13: 11pm – 12am (W.E.T):
We are now past the halfway point of the story and it's only going to get better - keep the reviews coming!
DISCLAIMER: See Chapter 1
The following takes place between 11pm and 12am, Washington Eastern Time:
–
23:00:01PM
America
Following the unexpected voice-mail received on the dead woman's phone, Henderson had been spending the last few minutes looking carefully for any oncoming cars or vehicles – only there were none at all. Ever since his prison break, he'd seen just the one car and that was the stolen truck he was currently driving. At this rate, he would have to keep on driving the truck, which would potentially increase the risk of the police finding him – but then he saw a sign on the right-hand side of the road. Just half a mile ahead of him was a Denny's. A thought sprung to mind; he could hide out there for a while, provided his face hadn't been plastered across the news and refresh himself with something to eat or drink and then maybe, just maybe, he could find another vehicle and hijack that. He knew he was running the risk of not making it to DC on time, but he could possibly make up the time. He quickly picked up speed and then he finally saw it – the Denny's. Carefully keeping an eye out for any potential police cruiser, he rolled the truck into the car park and parked in the nearest available spot. Thankfully for him, there were no police cruisers. He checked throughout the passenger area of the truck to see if the woman had left any money – to his relief, he found $20 hidden within the passenger seat. Smiling, Henderson got out of the truck and walked towards the doors, opening the door and heading inside.
For a very late night, the Denny's was rather quiet – at least six of the many booths were taken whilst about four men were sat on different stools and drinking coffee. A lone waitress was behind the bar, talking with one of the men. Deciding he didn't want to attract attention, Henderson moved towards the closest available booth and sat down. A nearby waitress noticed and walked over with a smile. "Hello, lovely; what brings you here?" she asked. Henderson couldn't help but smile himself. "Just taking a food break – I'm headed to DC and I've not eaten in hours" he lied. "Smart choice – so what can I get you?" the waitress half-joked and then asked. "Oh, I'll just have a glass of orange juice and a plate of anything you're doing at the minute, please... Eliza" Henderson replied, before peering closer to the waitress so he could read her name-tag. "Of course, coming right up" Eliza agreed before heading back to towards the bar. Henderson quickly peered around carefully lifting his gun into the bottom of his shirt. Just in case. He doubted he would have to make a quick exit, but he had to be careful.
And of course, he had to find another vehicle. Which probably also meant having to get rid of one of the people in the restaurant. But for now, he wasn't going to think much about that. He had other things on his mind; namely, wondering whether or not the A.F.E had eliminated Bauer. He knew from speaking with Benediktov that they would not stop until Bauer was killed, but he was hopeful that the former CTU agent would live up to his reputation and make it to America – that way, when he eventually got there himself, he could deal the blows he wanted to and then get his vengeance against Bauer in person. Half of his vengeance plans were already in place as he had Bauer's daughter, or at least, one of his operatives had her. Now he was hopeful of finding and capturing Bauer and then avenging his father by killing him. An eye for an eye.
He could now only hope that the A.F.E had not screwed everything up.
–
White House
It had been just minutes since Kuznetsov had abruptly ended the transmission from Greenland, but the atmosphere in the main conference room where everyone was waiting was tense. "What could be taking so long?" Belcheck said out of the blue. "Relax, Belcheck. It's only been a few minutes, I'm sure he'll get back to us" McKaye insisted. "And how would you know exactly? You make it sound like you've been in private conversation with him, behind our backs!" the Serb countered. The MI-5 agent gave him an incredulous look. "Oh come on, that's ridiculous! I'm just as in the dark as you are" he replied. "But are you really? I mean, I don't even know why you're still here – you're a British national and you have no need to be involved in a matter involving America!" Belcheck replied, forcing himself upwards and slamming his palms into the table. "OK! If you must know, I'm here at the request of the President – I helped him out in trying to deal with Flight 681 and he asked me to stay on in this crisis! But we're going down that path, I could quite easily say the same about you – you're Serbian, why are you here?" McKaye retorted, his anger once again getting the better of him. Jack watched helplessly from the shadows; he wanted to try and stop the two men but he also knew the Russian they had been talking to would be back any second and on Heller's orders, he couldn't let the agent see him.
"Gentlemen, please" Heller waded in, trying to stop another argument, to no avail. The tempers that had been flaring up following the attack on the Truman were coming back with a vengeance. "I'm here... because people from my country are involved. Two people I once knew are involved. I may not be the biggest fan of this country, but I will not sit by and watch as this country is destroyed. That good enough for you?" the Serb snarled, as he and McKaye glared daggers at each other. The tension only started to subside when there was a beeping from the large screen – McKaye picked up the remote for the screen and pressed down on it. In an instance, Kuznetsov appeared on screen – looking a lot paler and looking like the blood had drained from his face. "Mr President... I apologize for having to cut you off like that. One of my men found security surveillance from one of the lower levels" he said slowly. "And? What have you found?" Heller asked. "We've found out just what this weapon Benediktov claims to have is..." the Russian continued, before inwardly gulping. "It's a submarine. A Borei-class submarine". The reactions were exactly as Kuznetsov were expecting: fear and shock. Chloe turned away very slightly whilst McKaye put his head in his left hand. Heller, however, appeared emotionless.
"I'm sorry, son. My memory is a bit foggy at the minute.. could you explain what that kind of submarine is?" he asked. Everyone around him looked in him with either shock or surprise on their face – but then they realized. The dementia was striking back. Of course, Kuznetsov had no idea of this so he just decided that Heller had probably never heard of it. "In essence, a Borei-class submarine is one of the Russian military's most advanced weapons. Unlimited range, capable of going 1,400ft below sea level and a full armament of missiles!" the Russian explained. "What can you tell us about the stolen submarine?" Belcheck asked. "It's the Yuri Dolgorukiy. One of the first Boreo-class submarines made. But I can do more than tell you – I can show you! Give me a minute" the agent said before the screen quickly went to black; when it came back, it was showing video footage of the submarine bay. At first, the footage was that of the various scientists either surrounding consoles and panels or walking around. Then two were shot in the head. The footage then cut to the Marina Cell members charging around the bay, shooting at every single scientist they could find.
