24: Ground Zero
Episode 2.03: "Day 2: 2:00am to 3:00am"
By
Chris Wright
Based on the television series 24
And
24: End of an Era
24: Ground Zero – Day 2: 2:00am - 3:00am"The following takes place between 2:00am and 3:00am, on Friday 28th March, 2008…"
2:00am Pacific Daylight Time
Imperial Highway, Los Angeles
Angela awoke to the faint smell of burning with her head resting against the steering wheel of her wrecked Lexus sports-car. There was a throbbing pain in her head, and as she touched it she felt a wet patch of blood seeping through her brown hair. She winced at the touch and then tried to prise open the door. She kicked at it, and eventually it swung open awkwardly at a strange angle. She half stepped, half fell out of the vehicle and staggered clear of the now visibly burning car. She turned around and saw the front of the car virtually wrapped around a tall tree; the bonnet and front bumper virtually unrecognizable. She rubbed her head and winced as she thought of what had happened. It had all gone so quickly, but from what she could remember, she had been forced off the road by an unmarked van; something that smacked of a conspiracy. Suddenly the warnings that Jack had yelled her way as she was leaving rang true, and she shivered a little as she wondered what she had got herself into. She looked up the steep embankment and took a deep breath before beginning to climb towards the freeway.
The climb was long and hard, and she did it mostly on her knees, digging her hands into the dirt for grip. She had long since discarded her expensive high heels, and was now wishing that she had worn more casual clothes to visit Jack. She kept on climbing through the darkness, now invisible from the crash site just in time to miss the unmarked van as it approached. It slowed to a stop and opened its doors as three armed men hopped out. They moved in a professional fashion, covering each other with their weapons raised. They moved as if they were tracking a dangerous criminal, not a high-flying lawyer. As they approached the vehicle, they realized that their target had disappeared. One of the men raised an arm to stop his colleagues as he moved forward to check the vehicle out.
Once satisfied, he waved the man back to the van as he pulled out his cell-phone, dialing a familiar number in his mind.
"Yes?" the deep Texan voice of Vince Abbott said.
"It's Murphy. She's not here," the commando said with trepidation.
"What do you mean 'she's not here'?"
"We took the car off the road just like you asked and isolated it. But we're at the wreckage and she's not in it."
"Find her Murphy. We're in a lot of trouble if you don't."
"We will Sir."
"You better. And
don't contact me until she's in your custody."
Abbott ended
the call and threw the phone across the room in frustration. He lay
back in his comfortable chair and wheezed a little in the late night
heat. It was just after 4am in Houston, but he had no time for
sleep. He had been given a small job to do, and he didn't want to
face the embarrassment of failing. But he had to make one more call
before acting any further, and that was to the man who had given him
the job.
"Chief of Staff Morrison speaking," Joshua spoke proudly, loving the way his title sounded.
"It's Abbot," he said in his thick accent, "I have some news from my men."
"And that is?" Josh said impatiently, regretting giving this bone idle man the job to do.
"They took Ms. Bennett's car off the road but now they can't find her."
"What do you mean they can't find her?"
"The car was empty
when they got there; they're looking for her right now."
"They
lost her!" Joshua exclaimed, "How could you let that happen!"
"They're going to find her. It's just a matter of time."
"Let me make this perfectly clear Mr. Abbott. If your men do not find Ms. Bennett within the hour then the contract we made is cancelled."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Abbott asked with a small tremble in his voice.
"Work it out Vince." Joshua sneered, ending the call.
Abbott was left a little frightened by the call, wondering what Joshua had meant. He brushed his thick mane of silver hair back and leaned back a little more in his chair, giving him the appearance of a stranded turtle that wouldn't be able to get back up. He sighed and took another long, slow sip of his drink.
Unaware of what was happening below her; Angela reached the top of the embankment and stumbled to her feet. She was almost completely covered from head to toe in earth and mud and her hands were almost black with dirt; but she ignored these and began trying to flag down a vehicle. The encounter with the van had shaken her, and she was frightened of it coming back and finishing the job. The way it had taken her our left no mistake of their intentions; she wasn't supposed to survive a crash like that. She waved frantically as vehicle after vehicle drove past, not wanting to stop and pick up a person with such a poor physical appearance. She looked down at her clothes and made a small effort to brush some of the debris off her suit before resuming her frantic thumbing. Suddenly an SUV pulled slowly over to the hard shoulder and came to a stop beside her. Angela smiled and bent down to the window.
"Thank you so much! I was in a car accident."
"It's alright; I wasn't going anywhere anyway," the woman driving the car said flatly. Angela recoiled a little at the woman's tone of voice, but only for a second. She was just glad to have someone willing to help. "So where are you going?" the woman asked.
"I need to go to my office Downtown."
"And where's that?"
"Paseo de La Plaza, just across from Union Station."
"I know it. Hop in."
Angela did as she was told, smiling as she got in. She gave out a huge sigh of relief and glanced out of the window as she saw the spot where her car had left the road. The woman put the car into gear and slowly pulled out.
2:08am Pacific Daylight Time
Counter Terrorist Unit, Financial District
Chris Walker strolled into CTU through the final checkpoint and nodded at the various analysts who greeted him. He spotted Bill Buchanan bent over at Milo's station with Milo and moved towards them. Both men turned as he reached them with troubled looks on their faces.
"Well thanks for the lovely welcome guys," Chris frowned.
"Thanks for coming in at such short notice Chris," Bill said, still looking troubled.
"Are you going to tell me why?"
Bill sighed and began,
"Just over an hour ago the Hollywood Reservoir was bombed, and
parts of Los Angeles were flooded. We have reason to believe that
this is only the beginning."
Now Chris was jolted from his
sleepy state-of-mind, suddenly awake and grim-faced, "What makes
you think that?"
