Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Following Takes Place Between 8:00 A.M. and 9:00 A.M.

When the three terrorists came in the front door, several things flashed through Sydney's head in a matter of seconds.

Asian males, so these are the jokers from the airport, which could mean there are dozens of them—especially to secure an entire hospital…they like explosives, so that too…unmasked, so everyone here is either dead, or it won't matter…

CTU and APO will make it here in minutes…and these guys probably know that—enter more explosives…

And I am not tackling three guys with a Glock after 18 months behind a desk!

Her body in the meantime operated independently of her mind; while all this was happening she yanked the petrified Dr. Mancini behind the administration desk.

"Listen to me carefully, and do not make a sound," she ordered in a low whisper. "The people who are in your building are terrorists." Mancini let out a gasp; Sydney responded by yanking on the good doctor's collar. "Now these people will kill me if they learn that a government agent is inside your hospital. And if I get killed, the possibility of everyone else dying increases dramatically. Now I can get you and your people out of this, but the only way I can is if you do exactly what I say. Understand?"

Mancini nodded vigorously. "All right," Sydney took a compact mirror out of her jacket pocket, and raised it until it was at her arms length. One of the terrorists was in the process of taping something to the door; the others were collecting all the cell phones from the two-dozen people on the floor.

"I'm going to try and make my way over to the bathroom. Now I want you to stay low and do everything these people ask of you. Under absolutely no circumstances draw any attention to the fact that I'm here. All right?"

Again Mancini nodded vigorously.

Sydney reexamined her mirror, made sure that both of the terrorists were looking away from the desk, and rolled over to the bathroom, which mercifully was only five feet away from the admin desk. She looked twice to make sure she was unobserved, then ducked inside the bathroom.

She imagined these people would eventually come to the bathrooms, but if they were spread as thin as she thought, she'd have at least five minutes.

After checking the stalls to ensure the room was empty, she took out her cell phone, and called CTU.

"O'Brian."

"Chloe, this is Sydney."

"Tony's not happy that you went into the field without backup, " Chloe said in her typically brusque manner.

"Well, he's going to be shitting green apples when he finds out the trouble I'm in right now," Sydney said grimly.

There was a pause of exactly five seconds, in which Syd presumed Chloe listened to the police scanner. "Shit, when you go out on assignment you don't fuck around," she said with a sense of awe.

"Well, the good news is Jack and the rest of APO will be onsite in a couple of minutes to help with the rescue attempts," Sydney said, as she looked for the air-ducts, and began to unscrew them with a device from her Swiss Army knife. "The bad news is that I think that there have to be at least a dozen of these people, and their all probably armed to the fucking teeth."

"What do you need?"

"To start, I need you to get the interior schematics for this hospital, specifically the ventilation systems and where they lead, and send them to my PDA," she said as the second screw came out. "Then I need you to contact APO and tell them that under no circumstances are they to try any kind of contact with the terrorists, until I can give some kind of position on where everybody is."

"They're not that quick on the trigger over there."

"They might get that way when they learn that I'm in the building," Sydney pointed out. "Just tell everybody not to make any kind of move until I can get read on the layout."

8:06:22/8:06:23/8:06:24

As it turned out, APO's arrival was even quicker than Sydney could have imagined. Dixon, Vaughn and Jack Bauer had managed to arrive three minutes earlier outside the main entrance to see a sight that had clearly passed chaos three exits back.

There was a crowd of panicked people gathered outside the entrance, and while there were all sorts of reasons for, the most obvious were two recently shot people lying sprawled outside the entrance. Unfortunately, that had been as close as the three agents had been able to get, as even a novice could tell that some kind of plastic explosive had been taped to the glass.

Jack's eyes narrowed and automatically did what he did best when confronted with a crisis: he took control of the situation. He called CTU and told them that terrorists had taken control of all three entrances of the hospital.

"Do you have any idea how many hostiles there are?" Tony asked.

"It's gonna be hard to tell," Jack said. "Could be anywhere from nine to twelve. They've already killed people just for standing close to the entrances. I think we're about as close we're going to get to the inside."

"Yeah, thermal scans are going to be useless given the number of people in the hospital," Tony said.

Just then, Michelle walked up. "Tony, we have a call that's being patched in from LAPD," she told him. "A man claiming to be speaking for the hostiles has demanded to talk to the head of CTU."

