24 Declassified: 03 - Trojan Horse by Marc Cerasini

gathered up the fallen pastries, careful not to touch the tainted confections with his bare flesh. He dumped the poisoned food into a garbage bag, tossed the sound suppressed handgun in with it, then joined the others.
    For the past two weeks, Haroun—obeying the instructions of the mysterious Hasan—had worked side-by-side, and socialized with the murdered men who lay at his feet. On three previous occasions Haroun had brought honey cakes baked, he said, by his dutiful and obedient Muslim wife. In truth Haroun had no wife, nor would he ever have one— except perhaps in Paradise where he would have many. Each time, the cakes had been delivered to him by an operative of Hasan, and Haroun was advised to share them with these men.
    But not today. This time Haroun was told not to touch the pastries on pain of death. As always, he obeyed his master’s instructions to the letter.
    It was the least he could do for the man who showed him the Gate of Paradise, granted him a tantalizingly brief vision of the world beyond this one.
    Haroun did not know what deadly poison his master had used to kill these men. Nor did he care. All that mattered was that at last the plan had been set into motion. Nothing could stop the tide of blood to come. The dead men scattered around him were but the first of many who would fall. But unlike the quiet, anonymous deaths of these foolish pawns, the massacre to come would be seen by hundreds of millions all over the world.
    10:12:41 A . M .PDT La Hacienda Tijuana, Mexico
    The pop tune ringtone shook Fay Hubley out of her monitor trance. She saved her work, reached for the cell in her leather bag, dangling off the back of the chair
    “Hello.”
    “Fay? It’s Jamey. I tried to reach Tony but—”
    “He turned his phone off. He hooked up with some smelly snitch down here and he’s following a lead or something.”
    “He should have passed that information on to Nina.”
    “Tony told me to make the call,” said Fay. “I was just about to—”
    “What’s the name of this snitch?”
    “The guy’s last name’s Dobyns. His first name is Ray.”
    “Can you spell his last name?”
    “No, but Tony said he knew the guy from before so it’s probably in one of his after-action reports.”
    “And where did Tony go?” asked Jamey.
    Fay exhaled with distaste. “Some ho’ house. A place called El Pequeños Pescados on Albino Street.”
    Jamey noted the information in the mission log, pumped Fay for more and came up dry. She was concerned about Fay. The girl sounded distracted. “Listen, Fay, I want to give you a heads up. We found a Trojan horse. It’s an attractive download for people with the right equipment—a movie that hasn’t been released yet. Milo Pressman matched the hidden virus with the protocols you isolated and he says it has Lesser’s fingerprints all over it.”
    Fay chewed her lip. “That’s bad. If Lesser’s launched something in the last five days, he did it from a server we know nothing about. That means he’s at least one step ahead of us.”
    “Ryan Chappelle is sending Milo Pressman down there to back you up. He should arrive in a few hours. I’ll update you when I know more.”
    “Cool,” said Fay. “That will be fun. Milo’s cute.”
    “Listen up, girl. You’re not on vacation. Stay alert. Stay wary. Tony’s an ex-Marine, and he has good field experience. If he left you with instructions, follow them. This mission is heating up and a lot can go bad down there.”
    Fay laughed. “Take it easy, Jamey. I’m not in Afghanistan. I’m just across the Mexican border. Really, what can happen to me in the middle of the day?”
    10:18:37 A . M .PDT Albino Street Tijuana, Mexico
    Ray and Tony took a cab to the choked streets of Centro, but Tony made them get out in front of Planet Hollywood.
    “Why are we switching cabs?” Dobyns asked nervously. “Are we being shadowed or something?”
    “We’re walking from here, that’s all,” said Tony.
    It was apparent