"We received a phone call two minutes before the attack; he didn't say in as many words, but he made it pretty clear that we were talking about a 24 hour timeframe."
"Any ideas who is responsible?"
"None. The voice on the end of the line was scrambled and automated; we tried a trace but it was a dead end."
"Great. So we have no leads whatsoever?"
"Not at the moment," Bill murmured, suddenly wondering why he brought in his head of Field Ops.
"Good. I'll be in my office playing Tetris," Chris remarked sarcastically.
"We have to have our best people in Chris; we don't know when they're going to strike again."
"We don't know IF they're going to strike again Bill!" Chris said, raising his voice a little and drawing glances from his co-workers.
"Well if they do I want to be ready; maybe show that this department shouldn't be dissolved."
Chris paused, knowing how much Bill cared for CTU, even after the short amount of time he had spent there, "Alright. You give me something to do and I'll do it. Who else is coming in?"
"Corrigan and Jordyn are on their way."
That made Chris a little happier. His two best field agents were known even before they came to CTU LA. They had followed separate paths in various Government and security employment before being recruited into CTU New York following the World Trade Centre attacks. They both shared a zeal for the greater good and believed that they were doing something that made a real difference in the world. They were damn good field agents, and just the people Chris wanted undertaking CTU's operations.
"That's good. Anyone else?"
"Edgar Stiles should be here any minute."
"Edgar Stiles? I thought he resigned?"
"Well he did, but I gave him his job back."
"Any reason why?"
"Well I think he only resigned because Chloe got fired; but they haven't been doing too well lately. I was happy to give him his job back; we need our best people. And Edgar is the best."
"No, Chloe is the best. But Edgar'll do."
Bill flashed a look of disdain at Chris before waving him away.
"When everyone gets here I'll brief you fully."
"I'll be in my office then," Chris said before turning tail and moving towards Field Ops. He sighed as he went, wishing that he could still be at home, even if he was arguing with his daughter. He couldn't help but worry about what Sarah was doing when she was out to the small hours most nights. He had heard stories of what had happened to Jack Bauer's daughter all those years ago, and he certainly didn't want that happening to him. He got into his office and closed the door behind him, enjoying the welcoming silence of the shielded office. He always liked being in on his own before the cavalry arrived; the Head of Field Ops office was situated right at the back of the CTU floor meaning very few interruptions. He moved over to his expensive leather office chair and sat down, letting out a deep sigh of relief. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to relax. But when he opened his eyes, his computer stared right back at him.
Tetris… he thought to himself, and sat forward.
2:14am Pacific Daylight Time
Los Angeles International Airport, Runway 1
The pilot and co-pilot of the large Airbus 380 made final preparations for their take-off as the hulking beast of a machine sat on the runway; awaiting the beginning of its first major flight. Clarence Oveur was proud to be the pilot for this momentous occasion, and he intended to make the most of the opportunity that had been handed to him. He pressed a button on the futuristic looking console and put him through to the four-hundred passengers who had managed to get tickets for the flight.
"Good morning Ladies and Gentleman. I am Captain Oveur, and welcome to United American flight MU-SE45 to London. I am pleased to announce that this will be the first fully commercial flight of the Airbus A380, and we hope that you will enjoy this maiden flight in the comfort that has been afforded to you. Our flight time is expected to be around ten hours thirty minutes, so we should arrive by 10am local time. We will give you more announcements when we are in the air, but right now just sit back, and enjoy your flight."
The pilot clicked off the intercom and turned around to smile at his co-pilot.
"Congratulations Captain, you just made the first broadcast from A380. You just made history," the co-pilot smiled.
"Thank you Roger," Oveur smiled, enjoying the moment.
"Here's hoping for an uneventful flight; these things fly themselves anyway!" he laughed.
"Just jinx it why don't you!" he laughed back, glad the intercom wasn't on. He turned and picked up the radio, "We are clear for take off."
"Roger that, you are clear for take off on Runway 1."
Oveur placed the radio back in its housing and got ready. The next few minutes would be the most trying.
Further back on the lower deck, three men sitting together shifted uneasily in their comfortable seats. A man sitting five rows in front and to the right of them turned slowly and nodded to one. He returned the nod and then stared straight ahead along with the rest of the men. None of the other passengers had any clue of the hell that would strike them as soon as the journey was underway.
2:19am Pacific Daylight Time
Mount Wilson Observatory, San Gabriel Mountains
Ivan was talking on his cell-phone on one side of the observatory room while Cassel worked with some of his men on the monitors across the room. He turned around and watched Ivan speaking animatedly, wondering what was making him like that. Ivan turned and locked eyes with Cassel, and suddenly was grim-faced. The tension between the two men underlined the mistrust that both had for each other. Ivan finished his call, and snapped the phone shut, walking over to Cassel.
"What was that about?" Cassel asked.
"Let's just say I've arranged a little distraction at LAX to allow us easier access."
Cassel frowned, "What did you do?"
Ivan smiled before continuing, showing his confidence, "I have ten men on an Airbus A380 ready to take over the plane."
"You must be joking," Cassel sneered, not believing what his supposed colleague was saying.
"No joke. As soon as it takes off, my men will take it over until we're ready for them to land back in LAX. The subsequent chaos will allow us to get into the airport and take what we need."
Cassel threw a hand to his head as if he was trying to stop it from falling off in shock, "And you said my small light show at the reservoir was excessive…"
"This isn't excessive Kevin, this is necessary."
"Who says it's necessary?"
"I do."
"Wow, great partnership we have here…"
"Don't test me Kevin. This is a partnership, but we can't confer on everything."
"Ivan; I know you don't really trust me, but we have to get beyond this. We may not like each other much, but we have a common goal that we have to work towards together. And that starts by telling me what the hell is going on."