With one last cut, the footage switched to the submarine in the water, partially submerged. It then charged forward and moved fully into the water. Suddenly, the wall furthest away from the security camera exploded and rocks started to fall into the water – at that point, the video ended. "That's all we really found" Kuznetsov explained as he came back into view. "You said the vessel had a full armament of missiles – what kind exactly?" Belcheck asked, though the way he said it, it could have been argued he really did not want to know. "That's the worst bit – we've checked what kind of missiles the submarine was carrying when it was docked. At present moment, it is probably carrying a full payload of 16 Bulava ballistic missiles and 6 SS-N-15 cruise missiles" the Russian replied. McKaye, whose head was still resting on his left hand, suddenly looked upwards. He turned towards Kuznetsov on the screen with shock on his face. "Did you say ballistic missiles?" he asked. "Yes.." the Rusian agent confirmed. At that, the MI-5 agent turned towards Heller. "Ballistic missiles... they can't be tracked. I think that's what shot down the plane with the Chief of Staff" he explained. "And the Truman" Chloe added, starting to piece everything together – this Benediktov had stolen the submarine, used it to attack two military vessels and was now on his way to use it against America. The hijacking of Flight 681, the submarine attack and the Russian/Ukraine attempt to kill Jack; it was all contacted! They were all part of the A.F.E's plans. But Heller's face remained blank and realizing that it was likely his dementia, McKaye turned back towards the screen. "Thank you, agent, for everything. I'm afraid we'll have to stop here; we need to figure out how to deal with this" he explained.
"I understand. I should also note, however; I have been asked to tell you that the Russian government condemns General Benediktov's actions. If there's any assistance your country needs, Russia will be more than happy to assist" Kuznetsov replied and offered. McKaye nodded. "Thank you. We'll be in touch" he said before turning off the feed and the screen. Jack reappeared from the shadows, a look of horror on his face, as everyone turned towards Heller. "It happened.. again" he said quietly, referring to his dementia. "There's no way it could have happened, sir. Besides, the way he responded, I think it's fair to say he didn't realize" Chloe assured, trying to be as passive as she could. Silence fell until Heller spoke up again. "Alright.. now we know exactly WHO is behind the attacks – the question is, what now? This submarine, can it be traced?" he asked to no-one in particular. "Impossible" Jack replied almost instantly and everyone looked up at him, almost surprised he knew. "Shortly before Belcheck and I came to London, I lived in the very east of the Ukraine – I worked with someone who had connections to the Russian mafia. Anything I wanted to know about the Russians, he got for me. And it was through him that I found out about the Borei-class submarine – the specification, the missile capability, everything".
"The Yuri Dolgorukiy, it has a caterpillar drive but one that's been modified to make it completely untraceable by sonar or radar.." he continued. Silence descended once again, as everyone took in the news. "Like a silent predator" Belcheck suggested. Jack nodded. "The Truman would never have detected it, regardless of if it was 1000 miles away or right underneath it" he replied. "So let me get this straight, Jack.. we've got a submarine being controlled by a vengeful Russian somewhere in the North Atlantic Ocean and we have no way of finding it?" Heller demanded. Jack inwardly gulped. "That's the size of it, sir, yes" he said quietly. "And what's more, this submarine is carrying missiles that we can't detect either?" the President continued. Jack nodded, albeit reluctantly. "That's the scale of it" he said. Heller slowly pulled his glasses away from his face and put his head on the tip of his fingers, shaking his head in frustration. "What options are available?" he asked. "Not much – at best, the most favourable option is to find out who ordered the hit on Hermann. Perhaps if we find them, we might find the submarine" Chloe said, not sounding as confident as she would like to be. Heller sighed and almost scoffed at the situation. "In other words, not that much. I mean, that submarine could strike at any point – we've already lost one of our own carriers AND Mike Novick. Frankly, there's not that much we can do!" he replied, though he looked up to see everyone staring at him in confusion.
"Mike Novick? Sir, the last time I checked, Mike Novick was semi-active. I've not read anything to suggest he's been killed" McKaye replied. Giving his own look of confusion, Heller stopped. The dementia – previously, it had only appeared at certain moments. Now it was appearing more frequently. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before he would be incapable of running as President. "I'm sorry.. this dementia. At this rate, I don't know what's real and what's not" he finally said. "Listen, sir.. we're all here with you. We know just what is happening. Should something happen.." McKaye insisted and Jack nodded, siding with the British agent. Silence fell once more. "Thank you, son. And thank you, all of you. But in the light of if something does happen to me, we need to be prepared. Andrew, I need you to speak to Baylis. We need to get as much of the Cabinet here as soon as possible" the President finally said. "Of course" the MI-5 agent nodded before making his way out of the room. The moment he left, Heller turned towards Chloe. "Chloe, I'm sure the cover story I ordered for you should be ready. Get working and whatever you find, tell me!" he ordered her. The former analyst simply nodded before heading out. "You two should head towards a stand-by point – if intelligence gets something, we need to be ready" he told Jack and Belcheck, the latter of who nodded. At that, both moved to leave. "Hold on a second, Jack – I just want a brief word" Heller suddenly said.
–
23:08:23PM
Jack turned his head towards Belcheck. "I'll meet you at the stand-by point" he said. The Serb, who was halfway out the double doors, nodded before leaving. "Sir?" the former CTU agent enquired, curious as to why the President had asked him to remain behind. "I've been meaning to say this since I found out you were missing, Jack.. and if I don't say it now, I'll probably forget what it is" Heller started. "Sir, honestly, I know what it's about. You blame me for what happened to Audrey and frankly, I don't blame you for thinking you.." Jack interjected, convinced Heller was going to tear into him much like he did all those years ago, following the discovery that Audrey had not been killed as first thought, but had been mentally destroyed by Cheng Zhi. "Jack... it's not that. If anything, I wanted to apologize" the President replied. Jack was almost floored. "Sir?" he asked, surprised.
