W/N - This is just a quick chapter, but I wanted to introduce some well-known characters to the story and weave them into the adventure. The cloak and dagger theme deepens and who do we trust?

Thank you all and I appreciate your support. :)

The Following Takes Place Between 3 p.m. and 4 p.m.

At LAX

Curtis Manning sat on his haunches and lowered his head into his hands and dug his fingers into his temples with grief. He shook his head and looked at the body one more time to prove to himself that it wasn't just a dream.

He's really dead. Mister Palmer is dead. How many times did he save us all?

Except for some debris and a few minor burns, it looked as if David Palmer were only sleeping. Curtis reached out and brushed ashes from the former President's face. Then, he lay his hand solemnly on the man's chest. "Rest in peace, Mister President," he said, choking on his words.

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Chloe. She too, looked haggard. In that moment, they just stood there and felt each others' sorrow over the loss of so great a man. Then, the area came alive as emergency personnel gathered around.

Curtis broke eye contact with Chloe and addressed the workers. "Gently, people, gently. Carry him with honor," he commanded and they lifted Mister Palmer onto a stretcher with care.

"Curtis…they need us back at CTU," said Chloe. "There's a car waiting for us."

He nodded stiffly and took one final look at David Palmer's body. "Okay, let's roll," he answered and walked over to the vehicle. He picked up a microphone and keyed it. "Bill, this is Curtis…no survivors. We have a few of the terrorists in custody and are returning now. Spin up an interrogation team…we'll need some answers."

He then jumped into the car, followed by Chloe and the driver pulled away and fell in with a convoy of CTU Suburbans.

3:06:08…09…10

Washington D.C.

Newly sworn in President Charles Logan paced nervously in the Oval Office as Advisor Mike Novik sat in a chair, looking out the window. Like the glove that was several sizes too large, the Office was far too big for Logan to fill. The President looked around the room full of his cabinet members, hoping that someone would step up and tell him what to do.

"Mister President," voiced Mike in his nasal tone, "the assassination of David Palmer is horrible tragedy and a huge threat to our national security. We have to take action."

Logan looked stunned by the words…like a deer in the headlights. Then, in a sudden reversal, he morphed into an out of control beast, slamming his fist on the table. "Don't you think I know that, Mike! But what is it that we have to do?"

Mike placed his palms out to calm the President. "Mister President, please…I've spoken with Bill Buchanan of CTU and he assures me that all of his people are on this situation. The National Guard has been put on standby should we need them."

The President seemed somewhat calmed by this, but still, he paced about, shaking his head. He looked over to his chief of security, Secret Service Agent Aaron Pierce. "How could this have happened? Who's responsible?"

Mike Novik stood and spoke calmly, "We don't have that information yet. Bill will let us know as soon as he has anything."

Then, the great doors to the Oval Office swung open and Walt Cummings took a few steps in. "Mister President…Mike…there's to be a briefing in the Situation Room in ten minutes. The Joint Chiefs will have a contingency plan."

President Logan waved his hands in the air. "Thank God someone has a clue here," he ranted as he strode away from his desk, followed by Aaron Pierce. Cummings held the door for Mike Novik and then turned off in another direction.

"I'll join you in the Situation Room," he said with a wave. He walked down the hall and turned the corner where he saw a young staffer walking toward him. With the quickest of movements, he slid a paper into the staffer's hand and turned down another corridor. The young man then walked to the White House Communications Room, where he stepped inside.

A young marine sat at the communications console, half asleep, but bolted up for the staffer. "Sir?"

The staffer motioned the marine to leave. "I have a sensitive communication that has to go out for Mike Novik. I need you to step outside."

"Sir!" the marine responded and left the room.

The staffer sat and opened the paper. He input Mike Novik's personal authorization code and then dialed in a secure frequency. "Tovarish," he said in Russian, "I am sending you information that will help the UAV avoid detection. Das Vedanya." He then pushed a thumb drive into the console and uploaded the data. When this was done, he pushed the "send" button and it was done.

He had sealed the fate of Los Angeles with one finger.

3:13:13…14…15…16