Eight hours later, Owen arrived at New York's JFK Airport. This time, he had traveled via CIA's private jet, which was faster than commercial flights.
Once he exited the airport, he went straight to NYU's Tisch School of the Arts, located in Manhattan. Frank Street—mentioned by Beth in her call—was nearby. Although Beth had definitely changed her location since, she likely hadn't gone far.
"Steve Owen?"
"Yes, that's me."
"Here's what you asked for."
Near NYU, a man in sunglasses approached Owen just after he got out of the car. After confirming Owen's identity, the man handed him a package.
Owen watched as the man took the same taxi he had arrived in and drove off. Looking around to ensure no one was watching, Owen opened the package. Inside was a Glock 22 in a holster and a car key.
These items had been provided by CTU New York. Since Owen had flown in on short notice, he couldn't bring weapons with him, so the local CTU team had prepped everything for him here.
There were plenty of cafés around NYU. Owen picked one and used the restroom to strap on the gun holster under his coat.
Exiting the café, he pressed the car key and spotted the Ford parked nearby flash its lights. It was an unassuming car—perfectly ordinary, blending in with traffic.
"Brr-brr-brr~~~"
Beth was calling early—well before the ten-hour mark they'd agreed upon. She was clearly anxious.
Owen answered.
"Beth?"
"Owen, are you in New York yet?"
"I'm here. Tell me where you are—I'll come to you."
"Central Park, Entrance C. Call me when you get here."
Cautious—good.
Owen shrugged to himself. He had asked Beth to hide in a public, open space. She'd taken that advice to heart.
Central Park wasn't just the largest city park in America—it was also one of the most famous in the world. It was full of people every day: Americans, foreign tourists, families, joggers, dog walkers. With its many entrances and sprawling layout, Beth had chosen wisely.
He got in the car. Though it was his first time in New York and he wasn't familiar with the roads, CTU-issued phones came equipped with high-level GPS navigation.
Setting the destination, he drove toward Central Park and soon reached Entrance C. He parked along the curb and got out, entering the park.
This was just the outer area, but it was already bustling. It was mid-afternoon, and many families were having picnics on the grass. Others were out walking their pets.
Up ahead in the plaza, children played around a fountain. Some were laughing and running around a person in a pet bear costume. The bear was playfully patting heads, tugging on sleeves, its exaggerated gestures causing the children to burst into giggles.
Owen scanned the area but didn't see Beth. This was the designated spot.
He considered calling her when he suddenly sensed someone behind him.
Whipping around, he saw the bear standing directly behind him. Beth's voice came from inside the costume. "Owen, follow me..."
She shooed away the nearby kids and led him toward a more secluded area—her designated changing spot. Only after reaching it did Beth remove the bear head and give Owen a hug. "Thank God you're finally here."
Looking at Beth, Owen couldn't help but admire her resourcefulness. Disguising herself as a mascot was brilliant. Even standing in the square earlier, he hadn't realized the bear was her—there was no way a hired assassin would've guessed either.
Her face was drenched in sweat, strands of hair stuck to her forehead. Being inside that costume was no joke—hot, stuffy, exhausting.
She looked genuinely relieved. Though Beth was strong, independent, even a bit ruthless at times, she was still just nineteen years old.
Despite what she'd been through in Europe, this was beyond her scope. She couldn't call the police—her entire security team, trained and well-paid, had been slaughtered. She doubted police could do better.
But Owen was different. That nightmare trip through Europe had left a lasting impression. Seeing him again gave her a sense of true safety.
"Owen, what should I do now?"
After changing back into her own clothes, Beth emerged from the dressing area and asked urgently.
"Come with me first."
Owen placed a hand on her shoulder and led her out of the park.
He had originally told her to hide in an open area because crowded spaces offered better safety through anonymity. Though there were more eyes and random elements, a single person could vanish in a crowd. It also meant multiple escape routes.
Better to run in public than get assassinated in a quiet place where no one even noticed you died.
But now that Owen was with her, it was time to find a more secure hideout. He also had a mountain of questions to ask her.
They walked side by side toward the exit, but hadn't gone far when Owen suddenly pulled Beth to a stop.
From the moment he entered Central Park, Owen had been scanning everyone—adults, children, vendors, joggers. His training focused on individuals acting alone, and one man had caught his attention.
Ahead and to the left, the man had been glancing in their direction. When Owen looked at him, the man acted perfectly natural, not looking their way at all. It might've seemed like a false alarm—but Owen's instincts had never been wrong.
Without a word, he turned and led Beth down a different path.
Their sudden change in direction triggered the reaction he expected—the man started moving quickly after them.
"Pop-pop~~"
The muffled sound of a silenced gun rang out. Bark exploded off a tree near them—two bullets had struck it just inches from their heads.
Owen thought about returning fire but didn't draw. They were still in a crowded park. Unlike the assassin, he couldn't risk hitting civilians.
While Owen hesitated, Beth suddenly stopped, pulled out a pistol, and fired two quick shots.
"Bang! Bang!"
Her shots hit another tree trunk near the assailant, causing him to stumble back in surprise.
Beth's gun wasn't silenced—the sharp cracks of the shots shattered the peaceful afternoon. Panic erupted. Mothers pushing strollers ran faster than anyone.
The attacker, nearly hit, slowed immediately and no longer approached so carelessly. Owen seized the opportunity, grabbed Beth, and ran.
"Nice shooting!" Owen shouted as they fled.
"I hired a private instructor and trained every day after I got back!"
Clearly, Beth had learned from her traumatic European experience. She'd built her own security team and improved her own skills—and thank God she had. If not, she might've been dead before Owen even made it to New York.
------------------
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