Chaos Theory (24 Declassified, Book 6)
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A brilliant madman dedicated to anarchy has dark plans for the U.S. In twenty-four hours, America will be plunged into chaos—the result of an unthinkable assassination to be carried out flawlessly—and the government has no inkling of the catastrophe that is about to occur.
Only one man can prevent the nightmare: disgraced rogue CTU operative Jack Bauer. But Bauer's been cut loose, is wanted for murder, and is running from the police, who have orders to shoot to kill. And there's no one he can turn to for help—because a high-level traitor in CTU wants Jack Bauer dead.
graced with great intellect himself, Francis still possessed enough in himself to appreciate it in others. He knew almost nothing about Zapata except that he was brilliant, an anarchist, and incredibly wealthy. Aguillar believed he’d made his money in another life, working in computers. Now he devoted his life to anarchy. Aguillar caught up with him. They walked together in silence until Francis said, “You’re always right.” Zapata nodded and said objectively, “Yes, I’m always right.” 7 THE
people who could check.” “Knock yourself out,” Jack said. Van figured he would. “Uh-huh. Meantime, why the fuck should I help you?” “I come in handy, if there’s any trouble.” Vanowen waggled the gun. “Why’d there be trouble? I got a legitimate business, ask Rami. No reason for trouble.” “If you say so. I just figured if Rami was going to kill someone, there was something worth killing for and you were okay with it.” “I got people to answer to, people who don’t like new faces. I probably
with a middleman named Vanowen. We had hints that Vanowen had done a job for Zapata, planning something here in the U.S. Water, please.” Someone opened a bottle of water. Chappelle wet his lips and continued. “Truth is, Zapata never seems to work with the same people for long. We figured Ramirez and Vanowen would be out of the loop by the time we got to them. I figured the case would dead end, but the worst-case scenario was that Jack Bauer spends a few weeks in jail, and that was all right with
dining room, slamming into the assassin from behind. The newcomer was a big Latino man wearing a wife-beater. But his hands were tied behind his back. He used his shoulder and momentum to ram the Slavic gunman, who stumbled forward into the couch. He spun with an elbow, catching the bound man in the temple. Endorphins masked the pain in Jack’s right arm, but he couldn’t move it, so he jumped up onto the couch and landed heavily on the gunman’s shoulders. He wrapped his left arm around the Slavic
toward a waiting ambulance. A moment or two after the defibrillator had restarted his heart, Chappelle had actually opened his eyes. His eyes rolled for a moment, unfocused, and finally settled on Henderson’s angular face. “Don’t…” he mouthed. The word was barely audible. “Just relax, sir,” the medic said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Chappelle pushed the hand away weakly. “Don’t…” he said again, his voice a faint breath slipping out of his body, “…let…” Henderson leaned close, with Tony