24 Declassified: Trojan Horse

24. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 4 A.M. AND 5 A.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME

Jack had called in every resource he could find for this raid. Chet Blackburn’s overworked Tactical Unit would lead the strike, but elements of the FBI, Captain Stone’s LAPD SWAT team, the California National Guard — even State Troopers under the command of Captain Lang — had been tapped.

Now a dozen helicopters circled the mountain, while CTU specialists used deep ground imaging to locate the hidden entrances to Hasan’s no longer secret underground lair.

“We found two exits, both covered now,” Chet Blackburn told Jack, shouting to be heard over the noise of the beating blades. “All the elements are in place. We’re ready to go once you give the word.”

Jack Bauer nodded, activated his headset. “Begin the assault. ”

Hasan’s anger was a physical force that battered everyone and everything around him.

Nawaf Sanjore followed a trail of smashed furniture and broken glass, to the deepest region of his master’s underground headquarters. He found several acolytes cowering in front of a steel door.

“Is he inside?” the architect asked.

The robed men nodded. “The master does not wish to be disturbed.”

Sanjore ignored the warning, pushed the heavy door inward. The chamber beyond was small, and crowded with computers and satellite communications equipment. Hasan sat in his command chair, his back to the door. He stared straight ahead, at a darkened monitor.

“Hasan?”

“Leave me.”

“Master. Such behavior is unseemly. This is a setback, not a defeat.”

The chair spun on its axis. Hasan faced the architect. “I have just learned that the communications center in Tijuana was destroyed hours before the virus was to be unleashed. The authorities have rescued the hostages, and CTU has captured Abigail Heyer — alive.”

“She knows nothing—”

“She knows enough. But I do not care about the woman, only the movement. We have been wounded—”

“We will survive,” Sanjore cried. “No one knows your true identity. No one could possibly know of this place. Even if that foolish actress implicates Nikolai Manos, who will believe her? The Old Man on the Mountain will endure.”

Hasan seemed mollified by Sanjore’s words, but a shadow of doubt crossed his face. “We have lost assets. Irreplaceable assets. ”

“A mere setback. We can rebuild. The vision has not died.”

“But if I am exposed?”

“Then you shall continue your operations in secret, from this very base of operations. Do not forget that a great portion of your wealth is intact, unreachable in a Swiss account.”

“But we have lost so much.”

“But not all, never all. You are still alive, Hasan. And alive, you can still fight. The Americans, the Russians, they cannot harm you as long as you remain hidden in this impenetrable fortress. In time, from this secret place, we will again launch an attack.”

Hasan pondered the man’s words. “You restore my faith, Nawaf. Truly you are the most loyal and valuable of my followers.”

Nawaf Sanjore’s heart soared at his master’s compliment, rarely given. He bowed deeply.

“I live to serve you—”

The architect was interrupted by explosions, screams, gunshots. Then an amplified voice boomed throughout the underground cavern.

“This is CTU. Lay down your weapons. You are surrounded and cannot escape. Surrender now or you will be shot.”