11:00:04 a.m. PDT Hangar Six, Experimental Weapons Testing Range Groom Lake Air Force Base Tony peered around the door, only to jump back when bullets splattered against the doorjamb and peppered the wall behind him.

"Get ready, they're coming again," he cautioned.

Tony risked another peek, saw the Chinese commandos advancing in disciplined ranks behind the tow tractor. They were about fifty yards away and closing fast. Even if he had a clear shot, Tony would have trouble picking them off.

The hostages had knocked out the gla.s.s window on the blast proof hangar door. Phil Bas...o...b..had been using the tiny opening as a gun position, providing Tony with cover fire. As the commandos closed on them, Tony glanced over his shoulder. "Tell Dr. Bas...o...b..to lay down more suppressing fire," he cried.

The airman frowned. "Bas...o...b..was killed in the last attack. Lucky shot came right through the hole. I think Dr. Toth has the gun now."

Tony was thrown by the loss. He'd liked the middle-aged, pony-tailed scientist from Berkeley. The irony was that man had protested the Vietnam War, only to die at the hands of a Communist enemy that had invaded his homeland. A ricochet snapped Tony back to reality.

"Tell Toth to start shooting," he yelled.

Shots rang out, inside the hanger and out. Tony dropped to the ground, peeked around the door. One commando had straggled behind the others and Tony picked him off, only to retreat again when a hail of gunfire blasted through the door. Tony rolled to a sitting position, leaned against the wall. He scanned the frightened faces of the others, who were depending on him to save their lives.

We're running out of ammunition and shooters. We can't hold out much longer, Tony mused. Tony mused. I hope Jack made it into Hangar Five. If he can't stop that helicopter from lifting off, we're going to die for nothing... . I hope Jack made it into Hangar Five. If he can't stop that helicopter from lifting off, we're going to die for nothing... .

11:16:31 a.m. PDT Hangar Five, Experimental Weapons Testing Range Groom Lake Air Force Base The Blackfoot's dual engines produced a ear-splitting roar that reverberated inside the ma.s.sive hanger. The noise more resembled the whine of a high-performance jet fighter than the sound of a traditional rotor-bladed helicopter. The Blackfoot also flew faster and higher than any helicopter ever developed - so high the c.o.c.kpit was pressurized and the pilots were required to wear pressure suits.

While gunfire exploded outside, the commandos who served as the ground crew had completed the final flight check. Now they scrambled to get out of the way.

Jong Lee stood at the bottom of the c.o.c.kpit ladder, clad in a form fitting, silver-gray pressure suit, helmet in hand. Leaning close, he issued final instructions to Yizi.

"The old men in Beijing care more about commerce than they do about China," Jong Lee said. "It is up to me to teach them a lesson, and force their hand."

"What will you do?" Yizi asked.

"Before I fly to the base in Mexico, I shall fire the Malignant Wave at downtown Las Vegas. The act will most certainly provoke a war. But with a weapon as terrible as Malignant Wave in China's possession, what can the Americans do but surrender?"

Lee frowned. "My strike will mean that when the Americans come, they will seek revenge for what happened to their city, their people. You must fight them to the death. No one must be taken alive. I expect you to deal with anyone who tries to surrender."

"I understand, Jong Lee." Yizi's face was stony.

The man hesitated before boarding the aircraft. He wanted to say something more to this loyal and courageous young woman, but for the first time in his life, words failed him.

Meanwhile the figure of Captain Hsu emerged from the back of the hangar. He also wore a pressure suit, the featureless helmet and tinted visor covering his head, masking his features. Silently, the man stepped around Jong Lee and climbed the ladder.

Lee touched the woman's arm. She raised her eyes to meet his gaze. "Yizi, I want to..."

"Stop him!" a pained voice interrupted.

The real Captain Hsu stumbled into the center of the hangar, blood trickling from his nose and mouth. He pointed to the figure climbing into the c.o.c.kpit, then pitched to the floor, a stiletto sticking out of his back.

"Hunzhang!" Lee cried, realizing he'd been tricked. Lee cried, realizing he'd been tricked.

