Martin stepped forward and pointed to the electronic panel. "Mr. President, it's your turn now…"
President Palmer was clearly no stranger to this place. With practiced ease, he leaned in to initiate the iris scan. A beam of red light swept across his eye—access granted. Then he placed his palm on the screen—access granted once more. The metal door gave off a mechanical hum and slowly began to open.
Everyone's eyes were fixed on the door. Jack Bauer, meanwhile, was seeing the legendary PEOC for the first time. Buried deep underground, the Presidential Emergency Operations Center was impervious to conventional explosives, even nuclear detonations.
Only two layers of verification were required to access the PEOC: iris scan and palm print, both exclusive to the President. It wasn't that more layers weren't possible, but under emergencies like this, speed was paramount. Additional steps might cost precious seconds.
Jack, still on edge from Owen's earlier warning, was keeping a close eye on everyone—especially everyone except President Palmer. That was how he caught Martin's subtle but suspicious movement.
Once verification passed, everyone stood still, waiting for the door to finish opening. But Martin casually stepped back. It seemed innocent—but to Jack, it was anything but. Martin was the head of security. He should have been positioned in front of the President at all times.
As the PEOC door opened, the secure command center inside came into view. The room wasn't large, but filled with workstations and embedded electronic systems. It was the nation's last-ditch command hub—from here, the President could lead the military, issue orders, even launch nuclear missiles.
Inside the room, a row of military personnel stood waiting to greet the President.
"Gentlemen—" President Palmer began, saluting. But before he could finish—
Bang!
Gunfire rang out from behind. The President flinched, bullets whizzing past him. Around him, Secret Service agents, Marines, and staff were struck and fell.
Behind them all, Martin was holding a P229 and firing with surgical precision—one shot per target. Jack lunged at him the moment he saw him draw the weapon, but Martin had anticipated this. He stepped aside, opened fire, and the first bullet hit Jack.
Jack collapsed.
Martin ignored whether Jack's body armor had stopped the round—he just needed Jack out of the way. The priority was to eliminate everyone else. He could finish off Jack later.
As bodies dropped around them, Jack fought through the pain. The bullet had struck his chest, but his vest had absorbed most of the impact. Gritting his teeth, he leapt up and dragged President Palmer into the PEOC.
Behind them, Martin discarded his emptied P229 and picked up a Marine's assault rifle, spraying wildly at their retreating forms. Jack ducked and dodged as he pushed the President forward. Bullets shredded everything around them—monitors burst into flames, sparks flying, the workstation turning to debris.
Jack and Palmer took cover behind one of the machines.
"Come out, Jack," Martin called from the doorway, not stepping closer. "I know how good you are, but you're not getting out of this. You should've walked away when you had the chance…"
He didn't know exactly where they were hiding, but he was confident they were behind the machinery in front of him. He wasn't taking chances.
Jack signaled to President Palmer with a glance. The President nodded, then shouted, voice trembling, "Martin! Martin, you bastard! Why are you doing this?!"
Martin turned toward the voice. That was exactly the point—he didn't want to kill the President, but if Palmer gave away their position, he could flush Jack out.
But Jack used the momentary distraction to crawl silently around to the other side of the machine—a basic psychological trick, but still effective.
Palmer continued shouting, part bluff, part genuine rage. "Dammit, haven't I treated you well? Why, Martin? You killed your own men, you goddamn traitor!"
And it wasn't just a tactic—Palmer was genuinely furious. The two Secret Service agents Martin had gunned down had been close personal guards, men who had worked alongside him and Martin for years. He couldn't comprehend such betrayal.
"I'm done listening to your hypocrisy," Martin growled. "You abandoned everything this country stands for. Cozying up to Iran, pulling troops out of the Middle East—do you know how many soldiers died there? You're spitting on their sacrifice."
"So it's about Billy, isn't it? Your son? He died in the Middle East, and now you—"
"Yes!" Martin's composure cracked. "I gave my entire life to this country. And now you make my son's death meaningless. He looks like a damn fool! You don't deserve to lead. You're a coward—"
Martin's voice broke. The pain was real, and for a split second, he lost focus. That was all Jack needed.
From behind the equipment, Jack lunged, slamming into Martin from the side. He had no weapon—just his body.
Martin saw the shadow too late. He tried to swing the rifle around and pulled the trigger—but Jack's momentum hit him like a freight train. The two tumbled out the doorway together.
Beep—
The electronic door chime sounded. Jack, gritting his teeth against the pain, slammed his hand against the panel. The PEOC door began to close. Martin scrambled to his feet, lunging for the door with a crazed look in his eyes, but he was too slow. The door sealed shut with a heavy finality, muffling his roar of frustration.
Just then, Jack's phone rang.
He was in bad shape. The earlier shot had pierced his vest—nonfatal, but serious.
He picked up. Owen's voice crackled through the line. "Jack, what's your status?"
"Not good. I'm hit…"
"Where are you?"
Owen's heart clenched.
"I'm in the PEOC. President Palmer is with me. Martin was the traitor—he killed everyone else. But for now, we're safe. Just the two of us in here. No one else can get in."
Owen exhaled. At least they were safe for now. "The President—is he okay?"
"I'm fine, Owen," said President Palmer, his voice strong.
Owen's tone immediately shifted. "Thank God, Mr. President. Please, tell me exactly where the PEOC is located. I'm coming to get you."
Jack was injured—Owen had to help.
Palmer replied, "There's a hidden door in the East Wing library. It leads to an elevator that goes straight to the safe room."
"Understood, Mr. President. I'll be there as soon as I can. Until then, please take care of Jack. If anything comes up, call me. Also—try to establish communication with the outside. They must be worried sick about you both…"
(End of Chapter)
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