"Firstly, I was wrong to blame you for what the Chinese did to Audrey – and I was wrong to call you "cursed". Even after I said it, I regretted it. I know I said I was wrong to put all of it on you at the time but really, that isn't the same. So I'm sorry on that front. And also, just to let you know, I don't blame you for Audrey's death either. Fact is, had you not resurfaced, the situation in London would have been a whole lot worse. I'd be dead, Audrey would be dead, Mark would have been dead and London could have potentially been in ruins. And as it is, while most would.. I do not hold you responsible for Audrey's death. The blame for that lies solely with Cheng Zhi" Heller finally explained, releasing the feelings he had been bottling up for nearly 12 hours. Jack was almost taken aback, not expecting the President to effectively absolve him of blame for what happened to Audrey. "I just wanted to say that now – before my memory deteriorates any further and I forget" the President added. Silence fell as Jack tried to come up with an answer. "Thank you, sir.." he said finally and quietly, unsure of what else he could really say.
Smiling lightly, Heller put his hand on Jack's shoulder. Jack looked up at him, unsure if he should say what was going to. Instead, he decided to say something else. "I give you my word, sir – we will find these terrorists and we will stop them. It's what Audrey would have wanted..". The President nodded and Jack gave a half-smile before heading out of the room, in search of Belcheck.
–
Headquarters
The door to the driver side of a truck closed and the driver started up the vehicle, whilst the passenger spoke into a radio. "But I don't understand – you said that our cover story would be done by now" the man said, confused. "So did I. But we've hit an unexpected snag, so to maintain cover, you and the other men are leaving now, but until the story is finalized, you'll be waiting at the co-ordinates we're sending to you" Evans explained, as he watched the truck's cargo door close up. "Understood – thank you, sir" the man replied, as a large metal door to the left of the warehouse was lifted up to reveal a tunnel. "Good luck" Evans said as the truck started to drive away from him and towards the tunnel. The truck vanished from view as it drove further and further into the long dark tunnel.
23:13:15PM
–
23:17:54PM
Denny's
Henderson sat in his booth, alternating between looking outside of the window and eating the plate of the Denny's "All-American Slam" - basically comprising of scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese, bacon, sausages and toasted white bread, given to him by Eliza. He picked up his glass of orange juice and downed the remains when he noticed something in the window – it was a police cruiser pulling into the parking lot. A lone male officer got out and headed towards the door. Not wanting to gather suspicion, Henderson simply continued eating, though he heard the door open. From the corner of his eye, he saw Eliza look up and smile. "Hey, Don! Haven't seen you in a while" she said. "Well, you can blame my new Captain for that – he somehow convinced the Police Commissioner in New York to start up some exchange programme and send officers from one state to another. Guess who got sent to Colorado?" the officer, known only as Don, said. "Ouch! That sucks. Surely it wasn't that bad?" Eliza replied.
"It was. Never been so frustrated in my life – the officers were boring, the crimes non-existent and the milkshakes at the Denny's... less said, the better!" he replied, sounding bored as he spoke. "Ah well, can't help that. Fancy the usual?" the waitress offered. "Yeah, go on; have to keep my energy going! I'm heading back to New York as we speak, but driving to a friend's house in DC – he offered me a rest-stop" Don explained. Convinced the officer was not looking for him, Henderson would have stopped listening to what the officer was saying but his mentioning of "driving" and "DC" had caught his interest. And a thought immediately sprang to mind – a risky thought but one that stuck with him, so it must have been good. If he could somehow knock out the officer without anyone realizing, then he could take his uniform and drive his police cruiser towards DC. Besides, no-one would suspect a thing – not to mention that the officer had a story in that he was driving to DC that would surely be supported by others.
But he could see that the officer was going to be in the Denny's for some time, as Eliza was by the milkshake bar; he would have to bide his time before making his move. No point in arousing suspicion when there was no real need to.
–
Headquarters
"..I've instructed the driver to wait at nearby co-ordinates until the cover story is finalized" Evans reported over the radio to Walkman, who was sitting cross-legged on the sofa in her office. "Fair enough – what's happened with the cover story? Why was it delayed?" the female President asked. "At present moment, it looks like some kind of clerical error. But it's being sorted as we speak" the aide replied. "Ok, make sure it is. If we're gonna keep Benediktov in the dark, we have to do this within two hours" Walkman ordered as she spotted the door opening and a young bespectacled man popped his head through. "Sorry to interrupt, Ms Walkman, your daughter is right outside" he explained. She mouthed "one second" as she put her phone back to her ear. "I'll contact you as soon as I can and failing that, contact me when the group are at their target" she said as she hung up. As she looked up, the door was opening and a young teenage woman came up, clutching a backpack and suitcase. She smiled as she saw Walkman. "Mom!" she said as she effectively released the hold on her suitcase, allowing it to fall to the ground, whilst Walkman got up and embraced her daughter in a hug. "I'm sorry I couldn't come get you in person, Heather. Things have been a bit manic" she explained. "Ah, don't worry, mom. These things happen" the girl, called Heather, insisted.