"Patch me into the call," Jack demanded.

Tony did so.

"Am I speaking to the director of CTU?" a heavily-accented voice asked.

"Yes, this is Tony Almeida. Who am I talking to?"

"It should be sufficient for you to know that I speak for Scarlet Circle, and that my men are in command of Wilshire Memorial Hospital." The voice was calm, cool, and in control—not the type of killer Jack wanted in charge, he preferred the one who could rave, they were easier to manipulate. "My men have had to kill seven people to gain control of this facility. Those deaths are on our consciences. Any further deaths that occur will be on that of you and your country unless our demands are met."

"And what are your demands?" Tony asked calmly.

"For starters, I know that there at least one of your agents are in the sightlines of the main entrance." Jack became still, because he knew that agent was him. "He has exactly one minute to get to the far side of the building, or two hostages will die. The minute begins now."

Tony got off the line fast. "Which agent is he talking about?" he demanded.

"Me." Jack was already on the move. He was reluctant to give up anything to these bastards, but now was not the time to piss these people off—besides, he wasn't wearing body armor.

He ducked behind a wall, and waited until the sixty seconds were up.

"Continue to meet our demands, and there will be no need for further violence." Jack didn't like the smugness that was now in the speakers tone.

"What do you want?"

"In less than two hours, your president is scheduled to sign a treaty with our premier that is abhorrent to the policies of hundreds of millions of our people," the speaker said. "The President and the premier must instead issue a joint statement repudiating completely this agreement by that time. If he does not do so, every American in this hospital will be dead by the time that treaty is signed."

"Our President will never let that happen," Tony said abruptly.

"Your President will have no choice," the speaker responded. "And don't think that our only weapons are guns and explosives. We will turn this hospital into a mausoleum before you get inside."

With that, the connection went dead.

"How the hell are we going to play this?" Tony asked.

"We do have one advantage that the terrorists aren't aware of," Jack said. "Before we got here, Dixon had a conversation with Syd. She's already inside the hospital. And given the way our friend spoke, I'm guessing they don't know she's there."

There was a pause. "So you're telling me our only hope against a gang of militant Chinese terrorists is Sydney," Tony summarized.

A grim smile crossed Jack's face. "Doesn't seem fair, does it?"

"Syd's not Bruce Willis, Jack."

"You're right," Chloe said from a corner, "she has hair."

"If she's going to have a chance in there," Almeida continued, ignoring O'Brien, "we have to come up with some kind of contingency."

"I'll talk to Dixon and Vaughn," Jack agreed. "Tell them to set up a command center. We'll coordinate with your people and LAPD. Try and come up with some ways of getting past their defenses."

"I'll get started on it. I'll get back to you after I've contacted Division and District. They're going to be royally pissed, when they learn what's happening here."

"Oh, I can think of someone who's going to be even angrier." Jack said. "I'll call you back when we're set up."

"Copy."

Tony hung up and Jack started dialing Sydney's father.

8:10:46/8:10:47/8:10:48/8:10:49

Considering the added levels of security that President Palmer had added to the airstrip, it was almost a relief when the plane carrying Premier Zhang En Lai landing with no sign of problems. The ceremonial handshake seemed comparatively tension-free.

The Russian premier's plane was coming in for a landing when Mike walked away from the podium to answer his phone. The President immediately knew something was wrong, but maintained his position, knowing that his Chief of Staff would insist that protocol not be violated unless there really was an emergency.

After the two leaders exchanged greetings and they had started walking back to their respective motorcades, Mike walked back over to him, with a grim expression on his face.

"Mike, what's going on?" the President asked.

"I just got a call from Erin Driscoll at Division. There is a developing situation at an LA hospital."

The euphemism 'situation' is one of the most overused words in Washington -- you only got worried when they used more direct words like 'crisis' or 'threat'. However, in Palmer's tenure at the White House, he had insisted that euphemisms like this be used only when there when in front of the press, who could run wild when they heard anything approaching the word 'problem'. "What sort of situation?" the President said, lowering his voice.

"Armed hostiles have taken one of the larger hospitals in LA hostage," Mike said slowly.

"How big is the hospital?"

Mike lowered his voice. "Somewhere between five and seven hundred people."

This is definitely a time when the word 'situation' is woefully inadequate. "What you're really telling me that the Chinese extremists who entered the country today are holding this hospital hostage?"

