Hey, thanks again to everyone that reviewed the last chapter. Hope you're all still enjoying the story.
On the CD player this week has been Neal Casal Basement Dreams, Drive-By Truckers Decoration Day and John Mayer Any Given Thursday
Chapter Twelve
"Shit."
The driver stood hard on the brakes, wrenching the wheel, dragging the van away from the burning wreckage. They heard a series of smaller sounds, almost drowned out by the sound of flames.
The van skidded, violently, tearing up great swathes of loose dirt as it left the highway.
He fought to control the skid, eventually forcing the van to a stop, smoke spewing from the tyres, mingling with flames from the burning van. He tried not to think about how many of his friends and colleagues had just died.
He slumped back in his seat, trying to ease the tension out of his arms, breathing heavily. "Is everybody okay?"
The radio crackled into life. "Delta One, this is Delta Three. What the hell just happened?" The remaining van pulled to a stop beside them. "Is everybody there okay?"
"Delta Three, Delta Two just exploded." Tom looked around, looking into the rear of the van, where the rest of his team were picking themselves up, examining themselves for injuries. "Think everybody's okay, just cuts and bruises. Did you see what happened?"
There was silence for a few seconds.
"Potter thinks he saw some sort of residual flash just before Delta Two exploded." There was another brief hesitation. "Do you think any of our guys made it out?"
"No. They wouldn't have had a chance. We're going to try and get moving again. We're sitting ducks out here."
The driver turned the key and the van rumbled unsteadily forward. In the calm, now controlled silence, they could hear the flap of shredded rubber.
"That's a negative Delta One. Your tyres are blown as well. Must have been shrapnel from the explosion."
The driver punched the dashboard in frustration then killed the engine. Tom shook his head. "More likely it was part of a trap."
"What do you want to do?"
Tom thought quickly. "We'll have to do a switch. Fredericks has to think that van der Melde is on his way to Los Angeles. Pull around behind us, and we'll open both sets of doors, use them as cover."
"Copy that."
The other van spun into motion, turning quickly until the rear doors were facing each other.
Slowly, carefully, they opened the rear doors. Swinging them out until they formed a shield. A member of Delta Three jumped down to the ground, glass and gravel grumbling beneath his heavy boots.
A precision shot slammed into the van's bullet proof window.
He ducked back inside the van, his retreat covered by other members of the team. Trying to keep their attackers pinned down with automatic gunfire, adding gunpowder and gunfire to the smells and the sounds around them.
Tom lifted the radio again, trying to find an angle for a shot. "Delta Base, this is Delta One." He ducked as a bullet slammed into the frame of the door. "We're under attack."
xxxXXXxxx
"....we're under attack."
The sound of gunfire echoed through the comms channel. They could hear Tom's voice shouting commands, could hear the Delta Teams returning fire.
"...is in the Regan Hotel."
Nathan's voice, usually so calm and collected, almost rushed now in his sudden panic and fear.
Sudden panic and fear that seemed to infect CTU. They stared at screens, clutching desperately at microphones. Listening helplessly as their friends and colleagues fought for their lives.
"Adam." Michelle tried to make her voice as strong as she could, as calm and confident as she could. "Contact the reserve teams and LAPD. Inform them of the situation and despatch them to Tom's location. Make sure they have air cover. Tell Tom to dig in, hold his position and that reinforcements are on their way."
"Okay."
"Chloe, access the satellites. That area's hilly, find out what's attacking Tom, and send their co-ordinates to Tom and to the reserve teams."
"What about the Regan?"
"We should take him down now." Tony rubbed briefly at his face, taking his hand away when she glared at him. She'd always hated him doing that.
"Tell Nathan and Ashley to close up around Fredericks, but they're to hold their position until there's a clear opportunity. I wont risk civilian casualties." 'Not again.' "Tell the Delta Team to close up and be ready to go in hard. I don't want him slipping away."
Tony nodded and leaned towards the microphone. His voice, contrasting with Adam's, already speaking, with Chloe's, relaying information to the Delta Teams in the field. The sudden brief, fear filled silence gone, replaced by belief and hope.
Michelle closed her eyes, trying to ignore her headache, throbbing like a strobe light. Hoping and praying that they could pull this off.
xxxXXXxxx
Nathan listened as Tony relayed Michelle's orders. He glanced over his shoulder, looking for Ashley. Trying to reassure himself of Frederick's location.
For an instant, he couldn't find him.
There. Sitting casually at a table, his friend staring at Cronje, while Fredericks' eyes darted around the room, picking out bodyguards and hotel security. His eyes flicked across the room towards Nathan, focusing on him.
Nathan forced himself to act naturally. Ignoring the hard glance still lingering on him. He lifted a tray, and walked off, refusing to look over his shoulder.
Ashley saw him coming towards her and started to weave through the increasingly crowded room. Ignoring calls for her attention. She reached Nathan's side, turning away from the rest of the room, hiding their conversation.
Nathan spoke quickly, quietly. "New orders from Michelle. She wants us to move up on Fredericks."
"And then?"
"She wants us to hold back until we get a clear opportunity. She wants to minimize civilian casualties."
Ashley nodded, pretending to wipe her tray. "I'll take the left hand side, you take the right. We should be able to keep him in sight that way."
"Okay." Nathan stopped her as she started to walk off. "If you get a clear shot, a clear opportunity, don't hestitate."