As Walkman led her towards the sofa, the young girl quickly looked towards her. "What were you talking about on the phone, a group reaching its target?" she asked. Walkman looked at her, surprised at her choice of question, before smirking. "Ah, it's nothing to worry about, sweetie. Just some surveyors doing a job for me" she lied, covering the truth. Only Heather didn't look convinced. "Surveyors? Mom, it's nearly half 11 at NIGHT!" she replied. "It's a special kind of survey – one that you can only get from night-goers" Walkman continued to lie. As the two sat down, she continued. "Besides, you don't want to know anything about that – I'd rather we focused on how you've been. And from what you told me, I thought we were going to cut your hair before you came here" she'd only said that in the hopes that her daughter would drop the subject. But it didn't work, as Heather looked at her mother with an unimpressed look on her face. "You're lying to me again, aren't you?" she said, anger in her voice. "No, no.. honey, I'm not. You know I'd never hit anything from me" Walkman insisted, realizing what might happen. "You are! Mom, just admit it – you're hiding something from me! That's why you sent me to that clinic in the beginning" Heather snapped, interrupting quite abruptly "That is not why you went to the clinic – I am not hiding anything from you.." her mother replied in a bid to stop what was coming. But it didn't work.
"YOU BLOODY WELL ARE! FOR GOD'S SAKE, MOM, WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? WHY DO YOU FEEL THE NEED TO CONSTANTLY LIE TO ME? ARE YOU ASHAMED OF ME, IS THAT WHY YOU LIE?!" the teenager suddenly yelled, part of her small rant being heard by the bespectacled young man outside, who almost flinched at what he heard. "Heather.." Walkman started. "Don't you "Heather" me, Mom! WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? I'M YOUR DAUGHTER, YOUR ONLY FLESH AND BLOOD; WHY DO YOU FEEL THE NEED TO CONTINUALLY KEEP THINGS FROM ME?" the teenager roared, before she turned around to face the wall and slammed her knee into it. "I HATE BEING KEPT IN THE DARK!" she said, slamming her knee into the wall multiple time, before being forcibly grabbed by the shoulders and turned around to face her mother. "Listen very closely – I am NOT keeping anything from you. You're right, you are my only flesh and blood and I am not keeping anything from you, I'm not hiding anything, I'm not covering anything up! You know me Heather Jasmine, am I one to keep secrets from you?" Walkman said quietly and calmly. Heather fought about it for just a few seconds. "You have before.." she said.
"To protect you, sweetheart! I care a lot about you and if I was lying to you, I would tell you straight away, I promise!" Walkman protested, hoping that her words were getting through. And it seemed that they were, as Heather bit her lip. "Have you been taking your mood stabilizers?" she continued, starting to question what the root of the problem may be. "I ran out before the plane took off" the young girl admitted. "Why didn't you tell anyone? Someone could have got you a new prescription" Walkman asked. "Because I feel embarrassed talking it, Mom! I feel embarrassed that I have this disorder... I feel embarrassed that I'm an inconvenience to you!" Heather finally admitted and would have probably gotten angry again had Walkman not grabbed her shoulders. "You are NOT an inconvenience! The fact is, sweetheart... the only reason I sent you to that clinic is because... because I've been really busy. This past month has been a complete blur, I've been working that hard. But all for you" she explained. "What do you mean?" Heather asked, confused. "Well.. let's just say that what I'm doing, what I've been doing for the last month, I'm getting to get a lot of money from it. Enough for us to make a fresh start" Walkman explained, smiling by the end. Heather's eyes rose in shock and then she looked away, almost embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I guess..." she started, only for her mother to interrupt. "Heath, you've nothing to be sorry for. This is what it does to you – one minute, you feel like you're full of energy and the next minute, you just don't know what will happen" she insisted, smiling at the end. As Heather turned to the side, Walkman decided on what to do. "I'm gonna call the medical clinic downstairs – I want you to get down there, get some rest" she decided. Heather turned around in shock. "Mom, I only just got here! Why can't I stay up here with you?" she said, sounding upset. "I know, but... what I've got to do up here is extremely important. It's gonna last through the night and I need focus. However, once it's done, that's it – I'll be able to spend my time with you and you only. Besides.. we have a plane to catch at 9am tomorrow. I'd rather you got some sleep" her mother replied, grabbing her hands tight as she spoke. Heather thought it over before nodding. "Alright" she conceded. "Thanks, sweetie. MACK!" Walkman said before turning to in front of her door and shouting. The bespectacled young man poked his head around the door. "Yes, Ms Walkman?" he asked. "Contact the clinic, ask Dr Fremason to come up here – I'm gonna need him for a few hours" she ordered. "Of course, ma'am" Mack nodded before disappearing once again. Walkman smiled at her daughter and pulled her into a hug. "I promise you, darling – once I'm done, that's it. No more work, no more clinics, just you and me. Ok?" she said. Heather smiled.
–
23:26:15PM
White House
"Please tell me you're joking, Mr Secretary!" McKaye said as he walked through the hallways of the White House. "I'm afraid not, Agent McKaye" a male voice said over the phone
–
Sea of Japan
Overflying the Sea of Japan was a Boeing C-32, a modified version of the Boeing 757 and used by the United States Air Force to carry members of either the Presidency or members of his cabinet to various locations around the world – onboard this C-32 was the Secretary of State and now in essence the second-in-command behind President Heller, Michael Gerrard. "As it is, I won't be back in DC for another 12 hours. At least!" Gerrard said, as he moved through the plane and towards his seat. "So there's no way at all you can speed up your flight? As it stands, things here are in a state and if we're not careful, I wouldn't put past something happening to the President!" the MI-5 agent said, getting more and more frustrated at what he considered to be a passive attitude from the Secretary. "Mr McKaye, calm down. This kind of thing is expected in recalling the Cabinet – really, what's the worst that can happen?" Gerrard insisted. McKaye sighed; he really did not want to say this but now he felt that he had no choice. "We've identified the man who we think is behind the attacks – and quite frankly, I wouldn't rule out him trying to shoot you down" he said sternly.