"We have no concrete evidence," Mike began, "however, they believe that is the case."

The two of them walked easily back to the motorcade, and Palmer gave the press a tight smile and a wave, remaining calm all the way; that attitude didn't change even after they went into the Presidential limo. "How, Mike?" What are they armed with? Guns, chemical weapons, explosives?"

"CTU's still gathering intelligence."

Palmer's eyes narrowed. "What demands have the terrorists made?"

Mike took a deep breath. "They are demanding that you and the Premier repudiate the treaty you are about the sign or they will kill everyone inside."

The President thoughtfully stared out the window for a long moment, then glanced back to Mike. "We have to postpone the signing."

"Mr. President, I can start doing that, but there will be all kinds of ramifications if we do."

"This day is about saving the lives of future generation, not about killing people living now," the President said firmly. "Both En Lai and Suvarov are reasonable men. They'll understand that this treaty will become a mockery if we let hundreds of people die before the ink on the treaty is dry. Now, does the media know about this?"

Mike shook his head. "So far the only people they've contacted are CTU. They've made no effort to notify the press."

"How long do you think we can keep a lid on this before they find out?"

"How long are you considering keeping it quiet?"

"Hopefully until CTU can mount a rescue operation. Though given the situation, the chances of them succeeding are not good." The President paused for a moment as something occurred to him. "The terrorists haven't made their demands public knowledge?"

"So far, they haven't."

"That's odd," the President noted. "Given the visibility of their target, I would have expected them to contact the media first. Make clear who their enemies are."

"Indeed. What do you want to do first?" he asked

"Call Lynn at the retreat. Tell her to prepare for what we may have to do. Then contact CTU. I want to know our best course of action."

8:22:19/8:22:20/8:22:21

Jack Bauer waited for CTU to call back, staring at the phone as though it had offended him by not ringing.

"Bauer," Vaughn started cautiously, "staring at it won't make it ring."

Jack turned a glare on Vaughn. Yup, Michael thought, it is definitely one of those days.

"Jack," came a lightly accented voice, "stop threatening the subordinates. They know you don't mean it."

Vaughn glanced at Nadia and almost said, That's easy for you to say. I'm not so sure.

Bauer's gaze softened as he looked away from Vaughn and back at his fiancée. "Hey, Nadia—"

At that point, the phone rang.

"Damnit," Bauer muttered as he flipped open the phone. "Bauer."

"We've got a vocal confirmation of the man I talked to," Tony said. "It's Hsu Kar-Wai."

When Jack heard this, he put the phone on speaker and let Vaughn, Dixon and Nadia in on the conversation.

"You know more about Scarlet Circle's MO than we do," he told Tony. "How long are they going to give us before there are additional casualties?"

"He and his people have already killed seven civilians. I don't think they're going to play tag, but…" Tony trailed off.

"They're playing this wrong, aren't they? Vaughn said.

Nadia glanced at him. "What are you talking about?"

"This is one of the biggest population centers in the city in the middle of a major terror strike, and I don't see a single camera anywhere," Jack said slowly. "You want to cause panic in the streets, you make your demands in the eyes of the world. They're acting like they want to keep this between as few people as possible. This isn't how a major terror organization acts, especially one with a man like Kar-Wai leading the operation."

"Not that this isn't interesting," Nadia began, "but right now, who gives a shit? There are five hundred and fifty eight people in that hospital, many of the infirm and helpless. We know the terrorists have assault rifles, they've got all three entrances wired with explosives, and, lest we forget, my sister is in the air-conditioning system!"

"Has Sydney made any contact since her initial communication with Chloe?" Vaughn asked.

"She's been sending us pictures of the terrorist's positions from her cell phone," Chloe said slowly. "Unfortunately, it's a big building, and they've spread themselves a little thin."

"Does she have a read on how many there are?" Jack asked.

"She saw three when she came in the main entrance, she's spotted two additional shooters so far," Chloe told them. "Problem is, this hospital has a basement and two surgical wings. Trying to map the place from the inside out will take awhile."

"She thinks that they're spreading themselves that thin?" Vaughn asked incredulously.

"Don't ask me, I'm not the one crawling through the air-ducts like John McLain," Chloe said pithily.

