24 Declassified: 03 - Trojan Horse Read Online Free Page A

ground, the twitching hand pumping off one last shot, which ricocheted off the wall.
    Jack spied his quarry racing across the old movie set. He raised his G36 to fire, then lowered the muzzle and slung the weapon over his shoulder. Deciding on a capture, Jack took off in a sprint. He would try to head off the youth at the edge of the set.
    Blackburn glanced up from securing the dead man’s weapons. He watched Bauer catch up with the running man, seize the nape of his neck, a handful of long dark hair. Together the two men slammed into the suit of armor, which was actually a sculpture of welded steel. Jack grunted, the wind knocked out of him as the other man’s body cushioned the impact.
    Chet Blackburn winced. Even from ten meters away he’d heard the sickening crunch when the fugitive’s nose flattened, his front teeth shattered against the iron breastplate.
    After stumbling to his feet, Jack leaned against the medieval prop. He used plastic zip cuffs to secure the bleeding man’s arms behind his back. But before he could haul his prisoner to his feet, the studio was rocked by another explosion. Dust billowed from a far corner of the massive sound stage as a chunk of the wall blew away in a tumble of shattered plaster. Angel One, along with three other members of the DEA assault squad, emerged from the smoke.
    Jack turned to face them. A trickle of blood ran down from his nose. More blood stained his battle suit. But Jack Bauer stood tall, still gripping the battered prisoner under the shadow of the medieval armor.
    “Well, well,” said Chet Blackburn, teeth flashing white against his dark skin. “Here comes the cavalry, right on time.”
    5:59:56 A . M .PDT Santa Monica
    The sound of the phone on the nightstand shook Teri Bauer out of her sleep. She rolled over, reached across the bed. The sheets were cool, unruffled. She lifted the receiver. “Jack?”
    “Teri?” The voice was male, a higher octave than Jack’s, with a British accent.
    Teri sat up, eyes wide. “ Dennis ? Is that you?”
    The man laughed. “I can’t believe you recognize my voice after all this time.”
    “It was the accent that gave you away. And it’s only been a year or so.”
    “Nearly two, and I’ve been counting the hours.”
    Teri ran her hand through her short, raven hair, not sure what to say next. The last thing she expected was a call from her former employer, Dennis Winthrop.
    “Look, I know it’s a crazy time to call, but I just got off the red-eye from London—”
    “London, wow. Long trip.”
    “—and I remembered how you used to wake up at four a.m. and get a couple of hours of design work done before you had to get your daughter ready for school. You always showed up at the production office around noon with really fantastic stuff.”
    Teri smiled. “Oh, come on.”
    “No. no, don’t sell your work short.” The man paused. “You were awake, right? I’d hate to think I got you out of bed.”
    “Oh, yeah,” Teri lied. “Been up for hours now. So what’s going on?”
    “Well, I’m back in town because of the awards show tonight. You know, the Silver Screen Awards...”
    “Right, right. The Silver Screen Awards,” said Teri, recalling she’d seen something about the awards show on the cover of an entertainment magazine she’d flipped through on line at the supermarket.
    “Did you know that Demon Hunter is up for three awards, including one for production design?”
    “My god, I didn’t know. That’s great, Dennis. Really great. Congratulations.”
    “Look, I know it’s short notice, but I opened my
    L.A. office this morning and found sixteen tickets for tonight’s show sitting on my desk. My staff is going, the cast is going...and I wanted you to come.”
    “I’m speechless. That’s really generous and thoughtful—”
    “Not at all. You’re as much a part of the design as anyone else. You were involved and I want you to be there to share the glory. I’m calling Chandra and Carla, too. And