Gerrard looked a bit surprised by what the MI-5 agent had told him. "And why's that?" he said, no longer with a dismissive tone of voice. At first, there was no immediate reply. "The man behind the attacks.. he's taken control of a Borei-class submarine that's armed with about 16 ballistic missiles and another 6 cruise missiles" came the reply. The Secretary fell silent and almost dropped his phone – he appeared deep in thought and McKaye waited patiently for a response as he walked before stopping outside the Oval Office. "I'll speak with the pilots, see if we can speed up the flight. Whatever you do, Mr McKaye... KEEP THE PRESIDENT SAFE! No matter what happens!" Gerrard finally said before hanging up abruptly. At that, McKaye snapped his phone shut and walked into the Oval Office, where Baylis and Heller were in discussion. Heller looked up. "What did Michael have to say?" he asked. "It's not good, Mr President. The Secretary of State said he won't be able to get to DC for at least another 12 hours" the MI-5 agent admitted. Baylis looked at him in shock. "12 hours? Is there no way he could get here faster?" he asked. McKaye shook his head. "He said he would try and talk with the pilots but worst case scenario, he wouldn't be in DC until after 11am" he said. He was then about to ask if whether the National Security Advisor had spoken with the remaining Cabinet members, only for him to notice Baylis's almost disappointed face. "Have you spoken with the rest of the Cabinet?" he asked slowly.
"Not quite all of them, but a good portion of them – and as it stands, the first member of the Cabinet to make it back here is in fact going to be the Secretary of State!" Baylis explained and McKaye gave a face of bewilderment. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Every single Cabinet member we've spoken to, Andrew, is on their way back here. But many of them have been delayed because of the submarine threat – as it stands, should something happen to me, there's no-one immediate to take my place!" Heller said. Deep in vote, McKaye turned away slightly, before realizing. "What about the Speaker of the House of Representatives? He's directly below the Vice-President, isn't here?" he asked. Baylis shook his head. "We've only just found out that the Speaker has been reported missing – he never showed up at the US Capitol this morning; police are looking for him" he revealed. "The pro tempore of the Senate?" the MI-5 agent replied. "He was on the helicopter carrying the Vice-President when it was shot down. As it stands, Michael Gerrard is next in line should anything happen" Heller explained. The look that the stunned McKaye gave looked like that of a deer in the headlights. "As it stands, we're on our own. Worst case scenario, the Secretary of State returns to a city in chaos" Baylis declared.
Almost on the other side of the White House, Jack had located Belcheck and both were waiting in what looked like a stand-by room. At first, they were sitting in silence. "What did Heller want to say to you?" Belcheck suddenly asked. Jack looked up, very slightly surprised. "He wanted to apologize to me.. something that happened nearly a decade ago" he said. "To do with Audrey?" the Serb continued. At that, Jack would have probably told him he didn't want to talk about it, mainly because of the memories it brought up, but he figured perhaps telling someone might make things easier to accept. "Yeah. Yesterday was the first time we spoke to each other in nearly 10 years – we didn't exactly depart on the best of terms. He wanted to apologize to me before his memory deteriorated too much. And to tell me he doesn't blame me for what happened in London" he said. Belcheck rose an eyebrow. "Why would he? You didn't kill Audrey, the Chinese did!" he pointed out. "Yeah, but I was the one who resurfaced. In saving the President, some would argue that my actions led to her death!" Jack pointed out. "But he just said he doesn't blame you. The way you're talking, you're sounding like he does" Belcheck argued, confused as to why Jack was seemingly blaming himself even when Heller had already absolved him of responsibility for what happened to Audrey.
"He doesn't – I'm just saying that whilst others might, he doesn't blame me" the former CTU agent insisted, his voice hinting he'd like to change the subject. Sensing this, the Serb decided to talk about something else. "What are you going to do once this whole thing is over?" he asked, remembering how Heller had given Jack a pardon for what happened in New York. Of course, this was what Jack had contemplated telling Heller when the two had spoken previously; here, he decided to admit the truth "As soon as this is done, I'm getting out the country" he finally said quietly. Belcheck looked at him in surprise, not expecting that. "I may be a free man here, but the fact is, I'm still a fugitive in the eyes of Russia. If they find out I'm still here, I wouldn't put it past them to declare war against this country just to get to me – I'm not gonna let that happen" Jack continued. "What about Kim?" the Serb pointed out. There was a cold, long silence before the former CTU agent looked at him. "I'd rather Kim had no idea I was here. I'm gonna help the White House through this and then I'm leaving, end of" he said firmly.
Realizing the whole situation was a bit sensitive, Belcheck decided to leave it at that – but inside, he couldn't help but feel worried. He'd know Jack a few months but he knew just how much of a troubled life he'd had. If only there was a way to make things better.
23:29:38PM
–
04:33:53PM
North Atlantic Ocean
The Yuri Dolgorukiy continued moving at speed through the dark depth of the ocean – inside, at the main control panel, Aralica and Chadli were maintaining the vessel's speed and control when one of the buttons started flashing. Checking the submarine's location against a map, Aralica quickly realized and spoke into his head-set. "General, come in please!" he said rather loudly. There were a few seconds of dead air. "You called, Aralica?" Benediktov finally replied. "YES! We're at the half-way point; we're about to turn towards the East Coast of America! Thought you want to know" the Croatian explained. "You thought correctly, I'm on my way to the bridge" the Russian declared before removing his own head-set and handing it to Krylenko. "I'll be back in 10 minutes, keep monitoring intelligence" he ordered the Ukranian as he headed towards the nearest stairs.
