At the Pentagon, Vice President Larfson was in the middle of discussing a new rescue plan with military officials. After the Delta Force rooftop assault had failed, they urgently needed a backup strategy.
"Gentlemen, I think you need to take a look at this..."
Carol rushed into the room and switched the conference room's large screen to a news broadcast. On-screen, intense firefights were raging on the east side of the White House. National Guard troops were pouring heavy fire toward the building.
The footage had clearly been shot from a zoom lens on a distant rooftop—not very clear, but enough to get a general picture of the scene. With the airspace over the White House now a no-fly zone, the media had been forced to get creative. A few had tried using drones, but those were instantly shot down by military signal jammers, and the drone operators were promptly detained by armed soldiers.
The Pentagon's response this time was unusually harsh. In the past, journalists were considered "the fourth estate," but that title meant nothing here. Any violation of protocol would be handled according to wartime regulations. Faced with the real threat of military retaliation, even the most audacious reporters backed off.
"What the hell is this? Who gave them authorization to act on their own?!"
The Vice President exploded with rage. How dare the military open fire without orders—this was the White House, after all. The President and Secretary of Defense were being held hostage inside.
Larfson's furious glare locked onto Carol, clearly suspecting that she had secretly authorized the National Guard to act. Carol hurried to explain.
"I looked into it. The team leading operations on-site is CTU's Special Action Unit. One of their agents inside rescued the President and Jack Bauer. They also stumbled upon a group of hostages and took the opportunity to get them out too..."
"An inside agent? CTU?"
"Yes."
"Wait... You're saying the President escaped? Where is he?"
Larfson and the others all stood up, visibly shaken. Was it possible they'd been outdone by one CTU operative?
But Carol shook her head. "The President didn't get out. Their escape plan was disrupted. Only some civilian staff managed to escape."
"What? Are you sure?"
"Yes. I've confirmed it with the National Guard field commander on-site. He verified it personally. CTU and the rescued hostages have also confirmed it."
"Then where is the President now?"
"No idea. But he's likely still with that CTU agent."
"Get me a secure line to him. I need to confirm the President's safety myself..."
...
In the White House basement, Staz's team had split into two groups. Staz himself was leading a squad to chase Owen—he cared more about avenging Bobby than capturing the President.
The rest followed Martin, pursuing the hostages. One of them kicked open the utility trench door and charged inside—only to slam headfirst into a low-hanging pipe.
The trench wasn't tall enough to stand in, and they all had to crouch to move. From the dim space ahead, they could see hunched-over figures fleeing fast.
"Fuck!"
One enraged terrorist pulled the trigger. Bullets sparked through the darkness. A scream rang out—a hostage had been hit. The rest of the bullets ricocheted off pipes, sending showers of sparks.
"No—stop! Are you insane?!"
Martin immediately pushed the gun down. "This is all natural gas! Do you want to blow us up?!"
Though clearly annoyed, the gunman lowered his weapon. He didn't like Martin, but he wasn't wrong.
The group continued after the hostages in silence, but everyone's pace was slow—crouched and awkward.
They finally emerged from the trench and saw hostages fleeing toward the breach in the fence—but no one dared go out. The gunfire outside sounded like a thunderstorm. The lead gunman, clearly hot-tempered, raised his gun at the running civilians.
But before he could pull the trigger, a burst of blood exploded from his chest—sniped.
The National Guard had positioned snipers to watch the trench exit, prepared for enemy pursuit. The lighting made it hard to identify them initially, but the moment someone raised a weapon, the sniper didn't hesitate.
A bulletproof vest couldn't stop a sniper round. The man went down instantly. The rest dove for cover, scrambling back into the trench.
...
Inside the tunnel, Owen followed Walker, only to realize they'd entered a garage.
Walker pressed a button on his key fob, and a Cadillac's lights flashed in response.
"You dragged me here for this?"
Owen looked at him, exasperated. Walker, however, was glowing with excitement. "This isn't just a Cadillac. This is the presidential limo—The Beast. One of a kind in the world."
Owen suddenly remembered Jack had mentioned "The Beast" earlier. Not as famous as Air Force One, perhaps, but a legend in its own right. Armored, chemical-weapon proof, fireproof—allegedly even missile-proof, though that was likely an exaggeration. Still, its defense systems were top-tier. Many other heads of state had their own cars modeled after it.
Ratatatata!
Gunfire erupted behind them. Owen sprinted forward.
"We'd better hide in the belly of this beast."
He yanked the door open and dove inside. Bullets pinged off the car's exterior harmlessly.
"You'd better be right about this thing listening to you..."
"Relax."
The hail of bullets continued as Walker started the car. The engine roared to life. With a powerful lurch, the Cadillac surged forward—almost running over Staz, who was closest.
"Where are we going?"
"No clue. Let's just get out of here first."
"Shit! Where's the exit?!"
Staz leapt out of the way as The Beast barreled past. He unleashed a full burst from his rifle, targeting the rear tires.
No use. The run-flat tires absorbed the bullets like nothing.
"Fuck!!!"
Screeeeech!
"Staz! Get in!"
Two SUVs skidded to a stop beside him. His teammate waved him over from the passenger window. Staz sprinted around the hood, jumped in the front seat, and both vehicles tore off after the limo.
...
While Walker drove in frantic loops around the underground garage, Owen's phone rang. He glanced in the rearview and saw the two SUVs giving chase, then shouted at Walker before answering.
"Steve Owen, this is Vice President Larfson. Is the President—"
"STOP. First, tell me where the goddamn garage exit is! Shit, hurry—someone tell me how the hell we get out of this maze, or we're dead!"
The Vice President was about to respond when Carol snatched the comm from him.
"The exit's northwest. It's a motion-sensor gate!"
"There! That way—oh, shit~~~~!"
Owen pointed, and Walker slammed the gas. The Beast roared forward. The motion sensors didn't even have time to react—the gate was still closed when the reinforced limo rammed straight through it, smashing its way into open daylight.
(End of Chapter)
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