“It was very hard to get just the right angle, especially in the long shots,” said Guy Hawkins, the film’s British director. “In several scenes, perfect shots were ruined because the pregnancy harness was clearly visible under Abigail’s clothes. Most of the time, when this happened, we used digital effects to clean things up, but this blooper got past us…”
Lon froze the image. For a long second the harness she wore was clearly visible under the flannel shirt, just as the director had said. He compared the image on the television screen with the photo in his hand.
“Abigail Heyer is no more pregnant than
Lon gaped at the screen, absolutely certain he’d discovered Abigail Heyer’s secret. The international star was pretending to be very pregnant. The only question was—
“Why?”
Tony crossed the inn’s deserted lobby, cradling the blanket-wrapped corpse in his arms. He moved through La Hacienda’s tiny kitchen in the rear of the building where he found the innkeeper, his wife, and a housekeeper had been herded, and then murdered, by the Chechens.
In the narrow alley behind the inn, Milo stood waiting beside the car. Keegan, Lesser, and Brandy sat inside.
When Milo saw Tony coming, he popped the trunk. Tony placed the body inside, marveling at how light Fay felt in his arms, as if much of her substance had faded away with her life.
Milo gently closed the trunk, faced Tony. “Ready?”
“Take Lesser, Keegan, and Brandy back to the United States. Rendezvous with the extraction team. And make sure forensics gets Fay’s body—”
“What about you?”
Tony peered down the alley to the busy street beyond. The white van in which he’d driven across the border was still parked on the street where he’d left it. “I’ll be right behind you. I’m going to secure the equipment up in the room, erase all evidence of CTU involvement.”
Milo stared hard at Tony. “You’re going after this guy Dobyns, aren’t you?”
Tony nodded, short and sharp. “The Chechens might have information we need, too—”
“But Tony, you’ll be alone. Don’t you think—”
Tony’s cold, lethal gaze met Milo’s anxiety-ridden eyes. “I’ll make sure I ask them a few questions before I finish them off.”
Milo sighed, giving it up. “What do I tell Chappelle?”
“Tell him I’ll be right behind you…Tell him to send another extraction team. That’s all he needs to know until it’s finished.”
A horn blared. Milo jumped. “Damn!”
“Hurry up,” Brandy cried from the passenger seat. “We ain’t got all day.”
Milo frowned, tried one last time. “Tony. Reconsider. Come back with us. A follow up strike team can take care of this—”
“You know that won’t happen.” Tony glanced away. “Chappelle doesn’t like to make waves…he’ll consider the international issues, probably balk. This is something I’m going to have to do myself.”
“But—”
“
12. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 4 P.M. AND 5 P.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME
Stripped to the waist, lying flat on his back in a hospital bed, Jack Bauer gazed at the bomb-proof concrete ceiling. The CTU’s L.A. headquarters more resembled a military bunker than a federal office, and its infirmary reflected the same utilitarian style — windowless concrete walls, exposed ducts snaking along the ceiling or between banks of medical equipment.
Standing steel and glass partitions separated the twelve-bed hospital ward, where Jack waited, from the triage unit and intensive care facility down the hall. Farther along the blast-resistant concrete corridor sat a glass- enclosed surgical theater, a biohazard treatment unit, and a state-of-the-art biological isolation and identification facility.
Dr. Brandeis had brought Jack here, sent him through the CT scanner, then the MRI. Alone now, Jack waited for the test results, and for the painkillers he’d hastily swallowed to knock his raging headache back down to a dull, manageable throb again.
Jack glanced at his watch, grimaced, and reached for the secure telephone on a buffed aluminum night-stand beside his bed. He tapped in his personal code for an outside line, then dialed his home phone. Teri answered on the second ring.
“Teri? It’s me.”
“Hello, Jack.” He could feel the chill in her voice.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. There’s a situation—”
“Another crisis. I thought as much. Don’t worry about it.”
There was a long silence. “Is Kim home from school yet?”
Teri sighed. “Since I didn’t hear from you, I sent her over to my cousin’s house. She’s going to watch the Silver Screen Awards with Sandy and Melissa.”
Jack blanked for a second. “The Silver Screen Awards?”
“Yes, Jack. Her mother is going to be in the audience tonight, remember?”
Their early morning conversation came flooding back: how Teri had received that call from her old boss, got the last-minute invitation to attend the awards show, was excited about seeing some of her old friends.
“Of course, that’s why I called,” Jack lied. “I wanted to tell you to have a good time. What did you decide to wear?”
Jack could almost feel Teri melt a little. “My black Versace,” she told him. “You know the one…”
“I remember,” whispered Jack. “And I remember the last time you wore it.”
They’d spent a long weekend in Santa Barbara. The first night, she’d worn it to dinner. The second and third nights, dressing was the last thing on their minds. But that was nearly six months ago. They’d had few romantic moments since.
“I’ll bet you look great,” said Jack.
“You can see for yourself.” Now Teri’s voice was as soft as Jack’s. “Tonight, when I get home. Probably around midnight.”
“I’m looking forward to that,” Jack replied, but he tensed up the moment he’d said it. Although he hoped his work would be over by midnight, he honestly couldn’t be certain. “Look, about tonight, I’m really sorry—”
“Jack, don’t apologize. We both know what you do is important…more important than I probably realize. It’s just that sometimes—”
“Teri, listen—”
“Oh, the limousine is here. I have to go.”
Jack checked his watch. “So soon?”
“Yes, it actually starts in an hour. Dennis says they stage it early so they can broadcast it during prime time on the East Coast. Look, the driver’s honking. I have to leave. Bye.”
“Have a great time,” Jack said. “I love you—”
But Teri had already hung up. Jack listened to the electric hum for a moment, then dropped the receiver in its
