helmet that protected his neck and head, and he was armed.
Jack rolled away from his opponent, yanked the Glock out of his flight suit. Jong spotted the weapon and dived for Jack’s gun hand. The men slammed to the cabin floor again, with Jack’s left arm pinned under him. Jong Lee gripped Jack’s right wrist with both hands, squeezing until Bauer could feel his wrist bones scrape together.
Screaming alarms jangled inside the pressurized cabin. The Blackfoot had reached its flight ceiling. The craft could go no higher without stalling. Yet the auto pilot kept them on course — straight up.
The struggling men ignored the sound. Locked in a stalemate, Jong Lee could not let go of his opponent’s arm. Meanwhile Jack could not aim the Glock. In desperation, Jack pulled the trigger anyway.
The shot shattered the cockpit windshield, causing the pilot compartment to rapidly decompress. Buffeting winds suddenly filled the cabin, ripping the gun from Jack’s hand. Like everything else that wasn’t screwed down, the Glock was sucked out the window.
Jong Lee’s mouth opened wide. But if the man screamed, Jack could not hear the sound over the roar, the insistent alarm. Finally, Jong Lee released his arm. Free now, Jack grabbed the crash seat and hung on. The other man, his lips blue, eyes bulging, was sucked to the opening.
Amazingly, Jong Lee’s corpse plugged the hole, and Jack managed to scramble into the pilot’s seat, strap in. With Lee’s dead eyes staring at him, Jack disengaged the auto pilot and struggled to regain control. But he was too late. The Blackfoot was locked in a fatal spin, the ground coming up fast.
Jack slammed his palm down on the ejector button. With a loud bang, the panel above his head blasted away and Jack saw blue sky. Then his spine compressed and the ejector seat rocketed out of the craft.
Twisting in the air, Jack watched the Blackfoot tumble through the clouds. Then Jack felt another jolt as his parachute deployed.
Startled, Morris O’Brian jumped up when he heard the Blackfoot slam into the desert. The craft crashed a mile or more away from the wrecked sandrail. Morris watched the plume of orange fire roil and rise, topped by oily black smoke.
“That should get someone’s attention,” he muttered.
Morris stepped around the wrecked vehicle to gaze up at the sky. He saw the parachute immediately, watched it descend until it came to earth on a bluff a mile away. Grabbing the still useless radio, Morris hiked to the low hill.
He arrived fifteen minutes later, surprised to find Jack Bauer in a torn pressure suit. The CTU agent was seated on a rock, head resting on his knees.
“Hello, Jack,” said Morris. Bauer looked up, squinting against the noontime sun. “Hello, Morris,” he replied.
Jack’s hair was askew — the hair that wasn’t burned off, that is — and his face was battered like a boxer who’d lost a fight. Yet somehow Jack Bauer managed a smile.
Morris sat beside him. Both men stared at the blue mountain range in the distance. Finally, Morris broke the silence.
“That was a bloody long day, eh?”
Acknowledgments
The author sends out another hearty “w00t” of thanks to Sharon K. Wheeler, software engineer, for her helpful guidance in things digital. And to Vance Cerasini, who offered me a quick lesson in the ARPANET. If there are any errors, or if literary license was taken in the depiction of computer technology in this book (and yes, it was), the responsibility falls entirely with the author.
Special thanks to Will Hinton of HarperCollins for his vision, guidance, and especially for his abundance of patience. Thanks also to Virginia King of 20th Century Fox for her continued support.
Without the groundbreaking, Emmy Award-winning “24” creators Joel Surnow and Robert Cochran, and their talented writing team, this novel would not exist. Special thanks to them and also to Kiefer Sutherland for breathing life into the memorable character of Jack Bauer. An extra-special, extrahearty thanks to Carlos Bernard, too. Tony Almeida, you
A personal thank-you to my literary agent, John Talbot, for his ongoing support. And a very special thanks to my wife, Alice Alfonsi. A guy couldn’t ask for a better partner — in writing or in life.
About the Author
MARC CERASINI’s writing credits include
J.D. Lees) a nonfiction look at the film series,
