A/N: Well, judging by the comments left for this last chapter, it looks like my "terrorist video" scared a lot of you! It was modeled after videos that have been made by real-life terrorists, which are just as (if not more so) graphic, shocking, and frightening. Scary stuff!

Here's another chapter for you. Hope you enjoy! As always, I look forward to your comments and input!

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Chapter 26

Officer Kathy Reese closed the zipper on a purple backpack and handed it back to the young woman in her early twenties who waited patiently in front of her. "All right, ma'am. Here you go." She smiled slightly. "Have a good weekend."

"Thanks. You too." The girl returned her smile, picked up her bag, and walked on.

Kathy turned her attention to the next person in line. On either side of her, two other officers were carefully examining purses, laptop cases, backpacks, and other assorted bags. "Can I see your bag, please, sir?" The middle-aged businessman rolled his eyes in annoyance, but shoved his laptop shoulder bag across the table. "Sorry about this," she apologized. The man merely grunted. Satisfied, Kathy released her grip on the bag. "Okay. Here you go." Without a word, he slung the laptop case back over his shoulder and hurried away.

Officer Mark O'Hara walked briskly through the train station, his gaze traveling over the crowd of people around him as he intently studied his surroundings. He nodded politely to a young man carrying a black messenger bag with an Azusa Pacific University sticker, and waved at a blond pigtailed little girl wearing a pink Barbie backpack on her back.

The station was just as crowded as usual, but there was a definite change in the atmosphere. Everyone was well aware of the heightened terror threat level and increased security measures, and tension in the air was palpable.

O'Hara's gaze landed on a man sitting on a nearby bench. Blue jeans, black t-shirt, glasses, olive-green backpack. College student, O'Hara thought. The young man was leaning back against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankle, calmly reading a newspaper.

His head was angled so that the paper hid most of his face, but O'Hara could see that his eyes were darting from side-to-side. Either he's a super speed-reader, or he's nervous and keeping an eye out for something.

Given the current circumstances, it was perfectly reasonable for people to be uneasy and on edge. Given those same circumstances, though, O'Hara certainly wasn't going to take any chances.

He maneuvered through the crowd until he was standing alongside the bench where the man sat. The man stiffened slightly, shifting imperceptibly in his seat. He glanced briefly at O'Hara out of the corner of his eye before quickly turning his attention back to the newspaper.

Calmly, nonchalantly, O'Hara leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "Nice day, isn't it?" he asked casually. The man nodded curtly, not looking up.

O'Hara indicated his backpack. "You going home for the weekend?"

Another nod, still no eye contact.

"Taking a break from studying?" he added with a smile. "School wasn't my thing; I wasn't a good student at all. I was the typical jock. Played basketball all through high school. Do you play any sports?"

"No." The man shook his head, the slightest hint of a smile briefly crossing his lips. "My brother is the athletic one. He plays soccer. I like books, not sports."

"Well, good for you. What are you studying?"

"Chemistry," he answered.

"You like science?" O'Hara smiled. "My son does, too. He's in high school. Typical guy; he likes all the experiments with fire and chemicals." He shook his head. "Not me."

He angled his head, looking down at the front page of the paper. A photo of the bombed-out bus and debris-strewn street was splashed across the page with a bold headline: "TRANSIT TERROR: BOMBINGS KILL 85, INJURE 102."

"Tragic, isn't it?" he said grimly, indicating the article. "Just awful."

The man nodded, meeting his gaze briefly. "Yes, it's a horrible thing."

His answer came too quickly. His body language gave every indication that he wanted to be anywhere but here, and that he couldn't get away from O'Hara quickly enough.

His gaze landed on the large clock nearby, and he abruptly closed the newspaper and got to his feet. "I have to go now." He nodded towards the growing line of passengers slowly making their way through the newly implemented security check. "Really slows everything down, you know?"

O'Hara nodded in understanding. "Better safe than sorry, though, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh, of course." The young man nodded as he carefully picked up his backpack and took a step forward. "It was nice talking with you. Excuse me."

O'Hara placed a hand on the man's backpack strap, stopping him. He frowned as he felt the weight of the bag. "This is pretty heavy. What do you have in here?"

"Clothes and things for the weekend. And books. I have a big paper to write this weekend, so I went to the library." The young man made a face.

O'Hara smiled. "Mind if I take a look?" he asked.

The man indicated the security checkpoint. "The officer there already cleared me."

Oh, she did, did she? O'Hara glanced back and forth between the security checkpoint and where they stood, gauging the distance. He shook his head. I doubt it.

The man tried to sidestep around him. "Excuse me, please. I need to go before I miss my train."

O'Hara blocked his path. "The next train out of here won't be coming in for another fifteen minutes. You have plenty of time. I promise I won't take too much of your time. May I see your bag now, please?" It was an order, not a request.

The man's dark eyes flashed. "I have done nothing wrong, I assure you."

"Then why are you so nervous?"

He threw up his hands. "Everyone is nervous, Officer. The terror alert level is heightened to Red. They don't do that without a good reason, you know. People have a perfectly good reason to be on edge."

The man's eyes were darting from side to side, and O'Hara could see his hands trembling visibly. His tone was sharp, but the anger did nothing to conceal the tremor in his voice.

O'Hara shook his head. "I've been a police officer for thirteen years. I know the difference between someone who's afraid and someone who's trying to avoid detection." He took another step closer.

The man's hand drifted to the backpack strap on his shoulder and lifted it. O'Hara relaxed ever so slightly.

Then there was a faint but audible click, and the man bolted forward, knocking O'Hara aside.

No!

O'Hara reacted instantly, regaining his balance and lunging forward. In one swift movement, he drove his shoulder into the terrorist's chest like a football tackle and yanked his hand out of his pocket, hearing something small and metallic hit the floor. A sharp kick swept the man's legs out from underneath him and sent them both crashing to the floor.

The surprised and terrified passengers scattered in panic.

Footsteps pounded on the tile floor as several nearby officers descended on the scene with guns drawn.

Kathy Reese knelt to pick up the small silver cylinder as it rolled across the floor. "This was in his pocket?" O'Hara nodded, and she grimly held up the detonator for him to see.

"Help me get this thing off of him," O'Hara ordered. Moving with extreme caution, three officers gingerly eased the straps of the green canvas backpack off of the terrorist's shoulders and sat it on the floor. "Keep an eye on that detonator, Kathy."

O'Hara carefully shifted position, keeping the man pinned to the floor with a knee in the middle of his back. "Someone call CTU and let them know what's going on here."

And so it continues...TBC...

(A/N: Random note - Play reference, ahoy! "Kathy Reese" and "Mark O'Hara" were the names of two police detectives in the play that I was in at school. Decided that their names were good ones for my officers here as well.)