Dragusha had been spending the last hour listening to chatter and intelligence in the hopes of figuring out what might have happened to Eastern Cell, only to hear a noise. He looked up to see Divjak motioning him over to a private part of the submarine. "I'll be back in a second, Krylenko" the Albanian said as he took his head-set off and walked towards where the Bosnian was starting. As soon as he was sure they were not being listened to, he spoke. "What's up?" he asked quietly. "It's the General.. something doesn't seem right about him" Divjak replied. "He's been up for almost a day, Divjak; cut him some slack if he keeps yelling at you" the Albanian pointed out. "IT'S NOT THAT!" the Bosnian hissed quietly. "Well what then? You're being rather vague!" Dragusha retorted. Divjak sighed and pulled a neatly folded white sheet of paper from his pocket, handing it to the Albanian. "I was in the communication room, trying to see if they'd recorded any form of intelligence – I didn't find anything like that, but I found records of conversations between Benediktov and some strange woman from about three hours ago.." he explained as Dragusha opened up the sheet of paper and started to scan it. To his surprise, it was in-fact recorded details of a phone call that Benediktov had made to some unidentified person.
"We will have time to mourn for those who have lost once the mission is complete. Talking of which, how far are you from the East Coast?"
"About nine or so hours. So far, we've not encountered any problems; even when we tested out that Bulava missile on that military plane"
"Excellent. Call me as soon as you're within three hours of reaching land for an update"
"Of course, Melina"
The Albanian looked up with a look of surprise. "And there's more – I delved some research into this Melina and found out she could well be Melina Dimitrijevic" Divjak explained, which sent Dragusha's eyebrows raising. "You're joking?" he said. "To be honest, I wish I was. But then I found out something a bit surprising – I've got a contact in the Serbian mob and she says Dimitrijevic is dead; has been for months!" the Bosnian revealed. "You've been in contact with outside forces?!" Dragusha hissed in shock and bewilderment. "Yes.. but the fact is, if Dimitrijevic is dead, then who has the General been talking to? What if he has been talking with an imposter, someone who could tell President Heller our plans?! He has to know!" Divjak countered in protest. Dragusha sighed and slapped his hand against his forehead. "I appreciate it does sound suspicious but frankly, the evidence you have is flimsy at best! General Benediktov will not just rip it up but he'll have you crucified for talking to someone on the outside, regardless of if they were telling you the truth or not!" he declared.
"So what do you suppose I do? Keep quiet and watch as the Americans locate us?" Divjak suggested sarcastically. "Not at all – but if you want to get the General to listen to you, you need more evidence! Keep looking into this and try and get his attention with something a bit more concrete, ok?" Dragusha offered. Finally, his words got through as the Bosnian nodded. "Not a word of this to anyone" Divjak ordered. "Of course, I'll keep this secret" the Albanian agreed. "Dragusha!" Krylenko called and he turned around. "One second!" he said before exchanging a nod with his fellow Marina Cell member and heading back to where the Ukrainian national was waiting. Suddenly, the submarine surged to the right and Divjak had to force his hands against the wall to stop himself from losing balance – as it was, however, the submarine was merely turning to the right. "We are now on a direct course with Washington DC – ETA, 7am!" Aralica told Benediktov, who nodded smugly.
–
Washington DC
The man that had spoken with Evans in the headquarters' warehouse jumped out of the truck as the driver walked towards the back of the truck, having parked in the middle of a large abandoned industrial site. As the driver pressed down on a brick-like console, which enabled the cargo door to lift up, the first man pulled out his radio and spoke into it. "We are at the co-ordinates; how much longer until the cover is in place?" he said, having suddenly switched to Russian. "Give us another half-hour. Just be ready to move to the target" the voice on the other end ordered, also speaking in Russian. "Why are you speaking in another language?" the driver asked, slightly confused, as the truck door opened up, revealing another eight men as well as several boxes inside. "Orders of the President's aide – if we're being spied on, we have to throw our opponents off the scent. And by the time they figure out what's happening, it'll be too late" the first man said, reverting back to English. The driver simply nodded as he helped the men in the back of the truck out into the open.
–
Denny's
Henderson had long-finished his meal, but continued to sip at his remaining orange juice as he kept a close eye on the police officer not too far away from him – sooner or later, he had to pounce. And thankfully, it seemed the officer was almost done, having spent the last 20 or so minutes either drinking his milkshake or exchanging conversation with Eliza. "Lovely as always, E – I'm gonna hit the men's room and then make my exit" he said, as she emptied his glass. "Lucky for some, Don; I'm still on shift for another hour" the waitress bemoaned, though her smile reappeared as the officer left her a $20 bill. "Keep the change" he said, before walking to his right and towards the men's toilets. As soon as he disappeared, Henderson downed the remaining bits of orange juice and got up, taking two $20 bills from his pocket and throwing them onto the empty plate. He walked towards the bathroom, almost un-noticed by everyone else in the restaurant and walked in. He headed towards the sink area and started to run the taps, splashing water onto his hands and throwing them onto his face – before he noticed he couldn't immediately see the officer. Biting his lip, he then heard the sounding of a toilet flushing. He sighed in relief as one of the cubicle doors open and the officer emerged.
Henderson finished cleaning himself up and grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser. "Where you headed then?" the officer suddenly asked and Henderson looked around, feigning surprise. "Oh, only DC. I'm heading there for a conference" he lied. "Really? I'm headed to DC as well!" the officer said, rather surprised as Henderson walked away from the dispenser. "If you don't mind my saying, you don't quite look like someone going to a conference.." he continued, not looking up from washing his hands. This turned out to be a fatal mistake as Henderson, with a spare paper towel in hand, thrush the towel over the officer's mouth and got a hold around him. At first, the officer tried to wrestle with him, but finally, Henderson's grip won out and the officer fell to the floor, knocked out. Searching around his gun holster, he quickly found the keys to the police car and stuffed them into his pocket. After some thought, he decided to take his gun – he might run into trouble and one gun may not be enough. Quickly looking up at the door, he slowly walked towards it and peered outwards to see if anyone was coming; there was not. Fully opening the door, he walked outwards and was almost out the door when he heard someone calling.