Lee raced up the ladder. On the way, the helmet slipped out of his grip. He abandoned it and dived for the hatch. Lee slipped through the automatic door before it closed.

Yizi raced for cover as the Blackfoot lifted off the ground. The stealth helicopter spun in a tight circle inside the hanger. When the helicopter's nose was facing the door, it leaped forward like a race horse leaving the starting gate. The craft paused to hover over the runway, then it suddenly shot straight up, into the bright blue desert sky.

Yizi ran into the sunlight, watched the aircraft rise until it disappeared in the billowing clouds.

11:23:31 a.m. PDT Runway 33R/15L Groom Lake Air Force Base Nina sped along the concrete runway in a cloud of desert dust. She pushed the pedal to the metal, until the rail achieved top speed.

Ahead, commandos heard the sound of her engine. Some fired at the oncoming vehicle. Most scattered, running toward the open hangar.

When she was in range, Nina opened fire. Clutching the steering wheel with her left hand, she fired with her right. She and Curtis had removed the windshield before they left the tank farm in antic.i.p.ation of this attack. She could aim better that way, and she didn't have to shoot through the gla.s.s.

Firing from a moving car wasn't easy, but it was something Nina Myers had learned at The Farm, and she felt a rush of professional satisfaction when two commandos dropped to the tarmac.

When she emptied her dock, she tossed it into the empty seat beside her, grabbed Curtis' gun and opened up again. There were fewer targets this time. Almost everyone had run into the open hangar for protection.

Nina raced past the enemy and skidded to a halt in front of Hangar Six. The blast doors were pitted and pockmarked, but no bullet had penetrated the thick armor. Tony Almeida, clutching an AK-47, limped through the hangar's shattered doorway to greet her.

"You're just in time," Nina said, pointing to a second vehicle fast approaching.

11:24:55 a.m. PDT Runway 33R/15L Groom Lake Air Force Base The battered tanker truck could not keep up with Nina's sandrail - not with a full tank of jet fuel, anyway. Curtis watched helplessly as Nina pulled ahead.

As their vehicles approached the runway, they both watched the high-tech helicopter blast out of the hangar and into sky. Though they were too late to stop someone from escaping, there were still hostages to rescue. By silent consent the CTU agents proceeded with their original plan.

Curtis smiled grimly when she saw Nina speed into the melee, saw dead men in her wake. Best of all, almost everyone ran to the hangar. Curtis aimed for the open door, lashed the steering wheel in place. Then he shifted a steel pipe waiting in the seat next to him.

The truck slowed a bit while Curtis positioned the pipe. Commandos in the hangar opened fire on the truck. When Curtis jammed the pipe between the seat and the accelerator, the truck surged forward.

Time to go.

Curtis popped the door and rolled out. He slammed against the concrete, felt his shoulder pop and cried out. He bounced, then rolled over once, twice, before landing on his back. Groaning, Curtis curled into a protective ball and closed his eyes. Shots pinged the concrete around him. He heard shouts, a crash - and then the explosion.

Flames filled the hangar's interior, incinerating everything and everyone inside. A few howling forms tumbled out of the building. Wrapped in burning fuel, they didn't scream for long.

The hostages burst out of the next hangar, guns ready. But there was no one left to fight. Yizi and the Chinese commandos were all dead.

11:25:07 a.m. PDT Over Emigrant Valley With Jong Lee clawing at his helmet, Jack steered the Blackfoot out of the hangar, then blasted it into the sky. The aircraft's flight characteristics reminded Jack of the Harrier's, but the vortex technology that powered the Blackfoot were far more powerful than the engines on the British fighter jet.

He'd intended to fly away before the other man boarded the helicopter, but Jong Lee figured out the plot and leaped into the helicopter to stop him. The Asian was a skilled and savage fighter, and Jack Bauer would already be dead if he hadn't been wearing the protective helmet.

Bauer knew he could not remain in control of the aircraft and fight for his life at the same time, so he threw the helicopter into vertical ascent and engaged the auto pilot. While the craft shot straight up, Jack unbuckled his safety harness and grappled with his enemy.

The two men wrestled on the floor of the tight compartment. Jack was larger than his opponent, but he was also exhausted and injured, his reactions not at their peak. But the CTU agent had two advantages - he wore a helmet that protected his neck and head, and he was armed.