Vaughn paid this cattiness no mind, and speed-dialed Marshall. "Marshall, do you have the schematics for Wilshire Memorial up yet?" he asked abruptly.

"Of course he does," Chloe said. "I told him where I bookmarked the site."

"Um, actually, I pulled the schematic using the web-browser ten minutes before CTU was contacted."

"This isn't a teambuilding exercise, Marshall," Chloe argued. "You don't get extra points for finishing first."

"Chloe, can we put aside the pissing contest for now?" Vaughn said impatiently. He looked to Jack. "This may be our way in. If you can't go through the door, maybe we can go under it."

"What are you thinking?" Jack asked.

"There has to be a drainage section in this hospital where they dispose of surgical waste," Vaughn said. "Now this isn't a section of the hospital that someone who isn't a doctor would know about."

Nadia looked at Vaughn. "And how exactly do you know about this?"

"You know how much time people like us have to spend in hospitals?"

Nadia shook her head. "Slipped my mind."

"My guess is that Kar-Wai and his hostiles don't know about it, and they certainly won't waste a man to watch it."

"He's right," Marshall said, highlighting the schematic. "There's one located in the eastern corridor of the basement of the hospital. There are only two small problems. First of all, it is a waste disposal center, so there's going to be detritus, needles and limbs and blood and coagulation--"

"Marshall, the problems," Vaughn asked, who was wishing their tech wasn't so visual with his description

"It's messy, so it would be really hard to climb through. And it's not going to be that wide: according to the scale on this map, it's less than eighteen inches in diameter."

"Leaving aside those drawbacks for the moment," Jack argued, "where would we access this pipeline?"

"Hold on a second," Marshall tapped some keys. "There's a point of egress under an open manhole at Fourteenth and Wilshire, about a third of a mile from here."

"Then I think that we'd better get there ASAP," Jack said. "At the very least it'll be out of the terrorist's line of sight

"That still doesn't answer the question of how we'd be to send a team in there to get those people," Nadia said as they walked to the car.

"That's just it," Jack said. "We're not going to."

8:30:58/8:30:59/8:31:00/8:31:01

"All right, here are the schematics of the underground section of pipelines that Vaughn is saying that we can use as a point of entry," Chloe said, bringing it on to the main monitor, and focusing on the pipes.

"What's the pipeline's bore?" Michelle asked.

"According to this, it's seventeen inches in diameter. You'd barely be able to get a trained dog through there, much less one of our people."

Tony considered this. "Well, Jack wouldn't send his team down there unless he had some way of threading this particular needle."

At that moment, the phone rang. "CTU, Almeida," Tony said, as he picked it up.

"It's Jack. Put me on speaker," Jack instructed.

Tony did so. "All right, Jack, we're all here. Tell us what you've got in mind."

"You've seen the same schematics that I have," Jack began. "It's probably the safest way into the building, but the entryway is barely large enough for anybody to fit through. According to the schematics, these pipes are connected to several others in the sewage system. Now what I want us to do is use strategically placed explosive charges, small enough to crack holes in the pipeline without causing the entire structure to give way, but large enough for us to widen the gaps, so that the remainder of the strike force can gain entry into the hospital."

"You set off any kind of explosives like that, the terrorists are going to be on you like flies on shit," Michelle said.

"Vaughn," Jack said. "Patch Marshall into the call."

Marshall was in another of his hyperactive moods. "OK, during the Cold War, one of the major conventional weapon makers was trying to mix stealth technology on explosives, so that they could detonate without alerting, well, you know, us." He paused for a moment. "Now, when the Iron Curtain fell, the CIA got some models of the technology, but had never been able to perfect it."

There was a pause as they considered this. "And you're telling us that you succeeded where the rest of the government could not?" Chloe asked, with just a hint of sarcasm.

"I didn't do anything," Marshall corrected, "but a colleague of mine at NSA has been working on it on and off for the last five years, and less than a month ago, he successfully field-tested it. I used some subterranean requisitions to get some of it, hoping for the right occasion."

"I'd say that the time has come," Vaughn said plainly. "I've already talked with Kim; it should be on site in less than ten minutes."

"All right, so you've got the magic," Tony said, "but that still doesn't answer the more pressing question: who's going to lay the explosives in the pipeline?"

There was an awkward pause. "I think we all know the answer to that," Nadia said.

"Wait a minute--" Jack began.

