24 Declassified: Trinity
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Operating out of a nearly empty space in Los Angeles, the newly created CTU faces its first major crisis. A large amount of plastique explosive has vanished and could be anywhere—with criminals, crazies, outlaw bikers . . . or in the bloodstained hands of Islamic radicals. As powerful representatives of the world's major religions gather for a conference on faith, peace, and coexistence, agents of the newborn elite counterterrorism unit must chase elusive shadows through the underbelly of L.A. A nightmare of assassination and terror is looming, tied to the darkest secrets of the church—an explosive threat that must be exposed and defused within twenty-four hours, or violent repercussions will be felt around the world.
And only one man possesses the necessary passion, ruthless skill, and willingness to operate outside his jurisdiction and beyond the limits of the law: a dangerous rogue CIA operative . . . named Jack Bauer.
set at 12:00:00. “Starting facial recognition.” Jamey punched in a few more commands, and the video started running at high speed, the travelers hurrying through the frame like Keystone cops. For a brief instant, each face flashed as the facial recognition software captured it. Jack and Jamey watched for a while as the time code ran forward from 12:00 to 13:00, then 13:22, and then suddenly pinged. “Oh, shit,” Jamey said. She clicked on the warning window that had appeared. A face in the
this mess up,” he said, referring to the informational debris, not the damage to the house. “No, you don’t,” Henderson said. “It’s our mess now. CTU’s mess, I mean.” Jack bristled, but then put his hackles down. He could see it. CIA recruits the FBI to pursue a domestic investigation. The shit hits the fan, and CTU, eager to make its bones, steps in as the new agency in charge of a terrorist case. “It’s my case,” Jack said. “I want in.” Henderson winked. “Like I said, let me give you a ride.”
pulled up short when Jack, kneeling, brought the Sig around to the height of his groin. “Everything is okay,” Jack stated. “Got that?” 270 “Sure thing, boss. Holy shit!” the worker said, melting away. “All right,” Jack said, pressing his knee harder into Farrigian’s sternum. “I’m sick of all this crap. You sold a package of C–4 to a bunch of Arab terrorists, right?” Farrigian shook his head no as vigorously as he could with the gun jammed back into his cheek. Jack had had enough. He had
screamed. Jack didn’t know how powerful the bomb would be, so he had to get rid of al-Hassan now. He pushed the man up against the balcony wall and hefted him over. Al-Hassan, suddenly terrified, grabbed hold of Jack’s arm and pulled him off balance. 1:55 P.M. PST Four Seasons Hotel, Los Angeles It’s lost, Michael thought. Time to get rid of the evidence. He pressed the button, but nothing happened. Marwan had fallen out of range. Michael ran forward with the rest of the astonished crowd. In
place. What are you doing here?” Michael ignored the gun and sat down on the couch. The house was sparsely furnished, but there were a few pieces of furniture and some pictures to avoid curious questions. “It all went sideways,” he said. “The Pope is still alive. Your man, al-Hassan, got blown up but no one else did. We tried to kill the Pope back at St. Monica’s but some government agent stopped us.” Yasin closed his eyes deliberately, then opened them after a moment. “I told you not to