Ivan, who had looked to the ground throughout the whole conversation, suddenly looked up and smiled, "I understand comrade; America shall only be brought to its knees if we work together."
He extended a hand to Cassel, which he gladly took, shaking it heartily.
"So is there anything else I should know?" Ivan asked, sensing that Cassel also had a few secrets.
"No."
"Are you sure?" Ivan asked, trying to search Cassel's mind for what he was hiding.
"Yes.
We'll see how the hijacking goes and then we'll plan our next
attack."
Ivan didn't believe his partner, but he had to trust
him if they were to get through this. He turned away and pulled his
cell-phone out again as Cassel returned to the monitor banks.
2:24am Pacific Daylight Time
Los Angeles International Airport, Terminal 1
Roger Frederick stepped out of the taxi and tossed the fare through the driver's window. He had become so paranoid of being discovered by the Government that he even thought the cab driver was suspicious. He marched through the sliding doors to the terminal, his tattered rucksack slung over his shoulder. His hands were still shaking from the attack at his makeshift home; and now all he wanted to do was at least get out of Los Angeles. The plan he had formulated on the way to the airport was ambitious, but at that point he was past caring about the safe way out. He planned to travel to Washington DC – the center of American politics – and reveal the truth to the world; the truth that Stephen Byrne killed David Palmer.
The airport check-in area was very busy despite the early hours with many people traveling around America for the weekend. Roger smiled at the situation; he would be able to disappear easily if need be. He moved towards the ticket office for United American and waited in the three person queue. For the first time in a long time, Roger felt safe and like nothing could touch him.
2:26am Pacific Daylight Time
East Cypress Avenue, Burbank
The scene was tranquil in the small living room of Tony and Michelle's small home, but the minds of its occupants were chaotic. Michelle sat on the main computer, networking with at least three of the laptops stationed around her, piggybacking on their processing power while Danny watched behind her, not doing much else. Tony, George and Ryan sat around two other computers which were sifting the massive expanse of the internet for any reference to Roger Frederick or any aliases he had been going under for the past twelve months. There was silence in the room, but for the clicking and tapping of the mice and keyboards of the many computers which ate from the groaning meter. Tony was the first to break the silence.
"This search is hopeless; we're never going to find anything recent."
"We're finding some things," George said, his face buried in another laptop.
"Yeah, but not what we're looking for. These are all articles on the man behind the President's Chief of Staff; not the man who could bring down the Government."
"Well maybe that's one and the same…" Ryan mused, as he sat back in a chair.
Although Ryan hadn't meant anything by the words, they struck a chord with Tony.
"Maybe we're looking at the wrong person…"
"How do you mean?" Ryan asked, also getting the attention of the rest of the group.
"Well do you all remember who we all thought was the mole in the Government?"
"Mike Novick…" Ryan breathed, suddenly cottoning on to Tony's train of thought.
"Exactly. We were made to think that for a reason. On the surface, it would just be considered as a set-up to divert suspicion…but somebody wanted Mike out of the way for a reason."
"And Jack duly obliged…" George mumbled, looking to the floor.
"But before he died, he told Jack that there was something huge. Mike knew who the mole was."
"So why didn't he go public?" Michelle spoke up, seemingly joining the endless chorus of voices against Tony's idea.
"He could have thought it was too dangerous. Whoever it was managed to kill the President and placed moles inside several branches of the Government. Taking him or her down wouldn't have been easy."
There were no shouts of dissent from his colleagues, so Tony continued.
"When he was framed, he knew that he didn't have much time. If he went out at that point with very little evidence, then he would look like the one who was trying to frame someone. His only hope was to pass the evidence on…"
"To Roger Frederick…" Ryan said, suddenly seeing where Tony was going.
"Exactly. Mike knew he was going to die."
"So you think he should concentrate on Mike rather than Roger?" Michelle asked in annoyance, having already started a trace on a credit card they suspected belonged to a Roger Frederick.
"Only on searches for information. You and Danny keep looking for threads on where Roger is. That's still our best shot."
As if by magic, Michelle's computer bleeped in success as a large map of the West Coast of America suddenly popped up.
"It's the credit card trace! Someone just used it!" Michelle yelped in excitement.
Tony jumped to his
feet, "Where?"
"I'm not sure; it'll take time to zone
in."
"As soon as we have a general area I'll get after it."
"I'll go with you," George piped up, already on his feet.
"Me too," Ryan said with little feeling, seeming like he only said it to match George.
"You stay here and help Michelle, Ryan." Tony said without turning around.
Ryan slumped back to his chair, sulking. Michelle watched as the map closed in.
"South-western LA!"
Tony watched the map, but as it zoomed in one level closer on the trace, it became clear where the card had been used.
"He's in LAX…"
Tony and George rushed towards the front door, knowing that they may not have much time to find the man they were looking for.
2:30am Pacific Daylight Time
Los Angeles International Airport, Runway 1
Captain Oveur taxied the Airbus to the end of the runway and lined it up for take-off. This was the part that he lived for; the feel of being pushed back into his seat by the sheer power of the Rolls-Royce engines and the feel of his stomach turning over and over. He had been on the maiden flight of the first jumbo jet; and throughout that experience and his childhood, he dreamed of becoming a pilot. And now here he was, captain of the most important commercial flight in decades. His pride radiated throughout the cabin.
"Any last words?" he smiled at his co-pilot.
"Just to get this damn bird in the air Clarence!"
Clarence nodded and threw down the thrust lever; sending the plane hurtling down the runway. He waited and waited, and then lifted the hulking beast off the runway with ease. It was a textbook take-off, and as far as Clarence was concerned the hardest part was over.
The small band of men sitting towards the rear of the plane stared straight ahead as the plane leveled off at its cruising height. The stewardesses were starting to leave their seats, and suddenly the seatbelt light was extinguished. They waited for around ten seconds, and then the man in the outermost seat stood up and marched towards the front of the plane. He carried a small hold all in his right hand that brushed against every passenger on the way up.
