Owen and Jack had been chatting for only a few minutes when the office door in front of them opened. A slightly overweight man with a receding hairline walked out alongside a short-haired man.
The balding man had narrow, triangle-shaped eyes. Owen immediately recognized him—Director Hayden of the NSA, the low-profile and highly secretive head of the agency. The middle-aged man beside him had close-cropped black hair, a scruffy beard, and a rugged appearance. Owen noticed his striking green eyes.
"Jack..."
Director Hayden gave Jack Bauer a polite nod.
"Louis..."
Jack nodded back in return. The two made way for each other. But Owen's full attention was on the man with black hair. His instincts screamed at him—despite the man's calm demeanor, Owen could feel the danger radiating from him. This guy was far more threatening than Hayden.
"Sam… Didn't expect to see you here."
Surprisingly, Jack greeted the black-haired man directly. While not exactly warm, the greeting was notably friendlier than how he'd addressed Hayden.
"Hey, Jack. I've been overseas lately—just got back today."
Sam nodded in greeting and then left with Director Hayden.
Jack and Owen looked toward the now-open office. Inside, President Palmer was on a call. He looked over, made a "just a minute" gesture, and Jack closed the door quietly.
"Looks like they solved their little problem on their own…"
Jack remarked casually.
Owen gave him a curious look, clearly wanting more. Jack glanced at the closed door—might as well kill time—then continued, "That man with Hayden is Sam Fisher. You've heard of him, right?"
Owen nodded in sudden realization. Of course—Sam Fisher. He had heard the name but had never met the man in person. Sam was the ace operative of NSA's Third Echelon. No wonder Hayden's attitude toward him was so deferential. In fact, Hayden probably relied on Sam even more than Jack relied on Owen. In essence, Sam was Hayden's equivalent of 007.
His presence here could only mean one thing: a major NSA case. And the only major case recently had been the leaked surveillance evidence against the U.S.
Owen quickly understood what was going on. It was just like what was happening with him and Jack now—they must have just completed a high-profile mission, and Hayden had brought his top man to the president to claim credit.
"Jack, Owen…"
President Palmer opened the door and poked his head out with a snap of his fingers. The two entered the office.
"Alright, Owen, tell me exactly what happened—every detail."
President Palmer leaned back in a chair, clearly intrigued. Owen recounted the mission in full. He didn't exaggerate or embellish anything. When he reached the part where Avril was devoured by the shark, President Palmer actually smiled. After all, the real mastermind behind the White House attack wasn't just Martin or those terrorists—they were just pawns. The real puppet masters were White Mask and possibly Vice President Lafferson.
"So, now that you've got the satellite phone, anything interesting on it?"
Owen knew what the president was really asking. But so far, they hadn't found any direct evidence linking Lafferson to White Mask. He could only shake his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. President. We're still digging. If anything turns up, I'll inform you immediately."
"Keep pursuing White Mask. Let's try to take them all out in one move while we've got the chance. As for Syndicate, I think you should know: the NSA did well this time. Third Echelon not only recovered our surveillance data but also dealt a heavy blow to Syndicate. Sam has uncovered the true identity of their leader. I'll be informing the UK shortly. Let's see how they explain it…"
What the president said confirmed Jack's earlier suspicions. NSA had not only recovered the sensitive intel but had also taken down a major target, gaining them serious favor with Palmer. He was clearly pleased.
The president's time was always limited—he had decisions to make every minute. After issuing his instructions, Jack and Owen were dismissed.
Outside the White House, both men knew one thing for certain: NSA had earned Palmer's trust. The president no longer relied solely on CTU. While CTU might still be his first choice for the time being, it was no longer his only option.
Third Echelon had succeeded where Omega had struggled—taking on Syndicate and coming out ahead. It was a clear signal: Third Echelon was not just effective; they were better. They would inevitably become Omega's rivals. Neither Jack nor Owen liked that idea, but they could do nothing about it.
At dusk, Jack and Owen parted ways in the White House parking lot, each leaving with heavy thoughts.
Simultaneously – Kansas City, Missouri
The sun dipped below the horizon. As usual, people finishing work stopped by local supermarkets to pick up groceries for the next few days. This time of evening was peak shopping time.
At the entrance of a mid-sized supermarket, customers flowed in and out. In the distance, headlights approached. A car slowed and parked near the entrance. Four men stepped out and walked calmly toward the doors.
Four men going to the supermarket together might have seemed odd—but not odd enough to raise alarms.
Everything was normal.
Inside, the four men split up. One made his way toward the snacks aisle.
Beside the snack shelves, a mother and child were selecting treats. Across from them, a store worker was restocking. The man stopped in the middle of the crowd and began reciting scripture. At first quiet, his voice grew louder and louder, eventually drawing the attention of those around him.
The mother realized what was happening and scooped up her child to leave. But it was too late.
The scriptures had given the man courage. Once it reached its peak, he pressed the trigger clasped against his chest. A fireball engulfed everything.
Moments later, explosions echoed from several other aisles. Flames erupted, shelves collapsed, bodies were torn apart. The attackers said nothing—no slogans, no manifesto. Just silence, scripture, and detonation. They walked calmly to their chosen spots, prayed, and returned to their god.
At the supermarket entrance, another mother had just found her wandering child. As they tried to leave, a man blocked the doorway.
He looked nervous, muttering prayers as he faced them. The mother pleaded, holding her daughter tightly, inching toward the exit.
She didn't want to die. She didn't want her child to suffer. She hoped—begged—that he'd let them go. Even if he detonated after, just let them leave first.
For a moment, the man hesitated.
Then he pressed the trigger.
A fireball exploded at the entrance. There was no trace of the man, the mother, or the child left behind.
______
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