “Careful you don’t bump your head.” Jack gave him a dirty look.
    Hardin held Jack under one of his handcuffed arms and Taggart held him under the other as the two cops walked Jack across the lot and into the station, their manner a lot more solicitous than it had been. They took him to the front desk where a suspect would normally be booked. A phone bank and two-way radio were part of the desk’s complement of equipment.
    Taggart emptied out Jack’s pockets, placing their contents on the countertop. They included a couple of spare clips for his gun, several sets of keys, a note-pad and pen, some loose change, a cell phone, and a wallet. His handset transceiver had been in the truck but Taggart had brought it inside.
    Taggart went through Jack’s wallet. It didn’t take him long to find Jack’s CTU ID card. It bore a thumbnail photo of Jack. Taggart and Hardin stood side by side, alternately looking at the ID and at Jack. Taggart said, “Jack Bauer, that’s the name they gave me over the radio, and believe me, Bryce, they weren’t giving much.”
    Hardin said, “Uh-oh.” Stallings and Fisk had been standing off to the side, watching the proceedings. They didn’t know what it was all about but they knew that something was up.
    Taggart looked at Hardin. Hardin scratched the side of his head, cleared his throat. He said, “Well. Ahem. Er, Mr. Bauer, I’m afraid that we’re all the victims of a