"The toilet already Sir? You should have gone in the terminal!" one of the stewardesses joked with a fake smile.
The man smiled absent mindedly and looked to the floor, "You know, after all that increased security at check-in, I've been wondering ever since I boarded whether I should be allowed this on the plane…"
"Allowed what Sir?" the stewardess asked, her smile suddenly turning around. She watched the man as he rummaged around in the hold all; but she couldn't react in time before the man pulled a small pistol and spun her around, grabbing her around the throat in a vice like grip for all passengers to see. He flicked a switchblade from its housing and held it against the young firm flesh of her throat. The passengers began to panic, but they soon found weapons pointed at their own heads from the growing numbers of passengers joining the ranks of the hijackers. Chaos ensued as passengers began screaming and shouting before being shouted down by the leader of the hijackers.
"QUIET!" he yelled, still pressing his switchblade against the innocent woman's throat while he pointed his weapon in the general direction of the trouble in front of him. "Whether you do as we say or not, we will achieve our goals. You just need to decide whether you want to live through this or not."
He could feel the woman he was holding breathing heavily, close to hyperventilating. He reached down and whispered in her ear.
"Don't worry sweetheart. I like you; just don't do anything stupid OK?"
The stewardess nodded, at least it seemed that way through her trembling.
"What's your name anyway?"
"K-K-Kylie…" she stammered through her fright.
"Good morning Kylie; you can call me Hawks, I need you to do something for me."
"You're going to hijack this plane aren't you?" she said with surprising strength.
"Well I'd see it as us being in charge for a little; but call it what you like. I need you to get me into the cockpit."
"That's impossible. No-one can get into a cockpit these days."
"You're lying Kylie. It isn't advisable to lie to me."
"I'm not lying…" Kylie spoke in a trembling voice.
Hawks stared for a second at his terrified quarry before motioning to one of his comrades. Without hesitation, the other men fired point blank at one of the passenger's head. The well-dressed businessman fell to the ground; killed instantly by the bullet to the brain. Screams erupted again before Hawks yelled for quiet once again.
"Now Kylie, I want you to tell me the truth. Can you get me into the cockpit or do I have to kill another passenger?"
"I'll…get you in…" Kylie conceded.
"Good. That's the right answer. Let's go."
Hawks nodded at his men to keep guard on the remaining passengers and crew as he pushed his hostage towards the cockpit. He hated having to threaten women; but sometimes it was the only way to get the job done. This was one of these times. The two reached the cockpit door and Hawks motioned for her to get him in. He loosened his grip and let her go, retracting his switchblade and putting it back in his pocket.
"One wrong move and I shoot you in the back sweetheart. Believe that."
She turned around, shivering at Hawks words. Then, after composing herself, she pressed the intercom to the cockpit. She had no idea what she would say to get them to open the door; in fact she simply felt like a traitor at being the one to aid a terrorist attack. But she had no choice; it was do this and have a chance of stopping it or die.
"Eh…Captain?"
"Who is this?"
"This is Kylie Edwards; chief Stewardess. I've got a little boy here who wants to see the cockpit…do you want to let him in?"
She shot a glance back at Hawks who was smiling an eerie smile upon seeing her ingenuity. He heard movement and suddenly the sound of an electronic lock releasing. He was seconds from being in the cockpit of the most advanced commercial aircraft in the world, but then Kylie risked everything.
"IT'S A TRAP!" she yelled at the slowly opening door. But it was too late for her; Hawks pistol whipped her and knocked her unconscious as he lunged forward, taking her with him into the cockpit.
"Close the door now, and don't touch anything else." Hawks said flatly, pointing his gun at the pilot. He put his hands up, but out of the corner of his eye he saw movement from the co-pilot. "You as well deputy dog; don't think for one second that I won't shoot you." The co-pilot stopped moving and pulled his hands back to the arm-rests of the chair. He picked up Kylie using one hand while still pointing his weapon at the two men. It swung precariously as his attention was drawn by getting the unconscious woman seated and strapped in; so much so that Murdoch lunged forward, grabbing the barrel and trying to force it out of harms way. But, unfortunately for him, he wasn't an ex-marine like Hawks was, and was nowhere near as strong. Hawks forced the pistol into the Murdoch's chest and emptied the three remaining bullets in the clip into him.
Murdoch's face twisted into an expression of shock and pain before setting into the effects of death. Blood spread from the wound in his chest onto the leather cock-pit chairs as Clarence Oveur stood staring in complete shock.
"I guess you'll want another co-pilot then Captain Oveur," Hawks sneered.
"What do you want?"
"Well at the moment we're not quite sure. There are ten of us out there and we haven't quite decided yet. Although we will need to make a broadcast."
"What kind of broadcast?"
"One that every news network on the west coast will latch onto like the limpets that they truly are. One that tells them that if we are threatened in any way by the Air Force and their jets then we will crash this plane into LAX."
"Well that's original; doubt it will happen though…"
"Oh and why the doubts?"
"I will never fly this plane into LAX."
"Then we'll find someone else who will. Did I forget to tell you that we have four pilots willing to die for our cause?"
Clarence stared at Hawks in complete disbelief over this man and his detailed plan. He thought of himself as a decent judge of character; and he could tell that he meant what he said.
"Don't worry captain; if you just keep circling LAX airspace and you or your Air Force doesn't do anything stupid then in another hour or so we'll land on Runway 2 with no further fatalities. Do we have an understanding?"
"How do I know you won't just kill me as soon as you've got what you want?"
"What I want is for you to fly this plane and not make a nuisance of yourself; can you do that?"
"Yes." Clarence growled with contempt.
