In the end, the plan to escape through the secret tunnel was vetoed by Owen, and with good reason—Martin definitely knew about that passage, and would have heavily guarded it. Leaving through there would be no different from walking into a death trap.
Inside the underground safe room, Martin stepped into the wide-open chamber. Much of the equipment inside had been damaged. He fiddled with the terminal for a while, but the interface remained unresponsive.
"Fuck"
Frustrated, he kicked the console. The safe room terminal could access weapon systems across the U.S., but now that it was malfunctioning, many of his plans were ruined.
Seeing one of Staz's men tinkering with it, Martin asked, "How long until it's fixed?"
"Not sure. A lot of components are damaged. I did see spare parts in the supply cabinet, but I don't know if they're all there…"
"I asked how long it will take."
Martin's tone was full of impatience.
"Uh… at least an hour..."
"No. You've got forty minutes. Tops."
Martin walked away. The terrorist holding the toolbox shrugged. He couldn't care less about Martin's bureaucratic attitude. Who did he think he was—just another traitor.
"Staz, a lot of our men aren't responding..."
After the battle, Staz's side began checking casualties and quickly realized that many people weren't answering their comms.
Staz was burning with rage. His hatred for Owen had never waned. Bobby had been his blood brother, saving his life more than once. And now he'd been killed by that bastard.
"Find that son of a bitch. He killed Bobby and rescued the President. I want him alive. I'll personally show him what hell feels like..."
Staz gave the order to everyone. Martin received it too, but didn't stop them—he simply reminded them not to hurt the President. He also needed Staz's men to help recover the President.
Somewhere else, Owen listened to the enemy's orders over the radio and shrugged speechlessly. It seemed he had really pissed them off. During the chaos caused by the Delta assault, he had successfully rescued the President and Jack. Now, the biggest problem was how to get them out safely.
He didn't know how many terrorists there were exactly, but it had to be quite a few if they'd managed to take over the White House. The name "Staz" had come up multiple times on the radio. Owen didn't know anything about the man, so he called Jenny.
As soon as the line connected, Jenny gasped, "Owen, hearing your voice—it's such a relief to know you're still alive..."
"Yeah, I'm not that easy to kill, haha..."
After a quick joke, Owen got to the point. "Jenny, check the name Staz for me. He should be the field commander of the White House attackers. I need his full profile..."
"Okay, one moment... Got it."
Jenny began reciting his file: "He's a former Delta Force operator and team leader. Due to extreme methods, including suspected civilian massacres during missions, he was disciplined multiple times. Eventually, he and his team escaped military police pursuit and became professional mercenaries, roaming the globe. Officially, that's what the military says, but intel suggests his team was abandoned after being exposed during a classified op..."
"Got it. Thanks. I'll call back if I need anything else."
Owen ended the call, and since he hadn't stepped away, everyone else had heard the conversation. He looked helplessly at the President and Jack. "See? Just another byproduct of dirty politics. These terrorists were elite operators built with endless U.S. resources—then the U.S. itself turned them into enemies. Avril of the White Masks was like that. And now Staz is the same..."
He wasn't wrong. President Palmer was about to offer a few words of explanation when Owen suddenly perked up, signaling for silence. He pointed toward the hallway. Everyone became alert.
Faint rustling sounds came from outside the door. Though no voices were heard, doors were being opened one by one. Someone was searching room by room.
The group exchanged glances and silently moved into the inner room. It was a suite with a secondary exit, but Owen found it had been locked from the outside.
A few minutes later, the light under the door dimmed. The door was suddenly kicked open. Two armed terrorists entered cautiously.
The outer room was clearly empty, with nowhere to hide. After a quick scan, the two men moved toward the inner room.
The bedroom door was ajar, revealing a wardrobe inside—clearly a bedroom. The two terrorists moved into position at the door. Faint voices could be heard from inside.
They exchanged looks, seeing the same excitement in each other's eyes.
One of them kicked the door in, and they both took up flanking positions to cover maximum firing angles.
As the door slammed open, they saw President Palmer and another man standing together. Startled by the noise, both showed shocked expressions. The man beside the President reached for a gun.
"Ratatat"
The terrorists opened fire almost simultaneously, carefully avoiding the President as instructed by Martin, aiming only at the man drawing his weapon.
But the expected result never came. Instead, the target shattered into pieces with a crash—it was a mirror.
Shit. It was a trap.
Seeing the ruse work, Owen kicked open the wardrobe door and opened fire. Muzzle flashes lit the room as a burst of bullets tore into the two men.
They dropped to the floor, wounded. Owen rushed forward and put a bullet in each of their heads, dead or not.
Fight over.
"Woohoo"
George Walker, who had helped with the act, was ecstatic. He had been the "gunman" reflected in the mirror. Taking down two enemies—former Delta operatives no less—with such a simple trick left him giddy, like he had been the one to do it. If the situation allowed, he'd probably have taken a selfie with the bodies.
"Let's move"
Owen wasn't nearly as thrilled. He knew that gunfire would draw in more terrorists. The smartest move now was to leave immediately.
...
In the hallway, running footsteps approached quickly. Three terrorists had heard the shots and were rushing over, but before they arrived, they heard a loud shout: "Drop your weapons!"
Ahead, two masked figures were holding guns and aiming at two people—President Palmer and a wounded Jack Bauer.
"Guys, you caught him!"
The lead terrorist's face lit up at the sight of the President. The mission was finally on track. If not for that idiot Martin, it wouldn't have taken this long. Seeing their comrades had control of the situation, the newcomers relaxed, letting their weapons drop toward the floor.
"Yeah, we lost a man, but we got the President. He even asked me to send you his regards..."
"What?"
Ratatatat
Gunfire erupted out of nowhere. The terrorists, still confused, were all shot down. The leader stared blankly at the masked man before him. It was only then he realized something was off—only when going outside did they wear masks to avoid being caught on camera. Inside the White House, they all went without them.
But it was too late. Owen stepped forward, aimed down at him, and fired three more shots. Bang, bang, bang.
(End of Chapter)
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