"Wait!" Henderson turned around to see Eliza walking up. "You paid too much; you didn't need the second $20" she said, holding the bill and several bits of change in her hand. "Don't worry – call the $20 your tip" he insisted, smiling but inwardly hoping he could get out of here within one or two minutes. "You sure?" the waitress asked, a little unsure. "Absolutely; you deserve it!" he again insisted. Finally, the waitress smiled. "Thanks. Enjoy your drive to DC!" she said before heading back to behind the bar. At that, Henderson headed back and into the cold dark night. Carefully ducking down to avoid being immediately spotted, he made his way to the driver's side of the police car and opened up the door. Taking his seat, he placed everything on him on the passenger seat and closed the door. After a quick look in the rear-view mirror to ensure no-one was watching him, he started up the car and rolled forward down a slight embankment, before heading back down the road he had been driving down before-hand.
Inside, however, Eliza looked up and was surprised to not see the police car. Her surprise gave way to confusion – the only person to have left the restaurant in the last few minutes was that unnamed man, so why was he driving the police car? Come to think of it, he'd gone into the men's bathroom AFTER the officer had and the officer hadn't come out. "I'll be back in a minute!" she told the other waitress, before coming out from behind the bar and walking towards the men's toilet – she'd not even walked straight in before she spotted the officer's unconscious body. "DON!" she cried, running towards him and kneeling down in an effort to wake him up. Slowly but surely, the officer stirred. "Where am I? What happened?" he slurred, before he felt around his holster. "My car keys! They're gone!" he realized, now fully awake before forcing himself up and running out of the bathroom, Eliza in hot pursuit. "Eliza, what's going on?" the second waitress asked as she saw her colleague following Don out of the restaurant. "I'll explain in a minute!" Eliza replied as she slammed the door open and spotted her friend starting in front of where his car had been parked.
Don quickly turned around. "Eliza, do you know who took the car?" he asked. "No.. I only saw the car being driven away and I went to find you. I don't know which way it went!" she protested. Don jumped down the embankment and looked both ways – there was no car to be seen. "Can't you radio it in?" she suggested and Don searched around for his radio, only he couldn't find it. "He's taken my radio!" he realized. Indeed, sitting on the passenger seat of the police car was his radio and Henderson smiled slightly, mainly out of relief that the plan worked.
–
23:43:58PM
White House
The phone on Heller's desk started to ring and the President picked up. "This is Heller" he answered. "Sir, it's Agent Polston. I think we have a lead!" Polston explained. "Go on!" Heller said, almost instantly. "I just got off the phone with a contact at NCIS – one of their agents was monitoring intelligence and she picked up something. Might be nothing, but she heard what sounded like Russians discussing something about a "cover" and a "target"" the agent revealed as he walked through the hallways of the House. "Whereabouts was this heard?" Heller asked. "We narrowed it down to an industrial park about 10 minutes from here. I think it's worth checking out!" Polston continued. "I'll get someone on it, thank you son" the President agreed before hanging up.
In the stand-by room, Jack was looking outside of a window when his phone started to ring. "This is Bauer" he said, answering before the phone had a chance to complete a second ring. "Jack, we might have something" Heller replied as Jack motioned Belcheck over. "One of my agents was contacted by a source of his at the Navy Yard – he says we might have a lead. Apparently, there might be European nationals at an industrial park not far from here and they might be planning something" the President continued. "The person who reported it, are they verified?" Jack asked, a little unsure as it sounded a bit far-fetched. "It came from the Navy Yard, Jack – I doubt they'd report it if they didn't believe it" Heller pointed out. "Ok, I'm on it!" the former CTU agent agreed, only for Belcheck to grab his hand. "Mr President, it's Belcheck – to be honest, I think I should investigate this alone!" he declared. Jack and Heller both gave looks of confusion. "I'm not too sure that's a good idea!" Heller said. "Yeah, I agree with the President on this – it's too dangerous to check it alone" Jack backed up. "I need to check this alone, I'm not putting anyone else in danger!" the Serb countered. "By going it alone, you're putting yourself in danger unnecessarily! You need backup" the former CTU agent protested.
"I have to do this alone, there's no other choice!" Belcheck said, rather insistently. Before Jack could fire back, Heller intervened. "Hold on a second!" he said as loudly as he could, which was thankfully enough for Jack to hear. "Sir?" he asked. "Put me on with Belcheck" the President ordered. Jack silently handed the phone to Belcheck. "Ok, let me get one thing clear – why do you want to do this alone?" Heller asked. "It's simple, sir – I'm Serbian. As we've figured out so far, it's likely the people behind the attacks are from European countries. If I go alone and this threat turns out to be real, then I could infiltrate the group and relay what they're planning!" the Serb explained. Jack wasn't convinced. "Sir, it's Jack. I'm not convinced – something about this doesn't seem right" he spoke into the phone. Heller thought about it for a few seconds. "As it stands, I'm more leaning towards Belcheck – it's worth a shot, Jack! And besides, if he does go on his own and it turns out to be nothing, you'll still be here in case something else comes out!" he decided, having been convinced by the Serb's argument.
Jack nodded. "Yes, sir" he said. "I'll order for a car to be ready and for the exact details to be relayed" Heller added. "Of course, Mr President" the former CTU agent said before hanging up. He looked towards Belcheck. "You sure you want to do this?" he asked. "Yes" the Serb nodded confidently. "Right, be one second" Jack replied, as he moved towards a cupboard and opened it, pulling out a small suitcase.
23:47:42PM
–
23:53:14PM
Washington DC
Belcheck was now on the roads of DC, driving away from the White House – owing to the state of emergency, the car that Heller had ordered for the Serb was ready at the front within just two minutes of the order. He'd left the premises at 23:49, which meant that he'd make it to the industrial park just minutes before midnight. "Try tuning your radio until you find the frequency they might be using. The agent at NCIS reported that the frequency she was on was 386MHz or thereabouts" McKaye suggested over the phone. "Roger that" the Serb confirmed. "And one more thing – try and keep your contact with us to a minimum, just in case you do have to go undercover" the MI-5 agent added. Belcheck resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You can relax, Agent. I've done this before – it's not like I'm gonna go rogue and turn against you!" he replied. At that, McKaye did roll his eyes. "I guess that's true – but still, take care" he insisted. "I will!" the Serb replied, before hanging up and leaning towards the radio given to him, shifting the frequency.