"Good. Keep circling; I will know if you change your course, so don't even attempt to play me or contact the authorities until the time is right."
Clarence didn't reply and simply stared ahead out the window into the deep black of the cloudy skies.
2:35am Pacific Daylight Time
Presidential Retreat, Los Angeles
Stephen Byrne sat across the table from his wife and stared at her while she read through the points to consider for the G8 summit. He had stopped listening a long time ago however, and was overcome by her continuing beauty. He had often lain awake at night wondering why she had married him; it was a question that he himself could not fathom an answer to. But he realized that luck had been on his side for a long time; ever since he had become involved in the plot to re-take the Government. Maybe that luck was the reason that Laura Richmond decided to become Laura Byrne all those years ago.
"You've not listened to a word I've said have you?" Laura smiled.
"I'm sorry darling," he murmured in a quiet voice.
"What's wrong? You've seemed so pre-occupied this morning."
"You do love me don't you?" Stephen asked in a faltering voice, looking into his wife's eyes.
"Of course I do silly!" Laura smiled, "Why do you say that?"
"I just can't believe I could be so lucky."
"What's so lucky? I'm a pain in the ass!"
"You're beautiful; you're smart; and you make me feel like I am something."
"That's very sweet Stephen," Laura said, a smile spreading far across her face. She stood up and moved around to his side of the table and draped herself around her husband's shoulders, "I'm not going anywhere darling, don't worry."
"I know sweetheart," he said, squeezing her arms with his, "I know."
He couldn't see it, but her eyes showed a certain sadness. There was something behind them that was worrying her; but she couldn't show that in front of her husband. She had a secret, but she was determined to end that feeling today.
Suddenly she felt a vibration against the skin on her right arm and Stephen rushed to his feet, almost knocking his wife away. He pulled the cell-phone from his pocket and checked the caller ID before frowning.
"It's the Prime Minister. I need to take this."
Laura nodded and managed a small smile before turning away and watching her husband leave the room. She knew how important this summit would prove to be, so she didn't mind him being preoccupied over that. Suddenly her own phone began to ring; called by a number she had seen so many times lately. She looked around her and then moved towards a door at the opposite side of the room; she would need privacy for this call.
"Hey Martin,"
Laura cooed seductively, "It's a little late for you to be
calling."
"It's not late my dear, it is early. And I
needed to speak with you."
Martin's voice was deep and carried a slight German accent.
"Why do you need to speak with me?"
"Actually, I lied. I don't need to speak with you…"
"I…don't understand."
"I need to see you more than that."
Laura laughed. He had always managed to make her laugh since she had met him at one of the President's functions. He was enigmatic; and Laura still didn't really know who he was or what he did. But she didn't care; being with him made her feel young again.
"So where should I meet you?" she giggled.
"You are at the Presidential retreat aren't you?"
"Yes I am."
"Well I am at a farmhouse around ten miles down the only road out of the retreat."
"Good. Not too far away…"
"Meet me in an hour."
"Why so long?"
Martin laughed dryly, "I am a gentleman above all, my dear; I intend to give you all the time to sneak out of that prison."
"Then I'll see you in an hour," Laura smiled, twirling her stray curls with one finger.
"Yes you will."
Martin hung up, leaving Laura hanging, almost drooling, on the end of the phone. She quickly replaced the phone though, scared at who might find her like this. She would have to think up a very good excuse to get out of the retreat at this time in the morning.
2:39am Pacific Daylight Time
High Security Prison, Nevada
Officer Leyland put down the phone to his office and allowed himself a small guilty smile. He had just been contacted by his man in Texas who had informed him that Angela Bennet had been killed in a car crash just off the Imperial Highway. It was regrettable that things had to happen like this, but he had played his part. He was told that Ms. Bennet was going to blow the lid off something big, and she had to be stopped. He didn't need any incentive though; he had been a die-hard David Palmer supporter before he was so brutally murdered by Jack Bauer. He had wanted to watch that man's downfall ever since he had been transferred to his block; and now was the time. He stood up from his desk and moved to the door, almost with a spring in his step.
"Well if I got out right now, I'd go straight to a hooker and bang the living shit out of her," Snake leered in his inimitable voice. He had a heart of gold, but sometimes he could say things with such clarity. Jack had to admire him, even though the whole state of mind had started as an illusion. He had come into the cell-block with no friends and many enemies, but Snake had taken him under his wing and protected him from the other cons who just wanted to kill him. It was possibly because of Snake's staunch Republican support, but it was more because he found Jack such an interesting person. Despite not knowing his most intimate secret, he had still listened while Jack told him all about CTU, his late wife, Nina Myers, Kim and everybody who had crossed his path during his eventful life. Snake not only liked this man; he admired him.
"I don't know what I'd do if I got out. Probably wouldn't be too long before I was back in here."
"I thought you said you were innocent?"
"That doesn't matter anymore…" Jack murmured, staring into space again.
"I know exactly what you'd do with the time you had Jack."
"What's that?"
"You'd go and be with Angela and her kid."
Jack smiled a little, thinking of the small photo he had beneath his pillow of Angela and her daughter. He was always afraid to take it out in case the thoughts of his own dead daughter surfaced again. Kelly was a beautiful child, with waist length blonde hair and bright, piercing blue eyes. When he thought about her, he could see her turning into Kim when she was older. Although he wouldn't tell anyone, he dreamed of being free of prison, and moving in with Angela so he could start afresh with Kelly and give her the sort of childhood he should have given Kim. That was what he dreamed about every night.
Suddenly the peace was shattered by the cell bars sliding open as Officer Leyland entered, flanked by two wardens. Jack and Leyland stared at each other with burning hate transmitting between them. Snake could feel the tension, and despite being a hardened criminal, he wished he wasn't there.
"Good morning Jack," Leyland said in his professional manner.