"Nadia, I came with this idea with the intention of following through," Vaughn argued.

"That's very gallant of both of you," Nadia responded "but I know that though both of you keep in excellent shape, even if you stripped naked and greased up, neither of you would be able to fit inside the pipe, much less have room to lay the charges." Nadia smiled. "There are a lot of advantages to being a size three; I never expected this to be one of them."

"Nadia, it's too dangerous."

"It's risky, but it's hardly a suicide mission." Nadia spoke into the phone. "Marshall, I assume that these charges can be detonated on a timer."

"Um, yeah, that's right," Marshall said. "Theoretically, you should have plenty of time to place all the explosives, get out of the pipeline, and detonate the charges."

"Nadia, if something goes wrong--" Jack started.

"Jack, in what capacity are you speaking to me: as a fellow agent or as my fiancée?" Jack had the grace to look away. "At any rate, the people in that hospital are in a far greater predicament than I am, and we have to place their rescue above my safety."

"She's right, Mr. Bauer."

Everybody looked up as Jack Bristow, who until had been putting up a buffer zone between APO and Division, arrived at the manhole.

"I'm about as thrilled about this as the rest of you," Sydney's father began, "but this is probably our best chance of getting those people out of there."

"Has the President made any decisions?" Vaughn asked.

"According to my sources, he's delaying the treaty signing until we can find a solution to this problem," Mr. Bristow began. "Now this will buy us some time, but when others in this administration begin hear about this, there's going to be pressure on this government not to yield to Kar-Wai and his men, and if they get wind of it, this crisis could be escalated. This is our best chance of resolving it."

"All due respect, Mr. Bristow," Jack began, "you're not exactly unprejudiced on this."

"All due respect, Mr. Bauer, neither are you." Sydney's father spoke into the phone. "Marshall, have you run any estimates as to how long it will take to get the explosives placed?"

"Uh, yes sir, between twenty-five and thirty minutes."

"Kim will be here any minute with the explosives," Mr. Bristow said. "I believe it's in all of our interests to do whatever it takes to save these hostages."

"There anything we can do to help Syd?" Vaughn asked.

"Not so far, but if I know my daughter, she's going to find a way to help us."

8:39:35/ 8:39:36/8:39:37/8:39:38

Though Sydney had no idea what her father was telling the assembled agencies, it wouldn't have surprised anyone to know that she had decided to do exactly that.

In her last communication with Chloe, she had been told that all three of the entrances were lined with plastic explosives that the terrorists could trigger if anyone came in or left. This meant CTU was going to have to find a more 'creative' way of getting inside. It also meant, for a little while, she was on her own.

Sydney had located nine separate gunmen, and suspected that there could be another four or five hidden throughout the hospital. She didn't know how many of them had the capacity to trigger the explosives, but she figured the best way of doing so was for her to thin the herd.

So she had lowered herself into one of the hospitals laboratories and tried to find what tools she could use to help her meet that end—preferably, something quieter than her Glock, and wouldn't alarm the entire building.

Sydney knew from past experience that the enterprising villain could build a fair arsenal with the equipment one found in a lab. She filled her belt with scalpels and scissors, boxes of matches, a couple of bottles of rubbing alcohol and acids, and some packages of nitroglycerine.

She then reentered the air ducts and resumed crawling through the shaft until she found a corridor where a terrorist was patrolling alone.

I suppose this is the part where I say 'Nurse? Scalpel'? she thought as she waited for the hostile to pass into her zone.

The instant he did, she knocked the grate off and jumped onto the terrorist's head. He dropped his AK-47, but he was fast enough to knock her off he shoulders. Before he did, she threw one of her bottles of chemicals into her enemy's face. The burning lasted just a few seconds, but it was long enough to kick the gun out of his reach. She tried to cut his neck with her scalpel, but he yawed to her left, just out of range.

The terrorist took a Krav Maga position, and Sydney countered it like she was returning a tennis serve, slapping the back of his hand, deflecting the punch easily. She grabbed the wrist and kicked for his stomach, the blow glancing off of his Kevlar body armor. She brought the foot down, driving it into his instep, and twisted, throwing him against the wall. When he charged at her again, she sidestepped and slashed the scalpel across his carotid artery.

Her opponent fell to the ground, lifeless.

