The intelligent facial recognition system that Owen asked Nikki to use was officially called the "Smart Facial Identification System." Considering the time since their raid in Venice—about ten days—Nikki's task was to run a full scan of every surveillance feed in Washington from the past ten days. That meant train stations, airports, highways, streets, shops—any footage accessible by the NSA had to be checked. The volume of data was massive, and results wouldn't come quickly.
Although Owen and CTU were growing increasingly anxious, all they could do was wait.
"Have a cup of coffee. You look exhausted..." Jenny handed Owen a coffee, her concern evident.
"Don't push yourself too hard."
"Thanks."
Owen took a sip. The coffee at CTU was high-quality—they often pulled all-nighters. Jack Bauer might be a workaholic, but he never skimped on the essentials. Owen closed his eyes to rest, though his mind kept churning: if he were Avril, what would he do with those Stinger missiles?
Thinking soon gave way to fatigue, and he drifted into sleep without realizing it. He had pushed himself too hard over the past few weeks while hunting Makarov, going days without sleep. Not even coffee could hold off sleep forever.
Monica, seeing her boyfriend finally doze off, quietly brought over a blanket from the lounge and covered him with care.
Owen slipped into unconsciousness. It wasn't clear how long he'd been out when the ringing of a phone jolted him awake. Groggy, he picked up—it was Nikki calling.
"Owen, the results are in..."
"Wh... what?"
"I said the facial match results are in. What are you doing?"
"Oh, sorry... I just woke up. Yeah, what's the outcome?"
Owen shook his head, trying to clear the fog.
"We didn't find Avril, but we did locate the other one—the Asian guy, Zheng Anshun. It's all thanks to the recent optimization I did to our system's algorithm for East Asian facial features..."
"Send it to me, Nikki, send it right now!"
Cutting off her self-congratulation, Owen urgently wanted any lead on White Mask.
"Okay, I've already sent it."
Owen received the photo and immediately opened it. Though blurry, the figure had about an 80% match to Zheng Anshun. The surroundings looked chaotic—not like a city.
"Where is this?"
"Outskirts of Washington, near the Pilyanko Waste Processing Facility. The owner's name is Pilyanko Bomanov, Russian descent, been in the U.S. for seven years, has a green card..."
"A garbage processing plant? What's he doing there?"
"No clue. That's for you to find out."
Nikki shrugged over the phone—computers couldn't do everything. Human verification was still necessary in many cases.
Owen realized it had been a dumb question. "Thanks a lot, Nikki."
"No problem. Let me know if you need anything else."
As the call ended, Owen stared at the photo, deep in thought. What would Zheng Anshun be doing at a garbage plant? Given the owner was Russian, maybe they were hiding out there?
The idea gave Owen a jolt of energy. No more sleepiness.
"Gear up, people—three minutes and we roll out!"
In less than three minutes, Owen and the Quick Response Team were barreling out of CTU's garage. With their recent high mission tempo, their gear was always ready to go. The extra time was just enough for Owen to inform Jack.
Roughly a kilometer from the facility, they parked and proceeded on foot.
"Jenny, what's the situation?"
Owen checked in while advancing. Jenny was running point for this op herself. The remote location had limited CCTV coverage, so she had secured satellite support for the mission.
"All clear so far. You and Team B are equidistant from the target. Maintain current pace and continue the approach."
Watching the satellite feed, Jenny saw both teams closing in from two directions. Because of White Mask's notorious combat effectiveness, Owen had specifically requested support from the Washington tactical unit to execute a pincer movement.
"All units, stay alert. The enemy may have snipers. Keep to cover."
Owen reminded everyone as both squads moved in. Once both teams reached their positions, Jenny confirmed: still nothing unusual.
Swag reported in from his sniper perch—everything seemed normal. His vantage point provided overwatch. But the lack of resistance unsettled Owen. No guards, no activity—it didn't add up.
Despite the oddities, both teams continued. The perimeter tightened. Still no movement. Owen had Team B cover while he led the Quick Response Team inside.
They'd expected a firefight, but the place was deserted. After searching, it was clear: no sign of White Mask. Everything was oddly clean for a garbage processing plant—clean in the sense that there were no indicators of recent occupancy or operation.
Except for one room.
There, a man snored loudly—alone.
Startled awake, reeking of alcohol, the man seemed confused. Upon seeing their weapons, he screamed in terror, thinking they were robbers.
"Pilyanko Bomanov?" Owen barked.
"Y-yeah... that's me."
The drunk stammered, trembling. Owen shot him a look of disdain—this was the weakest Russian he had ever seen. Total disgrace to the term "warrior race."
"Tell me where Avril is."
"I... I don't know any Avril... ahhh—!"
Before he could finish, he screamed. Ghost had stepped in. He was much more experienced in interrogation. But no matter what methods Ghost used, the man's answer remained the same.
At this point, Owen began to doubt the lead. He exchanged glances with the others, then showed Bomanov pictures of Avril and Zheng Anshun.
"Have you seen these two?"
"S-seen... seen the man. He came by with another guy a few days ago. They stole two of my garbage trucks..."
What?
Everyone looked at each other, puzzled. Why would Zheng Anshun steal garbage trucks?
At least it was a lead. Owen relayed the info to Jenny, who began scanning CTU's databases for sightings of the trucks. They were large vehicles—should be traceable.
"Take him with us."
Heartbeat bound Bomanov's hands with zip ties, then dragged him by the collar to the vehicle. Regardless of whether he was truly linked to White Mask, they were taking him back to CTU for questioning.
(End of Chapter)
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