"What do you want Leyland?"
"I have some news for you. I think we should speak in private."
"Whatever you have to say you can say right here."
"Very well. There was a car accident and it seems that Ms. Bennet didn't make it."
There was a certain harshness that Leyland used while revealing the information that froze the atmosphere around the whole block. Jack stared into the eyes of the Officer, not wanting to believe what he was saying. He began to rock a little back and forth, suddenly revisiting everything he felt when Teri died.
"I'm sorry Mr.
Bauer. I wish there was an easy way to tell you."
Jack's
eyes began to fill with tears, but as he tried to clear them, he
caught Warden Smart's eyes, which seemed to be motioning towards
Leyland and shaking his head slightly. The motion could have been
construed as completely innocent, but there was something in it that
stirred his emotions towards complete fury.
"You wanted her dead didn't you Leyland…"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You wanted her dead. You've wanted me dead since I got here because you think I killed David Palmer. But I didn't. And suddenly as soon as Angela got close to finding something proving that, somebody ordered her death. You ordered it, didn't you?"
"You're clearly delusional Jack…" Leyland sneered as he turned to leave.
Suddenly the rage burst out of Jack as he lunged forward and grabbed the officer, lifting him and twisting his body in mid-air before slamming him to the ground. Snake was too late to stop that attack, but he was soon grabbing at Jack, trying desperately to get him off. Warden Smart made half-hearted attempts to stop him, but eventually it was Snake who managed to physically drag the still punching and kicking Jack off Leyland. The wounded Officer spat blood from his mouth as he got to his feet, brushing his clothes and glaring at Jack who glared right back with even more intensity.
"Take the bastard to Solitary and don't let him out until his trial sends him to death row!" he yelled as he turned tail and almost ran from the room. The two wardens stood awkwardly at the cell door as Jack got unsteadily to his feet. The adrenaline was making his legs turn to jelly, and he had to move with Snake's help. But as soon as the adrenaline wore off, he was sure that the pain of losing yet another love would be much worse. There were tears in his eyes as he turned to his friend for the last time.
"Well at least I got to attack that asshole before I went…" he managed.
"Take care of yourself Jack. Do whatever they ask; they can't keep you there forever."
Jack bowed his head as Warden Smart and his colleague reluctantly escorted the broken man towards solitary confinement. One of them was radioing somebody, but Jack couldn't hear who it was; there was a constant screaming in his ears of every soul he was responsible for killing.
With the call for medical assistance dispatched, Warden Smart continued to half walk, half drag Jack Bauer towards Solitary confinement; hating that it wasn't Officer Leyland who was being confined.
2:44am Pacific Daylight Time
Los Angeles International Airport, Terminal 1
Roger stood towards the front of a fairly large check-in queue and looked towards the ceiling; enjoying the opportunity to have time in his own thoughts and not worry about his own safety. There were two groups of people ahead of him in the queue. The ones directly in front were a very large family – in size, not in numbers – dragging enormous amounts of luggage behind them. They were speaking in loud obnoxious voices, and from the large amount that Roger had overheard, he understood that they were going to Washington in the hope that they would see the President who had guided the country so well. Roger listened with contempt; firstly because it had been well publicized that the President was at his Los Angeles retreat for the G8 summit; and secondly because he knew the truth about the phony President. In his state of newfound knowledge, he suddenly realized that ignorance was bliss.
He shook those thoughts from his head and looked beyond the family to the couple in front of them. The woman was holding her boyfriend tight as they waited in the queue; as if letting go of him would be permanent. He couldn't tell if they were to be parted soon, or whether they were just completely in love. He would probably have been able to tell if he had actually experienced love. Before he went off the grid, all he had done was work for Mike most hours of every day. He hadn't had much of a social life; only people that he worked with. But that ship had sailed, and friends were now some kind of utopian dream in his mind.
The young couple moved away from the desk and he became next up after the family. The wait was beginning to get on his nerves. He had never been used to waiting anywhere for the past twelve months; he was just so used to moving from place to place without ever having any kind of aim. It was a strange feeling.
But suddenly another worker opened the desk next to the active one, and Roger found himself at the front of the queue. He sighed happily and checked-in his baggage; just wondering how easy modern life was when you weren't looking over your shoulder every five seconds.
He finished the process in a matter of minutes, and now he had an hours freedom before his flight boarded; another completely unfamiliar feeling. Just as he moved through into the departure lounge in his blissful peace, Tony and George moved into the terminal, searching around in the vain hope that they would find their target.
2:48am Pacific Daylight Time
Pasadena Freeway, Los Angeles
Angela watched the world speed by from inside the black SUV in almost complete silence. The radio was turned down to almost inaudible volumes, and the woman who had been so kind to pick her up was now silent, and had hardly said a word since they left the crash site. Angela had tried to instigate conversation, but it was fruitless. This woman was not much of a conversationalist. But when she did speak, she spoke quickly, as though she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.
"So why were you on the edge of the highway at this time of the morning?"
"I was forced off the road and my car hit a tree."
"You're lucky to be alive," the woman said in a flat voice that held no surprise over Angela's plight.
"Yeah, I guess I am," she said with a sideways glance, "Thank you for picking me up."
"You're welcome. Needed some company anyway. So why do you need to go to Paseo Plaza?"
"My office is there," Angela said, suddenly remembering that they had gone over all of this when she was picked up.
"Why do you need to go to your office?" the woman continued, unabated.
"I need a computer; I have to look up something about a client."
"Who's your client?" the woman asked, not even blinking at her direct line of questioning.
"I'm not sure that's any of your business."
"I was just asking," the woman pouted.
"Well there's some things I can't reveal to just anyone.
"Sorry for asking then," she sneered as the car became silent again. Angela began to recognize some of the landmarks of Downtown Los Angeles and suddenly realized that she was not too far away from her destination.