Now if they weren't as thinly spread as before, I've got a real problem she thought as she rifled the victim's pockets for weapons clips. She ran down the hall, picked up the rifle and made her way towards the closet.

If I'm lucky this'll be the only up close kill I have to do here.

Sydney knew from experience that luck had almost nothing to do with these kinds of missions.

8:44:27/8:44:28/8:44:29

"Lao, come in," Hsu said over his walkie-talkie.

He got nothing but static back. "Lao, do you copy?"

Getting a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Hsu changed frequencies. "Tsai, what was Lao Ye's last position?" he said to his second in command.

"He was patrolling the eastern wing of the hospital," Tsai reported.

"All right, check that section again, and make sure there's more than one of you," Hsu ordered. "Be damned if we get picked off one by one like some lousy movie."

Hsu took out his phone and dialed a scrambled number.

"Yes," said the voice on the other end.

"Where are we in relation to the conference?" Hsu asked.

"The President is currently meeting with advisers to discuss the validity of continuing in the face of our threat," the speaker said.

"You told us that this President was a strong man," Hsu said. "I find it difficult to believe he would give in so easily."

"I don't believe he has any intention of giving in. I think he's simply trying to stall for time so that his people can find a way to stop us."

"Do you think he knows something that we don't?"

The speaker paused. "Is something going wrong?"

"No," Hsu assured the speaker almost too readily. "The operation is running smoothly."

"Then you'll be ready to begin the next phase of the plan soon."

"Within the hour," he said. "Call us when you're ready to proceed."

As his walkie-talkie blared again, Hsu hung up. "What is it, Tsai?"

"Lao's dead, and it looks like someone beat the hell out of him before he killed him."

A shower of ice started to pervade Hsu Kar-Wai's spine. "Have any of our entry points been breached?" he demanded.

"Not unless there's someone at your end," Tsai responded.

Hsu could see from where he was standing then nobody had gotten in or out. "Get the hell out of there, and make your way back to the emergency room," he ordered. "We have to prepare for the possibility that someone's already in the hospital."

"What are you going to do?"

"Talk to someone who's been lying to us." He clicked the transmitter off and turned to one of his associates.

"Bring me Dr. Michael Mancini," he told them. "We need to have a conversation."

8:50:59/8:51:00/8:51:01/8:51:02

Lynn Kresge walked up to Mike. "Congressman Heller keeps asking when he can see the President," she said quietly.

"I'm well aware of that, Lynn," Mike said with the slightest tinge of exasperation in his voice. "But right now, helping out James Heller has got to be at the very bottom of my list of priorities."

"I'm glad to know where we stand, Mike," Representative Heller said sharply, "but unless I talk to someone in charge soon about what's going on at Wilshire Memorial, the next thing that's on my list of priorities to do is speaking with someone from the press. And I have a feeling they'll be a lot warmer to me than you are."

Realizing the corners that the Congressman had backed him into, Mike turned back to Lynn. "Would you give us a moment, please?"

As soon as Lynn was out of earshot, "All right, Mr. Chairman, what do you know?"

"The same information that you do," Heller said smoothly. "That a group of Chinese extremists have taken control of a hospital in Van Nuys, during which they killed several people. They are holding the hospital hostage, pending the actions of the President."

"Has the media gotten a hold of the story?" Mike asked with a sinking feeling.

"Channel 7 picked up the story ten minutes ago. I imagine by the time this conversation is over, all the major networks will be covering it. These feeding frenzies begin very fast, and if you're not careful, we'll all be devoured by it."

"How did you get this story?"

"I talk to the same people you do," Heller told Mike. "Along with some voices the President won't listen to."

Mike cut to the chase. "What do you want me to say, Jim?"

"The terrorists are demanding that we repudiate the treaty we've all gathered to witness," Heller said just as bluntly. "I want to hear the President say that he's not about to do that."

Even though he'd been expecting something like this for the last fifteen minutes, it still hurt when he heard it. "Mr. Chairman, if we don't do what these people say, over five hundred people will be killed."

"What do you think is going to happen if we do what these people demand?" Heller countered. "You think they're just going to holster their weapons and say 'Thanks a lot; we surrender'? No, that hospital's going to be destroyed anyway, and the only thing that will have happened is that our foreign policy will have taken a blow that it can never recover from." Heller looked at Mike. "And I know that you know that, too."

