By Marc Cerasini
In a distant nook of latest Jersey is a kingdom inside a nation—a safe haven for fanatical converts and fervent believers. yet in the confines of the secluded Islamic neighborhood of Kurmastan, plans are underway to unfold worry, loss of life, and untold destruction throughout the USA . . . and to bring one deadly blow to the country's uncovered and susceptible heart.
On the East coast to oversee the activation of CTU's manhattan workplace, rogue agent Jack Bauer reveals himself within the middle of an unleashed typhoon maybe already too robust to forestall. but when it is not, in twenty-four hours the U.S. might be delivered to its knees through a mystery military grown by itself earth. and there's no one Jack Bauer can trust—because the roots of the phobia cross very deep . . . and frighteningly high.
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Additional info for Collateral Damage (24 Declassified)
As Layla hugged the earth, smoke billowed over their place. It stank of cordite, scorched steel, and burned flesh. “Inshallah,” Layla muttered from the floor. Jack crouched over Agent Abernathy. “Stay here,” he informed her. “Call Morris and inform him to ship backup. We’ll desire tactical groups and a scientific unit. ” Jack pointed to the teen. “Take care of the lady, too—” “What are you going to do? ” Layla demanded. “I’m happening there to determine what the hell is occurring. ” 12 the subsequent occurs among THE HOURS OF 6:00 P. M. AND 7:00 P. M. jap sunlight TIME 6:05:50 P. M. EDT defense Station One CTU Headquarters, NYC Morris O’Brian watched flickering, real-time satellite tv for pc photos of the shattered city. Thick smoke crossed his video display display like a creeping black smudge. Flames licked the partitions and roof of the rambling manufacturing unit. He used to be tempted to alert the neighborhood firefighting authorities—though in that remoted zone of rural New Jersey, Morris wasn’t yes what assets have been really to be had. It wasn’t his name, besides, so Morris didn’t make it. Jack Bauer had referred to as for backup and Morris obeyed—dispatching tactical attack groups and a clinical unit. anticipated time of arrival: twenty-eight mins and fifty-five seconds, in line with his possibility clock. “The final chopper’s simply lifted off from the heliport,” Peter Randall expert him. “No challenge with clearance this time. ” Morris nodded—then his cellphone beeped. Bloody hell? Who’s calling me on my own line? however it wasn’t a decision. His ISP had simply alerted him to an pressing e mail ready in his cache. Morris regarded round for the briefcase laptop he had introduced with him that morning, discovered it at the back of the door the place he’d left it whilst he begun paintings at the stricken defense method. He dumped the briefcase on his table and opened the lid. He wiped his thumb over the fingerprint sensor, and bought clearance to continue. His ISP protocols and passwords have been programmed into the pc, and Morris had the “urgent message” on reveal in seconds. the email got here from Chloe—the kinky chicken from the pc division he’d been courting at the sly. Morris learn the tagline, and his knees became to jelly. “Oh god,” he moaned, shedding right into a chair. “She’s pregnant? ” 6:22:06 P. M. EDT Kurmastan, New Jersey As Jack descended into the valley, he entered a pall of smoke. Passing the ruins of the cellular houses, he observed daily indicators of human habitation one of the ruins—refrigerators grew to become on their facets, doorways extensive, spilling their contents, burst bed smoldering within the sunlight, a shattered child crib, torn cereal packing containers, damaged dishes. there have been no symptoms of lifestyles, yet lots of symptoms of demise. The grisly is still of the voters of Kurmastan have been throughout him. Jack rotated one of many intact cellular houses. Sheets of opaque plastic were hung rather than home windows. The door used to be unlocked, and Jack opened it. within he observed 3 filthy bunks, an aluminum sink full of soiled Styrofoam plates, plastic utensils, and swarming ants. The tiny toilet used to be filled with empty ammunition packing containers, all brand-name sportsman shells bought legally, over-the-counter.