"I'm sorry," the woman said, "I don't mean to be obnoxious. It just comes out sometimes."
"It's alright," Angela replied, smiling to try and diffuse the tension. For the first time in the journey, she began to look around the cabin of the car and found a small crushed photo on the dashboard. It quite clearly showed the driver of the car, but the person with her was damaged and scratched. From what she could make out, the seemingly heavy-set man had his arm around the woman who was smiling sweetly.
"Is that your boyfriend?" Angela asked.
"No," the woman snapped, batting the tattered photo away with one hand, "Not any more."
"Oh…sorry…"
"Don't be. He was an idiot."
Angela's poorly chosen words produced silence again, but luckily they had reached the plaza. The woman pulled the car gradually to a stop outside the deserted mix of commercial and office structures.
"So is this it?"
"Yeah."
"You sure you'll be able to get in?"
"I part own the place. I'm sure they'll let me in."
"Alright."
"Well I guess its goodbye. Thank you for this."
"Don't mention it," she said flippantly as she watched Angela leave the vehicle.
Angela turned around one last time, only just remembering the simplest question she should have asked.
"Who did you say you were?" she said into the noise and flurry of exhaust fumes as the car sped away. She was left alone once again in the slight chill of the early Los Angeles morning. She shivered a little and pulled her overcoat further around her shoulders as she walked towards the front door of the Bennett-Armis Law building. She should have been at home in her welcoming king-size bed; although she would have still been at home, she would have been warm and comfortable. She wandered towards the automatic doors and was glad to find the lights still on. She was safe in here.
2:54am Pacific Daylight Time
Skies Above LAX
Captain Clarence Oveur kept the A380 in its circling path and waited for what would happen next. Things had spiraled out of control very quickly, and he had not been able to stop it. He eyed the radio and wondered what would happen to him if he made a mayday signal. In fact, he wouldn't even need to use the radio. There had been certain functions built into all commercial aircraft to guard against hacking, and a lot of them were various distress signals that could be sent discretely. If he put out a distress signal then the terrorists would be completely unaware…until fighter jets were scrambled to either escort or shoot down the plane; and the hijacker had made it clear that being followed would not be in the country's best interest. Suddenly the cockpit door swung open and Hawks entered, sporting a large smile.
"This plane has one of the most sophisticated auto-pilot systems in operation, does it not?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Because you'll need to implement it while you come and broadcast to the nation," Hawks said in a matter-of-fact voice.
"And what if I don't?" said Clarence, defiant.
"I'll snap your neck," he replied, unflinching.
"Seems a fair deal," Clarence sighed, knowing he had no choice.
Hawks stepped aside and let the captain past, also giving him the chance to see the well-arranged camera bank which looked like a television studio. There were lights to illuminate the 'stage' and a professional looking video camera to capture whatever it was that was going to happen. Suddenly Clarence found himself pushed forward into the blinding lights, closely followed by Hawks.
"What is this?" he asked, "What are you expecting me to do?"
"Well these cameras are going to record a video which will transmit to every news network who wants to watch. You will tell them this plane's situation, and will re-iterate that if anyone tries to interfere; we will crash this plane into LAX and kill thousands. Do you understand?"
Clarence looked beyond the 'studio' to the terrified passengers being watched over by men with guns. They had heard every word that Hawks had said, and this new information hadn't helped their moods. There were looks of terror and emotion on their faces, and he could tell that some of them had already accepted their supposed fates.
"Alright," he said quietly.
"Good. Right answer again Captain."
Hawks pushed Clarence into the camera's view and then followed again, standing facing the lens. A red light flashed on, and suddenly the camera was recording.
"Citizens of Los Angeles," Hawks began, "Most of you will still be asleep, but you may or may not wake up to devastation. We have taken control of an Airbus A380 on its maiden voyage; and if your Government doesn't comply, we will crash it into your busiest international airport. There shall be no further bloodshed if we are left alone. And just to give you things from another perspective, here's the captain of this good ship."
Hawks nodded and the camera panned towards the beleaguered captain who didn't quite know what to say. He just said what he was feeling at that point.
"I am Captain Clarence Oveur and I can confirm that what this man is saying is true. So far they have already killed one passenger, and I believe that they will kill more if we don't do as they say. I have been assured that if the Air Force does not interfere, we will land at LAX within a few hours and be let off the plane when they are satisfied with their escape plans. I urge anyone in authority who views this tape to comply with their demands; they have the power to kill thousands."
The camera panned away from Clarence towards Hawks. He looked straight into the camera and spoke his sign-off from the broadcast.
"We mean what we say; don't do anything stupid."
The camera stopped recording, bringing near silence to the airplane cabin. No-one could see it, but at that moment the video that had just been recorded was being sent over invisible waves upwards to a satellite in outer space, and then bounced back down to earth…and to every news station that could transmit it.
2:56am Pacific Daylight Time
Bennett Law, Paseo de La Plaza
Angela flicked the light switch on the office wall and illuminated the expansive, modern office. She walked slowly past the ten or so computer booths where her researchers and assistants worked towards the two walled-off offices at the end of the room where she and her partner resided. No-one was around at this time of night, only the night security guards, most of which were asleep in discrete parts of the building. Angela knew of the happenings at this time of night, but she hadn't the heart to tell anyone else. She knew most of the guards by their first names, and wouldn't dream of dropping them in it. She moved into her office and left the door open, doubting that anyone would disturb her. She powered on the computer and waited for it to be ready. She paced slowly around the room, flexing her aching neck muscles and trying to zone out from the headache that still pounded in her brain. She thought she heard a noise from the other side of the long room but thought it was nothing, and sat down in front of her computer, ready to find out everything there was to know about Roger Frederick.
