By John Whitman
Operating out of an almost empty house in la, the newly created CTU faces its first significant hindrance. a large number of plastique explosive has vanished and will be anywhere—with criminals, crazies, outlaw bikers . . . or within the bloodstained palms of Islamic radicals. As strong representatives of the world's significant religions assemble for a convention on religion, peace, and coexistence, brokers of the child elite counterterrorism unit needs to chase elusive shadows in the course of the underbelly of L.A. A nightmare of assassination and terror is looming, tied to the darkest secrets and techniques of the church—an explosive probability that has to be uncovered and defused inside twenty-four hours, or violent repercussions should be felt round the world.
And just one guy possesses the required ardour, ruthless ability, and willingness to function outdoors his jurisdiction and past the bounds of the legislations: a perilous rogue CIA operative . . . named Jack Bauer.
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Extra resources for 24 Declassified: Trinity
Luckily they built that cathedral to last. Walls like Windsor Castle and crypts like dungeons. Hey presto, a magazine. No, I can't complain, Sharpe. Plenty of guns, plenty of ammunition. ' He looked speculatively at Sharpe's faded green jacket. ' Sharpe could see his Company being ordered on to the main ramparts and he swiftly changed the subject. ' 'Ah! Our exploring officer! ' Cox laughed. Sharpe was puzzled. ' 'Top of the castle, Sharpe. Can't miss it, right by the telegraph. ' Sharpe climbed the winding stairs of the mast-topped turret and, as he came into the early sunlight, understood Cox's reference to nearness to God.
Uniform's in Lisbon, sir. In store. ' Lawford snorted. 'And they shouldn't threaten provosts with rifles either. ' He crammed the tricorne hat on to his head and returned the salute of the two sentries who had listened, amused, to his outburst. Sharpe held up his hand. ' He brushed an imaginary speck of dust from the gold regimental badge that the Colonel wore on his white diagonal sash. It was a new badge, commissioned by Lawford after Talavera, and showed an eagle in chains – a message to the world that the South Essex was the only regiment in the Peninsula that had captured a French standard.
He turned again. ' Sharpe bellowed and again movement stopped. ' Ayres swivelled back to Sharpe. 'He was caught red-handed and the bastard will hang. ' He raised himself in his stirrups and shouted at the Company. 'You will see him hang! ' A click interrupted him. He looked down and the anger in his face was replaced by astonishment. Sharpe held his Baker rifle, cocked, so that the barrel was pointing at Ayres. ' Ayres had gone white, had sagged back into his saddle. Sergeant Harper, instinctively, came and stood beside Sharpe and ignored the hand that waved him away.