“You are persistent, Jack. What you lack in brains you make up for in determination.”
“I’m not going to say it again.”
“Or you’ll kill me,” Marks said calmly. “Who would you be killing me for, Jack? On whose behalf?” He nodded toward the small screen on the weapon in his hands. “For the people on that plane? You know, at least one of them was willing to sell the rights of the people he represents just to get more power. He was also willing to scare the hell out of the entire country to convince them to give up those rights.”
“You helped them do it,” Jack pointed out.
“Yeah, I did. But I never claimed to lead the country. I only stand up for
“They’re not as insane as you are,” Jack said wearily. The Sig felt heavy in his one good hand.
“They’re not as aware as I am. You know, society always punishes the enlightened. I’m telling you, Jack, we are the victims of crimes and we don’t even know it.”
While he talked, his hand moved slowly to the side of the HERF gun, toward a switch. “The people are too weak to help themselves. They’re getting what they deserve. I just think the people on that plane should get what they deserve, too.”
“So should you,” Jack said.
Marks reached for the switch. Jack pulled the trigger of his SigSauer. The bullet passed through Brett Marks’s skull and shot out into the distance. His body jerked backward as he pulled the trigger on the HERF gun. The weapon emitted a high-pitched whine that died away as it clattered to the ground.
Invisible, a stream of focused high-energy radio waves sped up into the night as Air Force One passed overhead. On the plane, the President of the United States slept soundly.
In the seats to the rear of the plane, Attorney General James Quincy pondered his next move, sure now that the New American Privacy Act would pass into law.
Though neither of them would ever know it, the destructive radio wave streaked past the jet, missing Air Force One by five hundred yards on its way up into the atmosphere, where it sped harmless into space. Air Force One cruised past Los Angeles on its uneventful journey to San Diego.
On the hillside at Griffith Observatory, Jack Bauer fell to his knees. He was losing blood from the wound in his side. His left shoulder hung useless at his side. He looked out from the hillside onto the city, currently lost in the void. Out there, millions of people lay under a blanket of darkness, some fearful, some angry; some good, some bad; but all of them, every last one, in need of protection against those who thought nothing of slaughtering them by the hundreds.
Jack Bauer knew who he was fighting for. He was fighting for them.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank my original editor, Hope Innelli, for the chance to meddle in the world of “24,” and my current editor, Josh Behar, for his patience and understanding!
About the Author
JOHN WHITMAN is the author of numerous books and projects, including the “Star Wars: Galaxy of Fear” series,
