Cat's Claw (24 Declassified, Book 4)
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The world's most powerful leaders are gathering in Los Angeles for the G-8 summit, unaware that they have been targeted by two separate terrorist groups, each with its own lethal agenda. Uncovering and disarming one bomb would be difficult enough; eliminating both will be nearly impossible.
On the trail of a rabid Islamic assassin, rogue CTU agent Jack Bauer doesn't know that another conspiracy is brewing around him—a poisonous plot to violently dictate the future of the free world. If Bauer does nothing, in twenty-four hours the entire planet may be plunged into chaos, its primary heads of state ruthlessly destroyed. But if he acts, his daughter Kim will die instead.
walls. Gordon Gleed kept a home office, which had now been turned upside down, with most of the contents of his mahogany desk dumped across the top. The blue box of a Linksys wireless router sat in a corner, its lights still on, but the wireless laptop, if it existed, was now gone. The kitchen had been ransacked, plates broken and dish drawers left open. Even the refrigerator had been searched. By the time Mercy returned to the living room, Sam and his team were packing up. “We’re ready to move
he was concerned, a crowd of people engaged in protest were exercising their rights in a democracy. He risked his life to defend that right, whether he agreed with them or not. But a mob that destroyed property and caused violence was just a bunch of low-level terrorists. Jack’s cell phone rang and he flipped it open. It was someone at CTU. “Bauer.” “Jack, it’s Chris. I’ve got the surveillance team at the Federal Building on the line.” Jack looked down at the floor, as though he could see
and a T-shirt, but his short-cropped hair, angular build, and air of authority gave him away. Of course, al-Libbi would have known he was an agent even without these clues. He had been warned that the Secret Service might occupy the house. “Can I help you?” the young man said. “I guess,” al-Libbi said, affecting a Mexican accent nearly identical to that of the gardener he had murdered. With only a day’s growth of scruffy beard, dark skin, and the accent, he could pass for Latino. He’d done it
human being in about twenty-four hours. In the rural Amazon, it often took more than a week to hike out of the deep jungle just to get to any kind of transportation. Explorers might have “discovered” the virus a thousand times in the last three or four centuries, but no one would ever have survived long enough to carry it into civilization. The virus, in its native form, was terrifying. Within twenty-four hours it caused lesions in the skin that erupted so quickly that the skin seemed to come
please,” she said to the passing bartender. “You know what you like, don’t you?” Odolova said, seeming genuinely pleased. “Now, what is it I can help you with?” Her voice was breezy, nothing that stood out. Jessi did not have her skill, and did not pretend to. “Is Novartov having a classified meeting with us and the Chinese tonight? Is that Tuman’s target?” she asked softly. Odolova flicked her wrist as though tapping away the ashes of an imaginary cigarette. “See, you can tell a lot about a