Ashley's grin was sudden and vicious. "I wont."
xxxXXXxxx
His bodyguard stiffened suddenly. His hand creeping inside his jacket. His eyes focusing at a table across the room.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Unconsciously, Cronje moved his chair. Trying to find some cover from whatever had attracted his bodyguard's attention. Still staring across the room, still smiling at the pretty waitress that had poured his coffee.
His bodyguard didn't look away. Cronje could see his jacket hanging open, the pistol hanging in an under shoulder holster, within easy reach. He didn't seem to blink.
"Oliver Fredericks. He's here."
William Cronje felt his blood run cold.
xxxXXXxxx
Tom knelt in front of van der Melde, unlocking his handcuffs. Dragging him away from the side of the van, already riddled with bullet holes. Another shot tore through the weakened side, as they staggered away.
"Keep behind me." Tom moved to the back door of the van, conscious of van der Melde behind him, conscious of bullets flying around the two vans, stranded, since accurate shots had taken out the tyres on Delta Three.
Where the hell were his reinforcements?
Another shot slammed into the wall and he fought against flinching. All he could smell was gunpowder and smoke, although he thought he could pick blood out of the mix, if he concentrated hard enough.
A member of Delta Three jumped down from the other van, preparing to cover their movement. Aiming his gun between the gaps of the bullet ruined doors.
A single shot took him in the centre of the forehead.
He fell dead, his weapon tumbling from his arms.
Tom jumped down, firing blindly. His finger tight against the trigger, the gun burning hot in his grip. Screaming wordlessly for the death of another young man under his command.
Kevin van der Melde's eyes fell on the discarded weapon like a starving man.
xxxXXXxxx
He sat next to her body. Oblivious to the rest of the room, to the rest of CTU, the rest of the city.
Oblivious to everything except the extent of his failure.
"Why did you do this Alyson?"
He could feel his anger start to build, grow, overwhelming the sting of his loss. How could she do this?
"How could you do this to me, to your mother? And what about Gary? Did you think how this would effect him, how this would hurt him? Hadn't you hurt him enough already?"
His anger disappeared as quickly as it came. Leaving him old and cold with only the bitter sting of his own loss left. He pictured his daughter, his beautiful daughter at her graduation, at her prom. Imagined her in her wedding dress, radiant in white, walking down the aisle on his arm.
"All I ever wanted was for you to be happy."
George Rawlings took one of his daughter's cold dead hands in his own, trying to ignore the terrible wounds on her wrist. He felt his tears start to fall again, and this time, he didn't try to fight them.
"Why couldn't you just be happy?"
xxxXXXxxx
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck, his smile draining from his face like blood from a cut. His face frozen in a hideous parody of a grin.
He jerked his head away. Hoping briefly, ludicrously that if he couldn't see Fredericks, then Fredericks couldn't see him. Trying to hide behind his bodyguard.
Reality intruded just a moment later.
He couldn't stop himself looking back.
Where the hell was CTU? They were supposed to be here, supposed to intercept Fredericks, supposed to keep him safe. Supposed to stop this happening.
Oliver Fredericks sat at his table. Calmly drinking his coffee, talking with his friend. Seemingly oblivious to Cronje's panic.
Except that Cronje knew that Fredericks was here to kill him.
He lifted his coffee cup, hoping that his hand didn't shake, hoping that he didn't spill it all over himself. He didn't want to die, covered in spilled coffee.
Where the hell was CTU?
xxxXXXxxx
"Tom's digging in. He's pinned down, but they cant make any headway towards his position. He wants to know where the hell his reinforcements are." Tony leaned over the screen, highlighting the situation and the CTU positions for Michelle.
"Adam puts the reinforcements 10 or 15 minutes out." She chewed briefly on her lip, thinking through the situation, thinking through their options. "There's nothing else we can do to help them, is there?"
He shook his head, knowing how she must be feeling. "All we can do is play the cards as they land. Tom knows what he's doing."
"Okay." She ran her hand through her curly hair, pulling it back from her forehead. "What about the Regan?"
"Ashley and Nathan are in position and have the situation under control. They're just waiting for a clear shot." He looked down at the screen. "Or your order, Director."
Michelle squeezed her eyes shut, trying to buy a moment for herself, for them. She didn't want this, she'd never wanted this. Every decision she'd ever made had been the wrong one.
Except one.
She touched her wedding ring and opened her eyes.
"Tell Nathan and Ashley they have a green light."
xxxXXXxxx
Another bullet, almost spend went past Tom's cheek. He ducked instinctively, then returned fire, firing until his clip ran dry. He ejected it from the mechanism, and reached for another one. Still crouching, the protective doors of the vans riddled with bullets, almost useless.
Jeffers crouched next to him. Sweat tearing streaks down his pale face. He cradled his weapon, looking for a target. :Where the fuck is Delta Four?"
"CTU puts them about ten minutes from our location." Tom tried to smile. "We just got to hold for another ten minutes or so."
Jeffers opened his mouth to reply, and a single shot tore through the back of his skull. He stared at Tom, an amazed expression on his face. Then he toppled slowly forward.
Tom looked over his shoulder, at Kevin van der Melde, aiming a gun at him. Another member of the Delta Team lay dead at his feet.
"Drop your weapon, and put your hands behind your head. Then get on your knees."