Jack rolled away from his opponent, yanked the Clock out of his flight suit. Jong spotted the weapon and dived for Jack's gun hand. The men slammed to the cabin floor again, with Jack's left arm pinned under him. Jong Lee gripped Jack's right wrist with both hands, squeezing until Bauer could feel his wrist bones sc.r.a.pe together.

Screaming alarms jangled inside the pressurized cabin. The Blackfoot had reached its flight ceiling. The craft could go no higher without stalling. Yet the auto pilot kept them on course - straight up.

The struggling men ignored the sound. Locked in a stalemate, Jong Lee could not let go of his opponent's arm. Meanwhile Jack could not aim the Glock. In desperation, Jack pulled the trigger anyway.

The shot shattered the c.o.c.kpit windshield, causing the pilot compartment to rapidly decompress. Buffeting winds suddenly filled the cabin, ripping the gun from Jack's hand. Like everything else that wasn't screwed down, the Glock was sucked out the window.

Jong Lee's mouth opened wide. But if the man screamed, Jack could not hear the sound over the roar, the insistent alarm. Finally, Jong Lee released his arm. Free now, Jack grabbed the crash seat and hung on. The other man, his lips blue, eyes bulging, was sucked to the opening.

Amazingly, Jong Lee's corpse plugged the hole, and Jack managed to scramble into the pilot's seat, strap in. With Lee's dead eyes staring at him, Jack disengaged the auto pilot and struggled to regain control. But he was too late. The Blackfoot was locked in a fatal spin, the ground coming up fast.

Jack slammed his palm down on the ejector b.u.t.ton. With a loud bang, the panel above his head blasted away and Jack saw blue sky. Then his spine compressed and the ejector seat rocketed out of the craft.

Twisting in the air, Jack watched the Blackfoot tumble through the clouds. Then Jack felt another jolt as his parachute deployed.

11:57:24 a.m. PDT Emigrant Valley Startled, Morris...o...b..ian jumped up when he heard the Blackfoot slam into the desert. The craft crashed a mile or more away from the wrecked sandrail. Morris watched the plume of orange fire roil and rise, topped by oily black smoke.

"That should get someone's attention," he muttered.

Morris stepped around the wrecked vehicle to gaze up at the sky. He saw the parachute immediately, watched it descend until it came to earth on a bluff a mile away. Grabbing the still useless radio, Morris hiked to the low hill.

He arrived fifteen minutes later, surprised to find Jack Bauer in a torn pressure suit. The CTU agent was seated on a rock, head resting on his knees.

"h.e.l.lo, Jack," said Morris.

Bauer looked up, squinting against the noontime sun. "h.e.l.lo, Morris," he replied.

Jack's hair was askew - the hair that wasn't burned off, that is - and his face was battered like a boxer who'd lost a fight. Yet somehow Jack Bauer managed a smile.

Morris sat beside him. Both men stared at the blue mountain range in the distance. Finally, Morris broke the silence.

"That was a b.l.o.o.d.y long day, eh?"

Acknowledgments.

The author sends out another hearty "w00t" of thanks to Sharon K. Wheeler, software engineer, for her helpful guidance in things digital. And to Vance Cerasini, who offered me a quick lesson in the ARPANET. If there are any errors, or if literary license was taken in the depiction of computer technology in this book (and yes, it was), the responsibility falls entirely with the author.

Special thanks to Will Hinton of HarperCollins for his vision, guidance, and especially for his abundance of patience. Thanks also to Virginia King of 20th Century Fox for her continued support.

Without the groundbreaking, Emmy Award-winning "24" creators Joel Surnow and Robert Cochran, and their talented writing team, this novel would not exist. Special thanks to them and also to Kiefer Sutherland for breathing life into the memorable character of Jack Bauer. An extra-special, extrahearty thanks to Carlos Bernard, too. Tony Almeida, you will will be missed. be missed.

A personal thank-you to my literary agent, John Talbot, for his ongoing support. And a very special thanks to my wife, Alice Alfonsi. A guy couldn't ask for a better partner - in writing or in life.