Her attention was diverted again by what sounded like heavy footsteps on the expensive carpet outside, but she couldn't be sure. Then what seemed like a torch shone randomly around the room as a large looming figure stepped into the doorway, silhouetted by the darkness.
"Can I help you?" Angela asked, slightly frightened.
"I'm Officer David Graham," he said, flashing a badge quickly before Angela had time to make it out, "I understand you were in a car accident earlier?"
Angela froze, wondering how even a police officer could have known that after such a short space of time. She didn't quite know how to answer, but she didn't have to as the officer continued.
"I need you to come with me Downtown to answer a few questions about the circumstances."
There was something about this so-called officer that terrified Angela, and she knew that there were no circumstances under which she would be leaving this office in police custody.
"Fine," Graham sneered, "Have it your way," as he pulled a weapon from his holster and pointed it at Angela.
Suddenly there was a small sound of static, and the dark figure in the doorway fell. He gasped on his way down, and spun around in mid-air to view his attacker before he fell unconscious from the massive electricity of the tazer. Both he and Angela saw the woman; but only Angela knew who she was.
The woman who had picked her up vaulted Graham's prone body and grabbed Angela by the hand.
"Come on!" she yelled as she dragged her out the door and towards the exit.
"Who are you!" Angela yelled, hardly able to keep up with the clearly insane woman. She didn't reply as they ran down the eerily empty corridors towards the emergency exits, passing no security guards on the way. She suddenly feared that they may have been attacked by the same man who was about to abduct her, or maybe even by this woman who was now running away with her. She dug her heels into the ground and stopped dead, not intending to move until she got some answers.
"I don't know who the hell you are, or who that guy was…"
"He was impersonating a Police Officer in order to abduct you and kill you."
"How do you know
that?"
She didn't answer the question, she simply continued
on the same tangent, "I know that you came here to look for
information on Roger Frederick for your client Jack Bauer because you
believe that he holds information that could prove Jack didn't kill
David Palmer."
Angela froze, not knowing how to continue.
"Who are you?"
"We need to go Angela!" she yelled, pulling Angela with her.
"Who are you and how do you know so much?" she cried as she found herself moving again.
"My name is Chloe O'Brian…" the woman shouted back as they approached the front doors, escaping into the dark Los Angeles night, towards danger.
2:58am Pacific Daylight Time
High Security Prison, Isolation Wing
Jack Bauer sat crouched in the corner of his tiny solitary cell as the Doctor treating him packed his supplies away. There were guards waiting outside, but they were far enough away to be out of earshot. Dr. Benson had once worked at CTU before strangely being transferred to the same prison Jack Bauer was being held in. He was in the process of being transferred away to another prison, simply because of his history of knowing this apparently dangerous man. He had only ever done his job, and now he was being persecuted simply because he knew Jack Bauer; another person whose life was being ruined by Jack.
"Have they told you when you're being transferred?" Jack spoke in a hoarse voice.
"Not yet Jack."
"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to be persecuted and stopped from doing your job."
"I'm still doing my job Jack. And I'll be doing it just as well wherever else I go."
"But if I wasn't here then you could stay."
"But you are here…"
"I need your help."
Marc stopped packing his things away and shut his eyes, "I don't like the way this conversation's going Jack."
"Leave me enough pills to end this Marc. I have nothing left, and I finally have the chance to end things. I'm fed up with ruining lives."
"I'm not going to help you kill yourself Jack."
"So you can wait and be the one who administers the lethal injection when they find me guilty?"
Marc hadn't thought of things that way. If he was still at the prison in the coming weeks, then he would have to be the one carrying out Jack's possible death sentence. And the way it was looking, there wasn't much chance of any other outcome.
"No-one is going to blame you Marc. They're just waiting to kill me; and if any one of the inmates or wardens were in your place then they wouldn't hesitate."
Marc closed his eyes again, hoping that Jack would stop talking if he did.
"You don't even need to do it. Just leave enough pills and I'll do the rest."
"You don't understand Jack. You just don't understand."
"Please Marc. Please let me do this."
Marc shook his head and stopped packing up; simply zipping the medical bag up and moving to leave; leaving behind a small pack of unmarked white tablets.
"I'm sorry
Jack."
"Don't be sorry for this."
"I'm not…" he said, turning around and staring straight at him, "I'm sorry for what happens after."
And with that, Dr. Marc Benson was gone, and after a short pause the cell door swung shut. Jack was alone once again.
He crawled over to the bag of pills and tore it open like it was his last meal. He had been left one glass of water which was meant to last him until the next shift came in with his meal, but he would need it all right now. He poured at least ten of the pills into his mouth and drank enough water to swallow them. They glided down his throat like ice-cold beer on a warm day. But the warmth was only due to Jack's happiness at his wretched life finally ending. He piled another helping of pills down his throat as he reflected on the past. His wife had died years ago, and he had never forgiven himself for that, but he always had Kim. Until one year ago, when Kevin Cassel and his men killed her and his ex-partner, Jack had believed that life went on. But in the course of that day, he was betrayed and left for dead by people he once considered as friends. Now the only person he had left in the world was dead, and he was alone. But there was comfort in the fact that he would be joining her soon.
His vision began to blur a little as he piled the last of the pills into his mouth, swallowing them with difficulty. His throat had begun to seize up due to being overworked, and his vision was becoming patchy and blurry. If any of the guards had decided to look into the cell, they would probably manage to make him throw the pills back up before they took hold, but no-one was caring for Jack Bauer. Jagged, horrific images of his life up to that point flashed through his mind as more and more black spots clouded his vision. He felt like he was floating, and he could hardly keep his eyes open. With his last ounce of consciousness, he smirked at how quickly the pills had worked. He curled up into the fetal position, ready to die alone, just like he knew he always would.
02:59:57
02:59:58
02:59:59
03:00:00
