24 Declassified: Collateral Damage

Marc A. Cerasini 24 Declassified: Collateral Damage

After the 1993 World Trade Center attack, a division of the Central Intelligence Agency established a domestic unit tasked with protecting America from the threat of terrorism. Headquartered in Washington, D.C., the Counter Terrorist Unit established field offices in several American cities. From its inception, CTU faced hostility and skepticism from other Federal law enforcement agencies.

Despite bureaucratic resistance, within a few years CTU had become a major force in the war against terror. After the events of 9/11, a number of early CTU missions were declassified. The following is one of them.

PROLOGUE

CTU Headquarters, Los Angeles Four days ago…

“Hello, Jack.”

A shadow fell across Jack Bauer’s desk. He looked up from the report he’d been reading, into the eyes of District Director George Mason.

Jack stood, rubbed his chin. “Good to see you, George.”

Mason’s thin lips tightened. “I’ll bet.”

“How are things in Tacoma?”

Mason set his briefcase on the floor. “Oh, you know, Jack. It’s about as far from real Washington as you can get. Makes a guy feel lost, out of touch. Banished, if you know what I mean. And all because of the ‘Company’ he keeps.”

Jack arched an eyebrow. “So you’re lonely, George?”

Mason smirked. “I still have friends. Oh, and by the way — Teddy Hanlin sends his regards. And so does his partner, Seth Campbell.”

Campbell wasn’t actually working with Mason any more. The corrupt CTU agent had been caught taking bribes. He was now serving a ten-year sentence in a Federal penitentiary. Jack was the one who’d put him there.

Mason’s mention of him now was a clear tell. He wanted Jack to know exactly why he’d barged into Jack’s office late on a Friday afternoon: payback.

Jack hid any reaction to Campbell’s name, simply closed the report on his desk with a sharp sweep of his hand.

Mason’s crafty eyes darted to the desk, then back to Jack. “You’ve been reading the weekly operational review, I see.”

“You don’t miss a trick, do you, George?”

“Then you know CTU’s New York division will be activated in three days.”

Jack nodded. “It only took six years.”

“Things move slower on the East Coast,” Mason said.

“The situation there is… political.”

“Right. The Agency’s political. This is news?”

“I mean it’s more so there than here. Brice Holman has been running investigations out of the Agency’s regional office for the last three years. Now he’s finally getting his own Manhattan-based CTU Operations Center and a full staff. But there are apparently some jurisdictional disputes, turf wars. A lot more toes get stepped on. But I don’t have to explain about toes getting stepped on, do I?

Not to you?”

Mason slid Jack’s overflowing in box aside and settled on the edge of his desk. “I’ve got a job for you, Jack. Washington — the real Washington — ordered me to dispatch an operational consultant with solid managerial experience to oversee activation of the East Coast Division—”

“Hold on, George. That kind of assignment is way above my pay grade. I thought Bill Buchanan out of Seattle was handling this.”

“He was, until a pair of his agents defused a bomb at the base of the Space Needle this morning.”

Jack blinked. “That wasn’t in today’s threat report—”

Mason chuckled. “You won’t hear about it on the evening news, either. No sense in causing panic.”

Bauer’s features darkened. “You mean no need to alert the public to the danger of terrorism, so that when the day comes that we can’t prevent an attack, the citizens won’t be prepared to deal with it?”

“Yeah, Jack. That, too.” Mason laughed. “God, relax, Bauer. The bomb was planted by some eco-green fringe group protesting logging or something. They’ve already been caught.”

“Good.” Jack folded his arms. “Then Buchanan can go to New York.”

Mason shook his head. “Unfortunately, with a procedural review of the situation, coupled with the drafting of an after action report, Bill is stuck in Seattle for the next few weeks. That means you’ll take Manhattan.” Mason smiled.

Jack’s phone rang. He ignored it.

“Don’t worry, Jack. I won’t send you alone. I can spare Almeida. I’d like to give you Jamey Farrell, too, but since Milo Pressman transferred to Langley, we’ll need her here.

You can take O’Brian instead. You two worked well in Las Vegas, and you’ll need a guy like Morris because any major glitches will most likely be technical—”

“Listen, George—”

Mason silenced Bauer with a raised palm. “This should be an easy assignment. You’ll show Brice Holman the ropes in New York, help him organize his staff and set up protocols to interact with the other divisions and agencies—”

“Why me?”

“I want you to liaise with the other authorities in the region,” Mason purred, ticking them off with his fingers.

“I’m talking about the New York City Police Department, the Office of Emergency Management, the DEA, the local branches of the Secret Service, the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Smooth over any problems and—”

“Smooth over problems?” Jack cut in. “I’m the last person you should be sending for that. The last time I had contact with the New York branch of the FBI, I exposed one of their agents as a traitor and neutralized him.”

“Which is why you’re the perfect man for this job.”

Mason tightened the knot on his tie. “It shows the other guys we mean business.”

Mason picked up his briefcase and set it on Bauer’s desk. “The codes, protocols, and operational drives are here. Agent Holman and his staff are expecting you to arrive first thing Tuesday morning. Enjoy your weekend with Tracy and your son—”

“It’s Teri. And I have a daughter.”

“Like I care. You’re going to New York, Bauer. Your flight leaves Monday.”

1. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 7:00 A.M. AND 8:00 A.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME

7:00:02 A.M. EDT

New York, New York