"Even if I disagree with the President's decision -- and I'm not saying that I do-- it is still his decision. Now you may be auditioning for David Palmer's job, but you don't have it yet. And you don't have the power to decide whether he's making the wrong choice."

"Yes, I do," Heller countered again. "It's called a ballot. And you can tell President Palmer this; if he decides to start bowing and scraping to the scum of the earth, I will make sure that foreign policy isn't the only place he'll take a hit." Heller started to walk away. "There are repercussions for a move like this, and he knows it."

And Mike knew that Congressman Heller was a man of his word.

8:56:31/8:56:22/8:56:33

The terrorist scanned the hallway carefully, wondering where his partner was in patrolling this hall. He raised his Uzi and pondered where to go. He had tried the bathrooms already, and checked the vending machines, and the man hadn't even answered his damn radio.

And there was another option, but it was too damned stupid to contemplate. A security guard playing cowboy, like some stupid western, or a doctor in hiding who had set up a tripwire somewhere. But that was unrealistic…even worse, it was stupid. They were all trained professionals, they had trained the armies in Sudan and worked with Al Qaeda in Iraq. The possibility that some stupid American would be able to get the drop on them—

His thought process was cut short as he felt a pressure around his neck. He dropped his Uzi as his hands flew to his throat, trying to relieve the pressure, but it only grew worse as his struggled. In fact, it literally lifted him off the floor. How could he not have seen…?

His eyes caught a bare glimpse of the murder weapon as he thrashed in its grip. He had walked into a noose of clear plastic tubing…

He was being strangled by an IV tube…

"Hey, an Uzi," came a voice off to the side. "And you even brought a silencer with it. That's really nice of you."

He thrashed towards the voice, and saw a white girl standing next to him, with his weapon! She hefted it, then brought it around, into his face, like a hammer—the last thing he ever saw.

Michael Mancini had promised Sydney that he would not reveal her presence to the people who now had control of his hospital. However, with three of those same terrorists beating the shit out of him, his resolve-- which admittedly hadn't been that great in the first place-- was weakening very rapidly.

"You're a non-combatant, doctor," the one who was apparently in charge told him. "This isn't your fight anyway. Just tell us what we want to know, and the pain stops."

"I-- don't know—what you're—talking about--" Mancini managed to gasp out before the terrorist on his left grabbed him and slammed his head into the desk.

"That is a lie, doctor," The inquisitor indicated to the others to pick him, and raise his head so that it was level with his. "We have little use for you to begin with, and your value becomes even smaller to us the longer you tell these falsehoods."

"I'm -- telling the-- truue—ahh!!" The terrorist on the right had removed a knife and drawn a big slash on his left forearm."

"We know the most sensitive places to cut a man." His interrogator's calm demeanor somehow made the experience to worse. "And unless you tell us how many agents from your government are in your hospital, we will put you through surgery of your own. Without even a local."

He nodded to both his men who laid him down flat on the floor, and instructed one terrorist to hold Mancini's legs, the other to hold his arm.

"Where shall we cut next? Shall we continue to work on your arms, perhaps your face, or maybe, " he stood over Mancini's body, and "we should work on your testicles."

As any of his numerous ex-wives could have testified, Michael Mancini's dick had gotten him into immense amounts of trouble before. This time, it was the simple action of a blade coming within three inches of it to start Mancini singing like the proverbial canary.

"All right, all right!" he shouted. "There's an agent in the hospital right now!"

Sydney had gained the advantage in the fight with one of the terrorists who had come after her, and was now holding a scalpel half an inch away from the man's eye.

"How many of you are there in this facility?" she demanded in Cantonese.

The terrorist had balls, he still wasn't talking.

"I know you speak English," Sydney said in a harsh whisper, "but I'm going to pretend your continued silence is because I haven't hit the dialect you speak. So, I'm going to give you one more chance," she lapsed into Mandarin "who is the leader of this attack?"

She got an answer, but it definitely wasn't from the place she had expected. Her prisoner's walkie-talkie crackled with static.

"Agent Sydney Bristow!" the voice on the other end said in flawless English. "I know you're in this hospital, and that you've killed at least one of my men! I admire your fortitude, but now I'm giving you an order: either answer this message, or listen as the people in the critical care wing start to die!"

8:59:57/8:59:58/8:59:59/9:00:00