In a private part of the White House, meanwhile, Chloe was hard at work – as instructed by Heller, she was looking for information that might link anyone in DC, but particularly anyone in the government, to the terrorists. It was becoming increasingly clear that the so-called "A.F.E" had allied themselves with people inside the capital city with the only setback being that she didn't know where to start. As such, she decided to delve into what there was of the "A.F.E" - and she was able to find a website with details about it. Wasn't the most traceable as it was under a false name but she found it, containing propaganda videos, photos of an A380 plane, photos of a missile and much more. But nothing linking back to possible suspects. Frustrated, she minimized the tab and started to look for something else – and then she found something. She'd intended to go on another website but a mis-click had taken her onto a police website; she was about to go back onto the search engine but something caught her eye. It was a report of a missing person, a Doctor Colin Fremason, who had last been seen nearly 12 hours ago. Clearly this Doctor Fremason was known to Chloe as her face turned into a frown. "Colin?" she said and she followed the link onto what looked like a missing person's section of the site.
There, she found about 11 more people who had been reported missing since 12pm Washington time – including a Marek Styzko. And there was a link that bought all these people together.. their last known location was at a large industrial complex about 15 minutes away from the White House. Looking up the location, Chloe then found something else – the site was owned by a company called Guardstrom, which specialized in weapon development. And the president of the company was a woman called Jordan Walkman. Intrigued by what she had found out, the former analyst delved further and further into the website.
–
Headquarters
Looking at the body of Heather, fast asleep on a clinic bed and in a separate room, was a tall doctor. He was just turning out the lights to the room when he heard the door open behind him – coming into the clinic was President Walkman. "She asleep?" she asked, indicating Heather. "Yeah; she did have a bit of a mood swing, but she calmed down once she had a dose of stabilizers" the doctor confirmed. Walkman nodded and there was a deadly silence. "How long has she had the Bipolar diagnosis?" he asked suddenly. Walkman looked up, not expecting the question. "About 10 years – there are good and bad days, no real in-between if I'm honest" she said, crossing her arms. "Bipolar is not something you can really control. I'm hoping the new prescription will give her more control" the doctor added. Walkman rose an eyebrow. "You gave her a new prescription?" she asked. "Yeah, I know she has a current one but I think this one could work" he admitted. "Oh. Ok. I appreciate that, Colin, thank you" the President said, sounding grateful.
The doctor, now identified as Colin and therefore Dr Fremason, noticed something didn't seem right with the female President. "Is everything ok, ma'am?" he asked. "Yeah, yeah.. I'm just tired. I've been up since 4am" Walkman insisted. "Maybe you should get some rest – I can prep a bed for you" Fremason offered. "NO! No, it's ok, Colin. Thank you. But I'll only rest as soon as the job is done – a lot has gone into today. I can't afford to stop" she insisted, before promptly leaving. A bit taken aback by the President's attacks, Colin headed back towards his desk and towards his computer. "A bit strange – why would she be so scared to not rest over something like drug manufacturing?" he thought to himself as he closed down his emails.. only just missing an email coming in from the Washington Police Department, which had a subject matter of "Missing Man: Colin Fremason".
–
23:57:34PM
Industrial Park
Waiting by the side of the truck was the man Evans had been talking to, his radio in his right hand. He carefully looked around the park, trying to figure out where the target was, when the radio buzzed to life. "Is everyone ready?" the voice from earlier asked, again speaking in Russian. "Yes – we are currently waiting for the cover story" he replied, also in Russian. "Well fear no more; the cover story has finally been completed!" the voice, who turned out to actually be Evans, replied. "As it stands, you are heading to the target as a maintenance crew; you are required to make repairs to one of the underground tunnels!" he continued, none of them aware that they were being listened to by Belcheck – and one of the languages the Serb was fluent in was Russian so he was able to understand what they were talking about. "Just to confirm, you have the co-ordinates?" Evans continued. "Affirmative – 38,53,23,24. Not that that will mean much to the Americans, of course!" came the response. Confused, the Serb picked up his PDA as he drove as quietly as he could into the industrial park, not wanting to be spotted.
He typed in the numbers 38, 53, 23, 24and pressed enter as he parked behind a truck trailer – picking up his gun and the PDA, the Serb then made his way out of the car, only to be stopped by a rather unusual part of conversation. "I take it the President has not figured it out yet?" one person asked. "That's a negative. It won't be long before he does but sooner or later, he'll make the connection that you and everyone else who's a part of the next few attacks are in fact the prisoners whose release he ordered!" Evans replied. Belcheck stopped, shocked – he'd heard something about a Statewide Cell being a part of the A.F.E, but he had no idea that the prisoners that Heller had ordered to be released from prisons across the country were in-fact Statewide Cell! With this knowledge, the Serb quickly moved away from the car and hid behind another truck trailer, quickly spotteing a smaller truck parked not too far from him. "We move out in five minutes – it will take 15 minutes to get there and we need time to set up before the ruse is discovered! Understood?" the driver explained, now speaking American and with an American accent.
Belcheck was even more confused. "As it stands, if we ruin this chance, we ruin our chances of striking at the heart of the Presidency!" the driver continued. The Serb quickly felt the PDA vibrating and looked at it to notice that its co-ordinates search was complete. He looked over them, then froze. His blood ran cold. He was looking at the co-ordinates for the National Mall, right near the White House. And to make matters worse, the exact target... was the United States Capitol.
12:00:00AM
What do you think will happen next? Will Belcheck be able to warn the White House without giving himself away? Rate and review!