The Terrorist's Daughter
A 24 fanfic
Part 2
"Can you describe the men who tried to kidnap you?" the first policeman asked.
"They were wearing white gloves," Gette remembered. "Like a butler, except they weren't. And they had baseball caps on."
"I saw two men walking away just as we pulled up," Agent Edmunds said to his partner. "They were both wearing baseball caps."
"Anything else?" That was the policeman again.
"They had ... sores ... on their faces." There was another word that Gette was looking for, but she couldn't remember it. "Like a rash, but worse."
Both of the federal agents reacted to her simple statement, giving each other startled looks. Then Agent Bauer said, "Officers, can I talk to you for a minute? Chase, stay with her."
They walked across the lawn and Agent Bauer spoke in low tones that Gettte couldn't hear. After a question or two, the police got into their car and started the engine. They backed out onto the street, leaving two strips of tire marks in the lawn, and Agent Bauer returned to the porch. "Georgette, we need to take you to CTU now."
"Why?" she asked. "What is CTU, anyway?"
"Counter-Terrorist Unit," he explained. "Would you come with us, please?"
"Why?" she asked again. "Did I do something wrong? It was self-defense!"
"You didn't do anything wrong," Agent Bauer said. "We need to talk to you about your father. Come on."
"But he's dead." Gette looked from one agent to the other. "Isn't he?"
"That's what we need to find out," Agent Edmunds put in.
"Georgette, we're running out of time," Agent Bauer said. "Let's go."
Gette ignored the hint and closed her eyes to think. She'd been so convinced that her father was dead, but now she was no longer, as Agent Bauer had put it, one hundred percent sure. Two completely different sets of people had indicated that he was alive. Could it be true? Had the military made a mistake and reported the wrong death? "But if he's been alive all this time, why didn't he tell us? Why did he let Mom and me think he was dead?"
"There's been a terrorist threat to Los Angeles this morning," Agent Bauer said. "We have reason to believe that your father is behind it. If he'd been planning something like that, then it's possible he faked his own death --"
"No," Gette said, pulling the ice away from her face and standing up to face him. "My father was a soldier, a patriot! He gave his life for his country -- he would never get involved in terrorist activities. That's ridiculous. You're wrong. You're completely wrong!"
"Then come to CTU with us and prove it," Agent Bauer said.
"All right, I will!" Gette exclaimed heatedly. "I just need to find the key and lock up, and then we can go!"
Gette staggered into the hallway, glancing around for the key. She must have dropped it when the door had hit her, because she didn't remember having it in her fingers after her nose had started bleeding. But the hallway was full of letters that had spilled when the table had tipped over. Leaning down to pick them up, Gette groaned at the pain the movement brought.
"What were you doing behind the door anyway?" Agent Edmunds asked as Gette tilted her head back and applied the ice to her nose again.
"Looking for the key," she retorted from behind the bag, then added a question of her own. "How'd you guys get in, anyway?"
"We picked the lock," Agent Bauer reported as though it were the most normal thing in the world. He'd squeezed into the hallway, too, blocking the light from outside, and now he peered around behind the half-open door. "Is that it?"
Gette looked down to where he was pointing, and saw the key on the floor by the wall. "Yeah."
Agent Bauer picked it up and placed it into Gette's outstretched hand. Seeing the difference between his clean fingers and her bloody ones, she said, "Can I clean up a little first?"
"We don't have a lot of time," Agent Bauer said with what sounded like forced patience. "You can clean up at CTU. Come on."
They went out. As soon as Gette had locked up, Agent Edmunds placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her to the SUV. He opened the back door and helped her in, then jogged around to the other side. Agent Bauer remained on Gette's side of the car until Agent Edmunds had climbed into the seat next to her, then went around the front and got behind the wheel.
"Why do you think it's my father?" Gette asked as Agent Bauer backed the car out of the driveway. Just as he'd shifted gears, there was the sound of two gunshots, and the back of the SUV dipped suddenly. Gette turned around in time to see a third shot hit the back windscreen, leaving only a small round blemish on the glass, and cried out as the short man in the baseball cap ran up to the car. Just when she thought he was going to crash into it, he dropped to the ground, and a moment later, there was a scrape and a dull thunk from underneath the SUV.
"Jack! Get out!" Agent Edmunds shouted, flinging open the door on his side. Panicked, Gette reached for the handle of her door, but Agent Edmunds reached over and clamped one arm around her neck, yanking her back as she tried to open it. From outside, the taller man called out, "Let her go! We've punctured the gas tank of the car! We'll blow it up!"
"Then you'll kill her, too!" Agent Bauer said. Turning her head, Gette could just see his back. He was standing directly outside the vehicle, having been stopped immediately after getting out.
"But at least you won't be able to use her against us," the taller man said. "Now let her go!"
Use her against them? Gette wondered what he meant. Hadn't the federal agents told her that they only wanted to talk about her father? How on earth could they use her when she didn't know anything?
"I'm sure her father wants her alive," Agent Bauer went on. "If you mess up, he'll kill you."
"We're dead anyway," the taller man said in the most offhand voice Gette had ever heard. It made her skin crawl.
"Chase, let her go," Agent Bauer said.
As soon as Agent Edmunds had let go of her, Gette slid across the seat and opened her door. The road was wet and there was a strong smell of gasoline. As she searched for a dry spot to place her feet, the smaller man appeared in front of her, reaching for her arm with one gloved hand, and holding a lethal-looking knife in the other.
"Come on!" he snarled, dragging her out.
"Are you really working with my father?" Gette asked as she stumbled along behind him.
"Yes!"
Stopping dead, Gette pulled her arm back. She wasn't able to free it, but she was able to stop the man from dragging her any farther. "I don't believe you. If he's really alive, I want to talk to him first."
"You can talk to him when you see him," the man said, tugging at her again.
"I'm not going anywhere with anybody who's just threatened to blow me up!" Gette snarled back, digging in her feet. "I can't believe my father would --"
The man turned to face her, bringing the knife up, but Gette had already anticipated the movement. With her free hand, she struck out, knocking his arm at the same time as she lifted her foot and slammed it into his knee. He went down backwards with a high-pitched scream of agony, and she turned and ran.
She wasn't sure where to go, except away. There was the sound of gunshots behind her, which maded her flinch, then a masculine shout of pain, which made her run even faster. An interesection was coming up, and a car drove past; Gette took a shortcut across the lawn of the corner house and continued her escape on the sidewalk. If she could circle around the various streets without getting caught, maybe she could make it back to the store. There was a phone there; she could call her mother or the police -- or somebody!
"Georgette!" Somebody behind her was calling her name, but Gette didn't look back. A moment later, a bicycle shot past her on the street, with Agent Edmunds pedalling hard. He called out again, "Georgette! Stop!"
She spared him a quick look. Was that her bicycle he was riding? But then she had to glance away; somebody had laid a hose across the sidewalk to water the grass on the parking, and she barely avoided tripping over it.
"Stop!" he called again. "Georgette! I don't wanna have to shoot you!"
Gette ignored him and continued to run. Increasing his speed, he turned into a driveway about fifty yards ahead, then came up onto the sidewalk and bore down on her. He was holding the handlebars with one hand, now he pulled his gun from his holster and pointed it at her.
"Stop!" he shouted a third time. "Put your hands on your head or I'll shoot!"
Gette stopped, breathing hard, then put her hands up. Stepping on the brakes, Agent Edmunds brought the bike to a halt a few feet in front of her, then put one foot down.
"It's okay," he told her. "You're safe now. We've got the hostiles in custody."
Gette couldn't think of anything to say, so she just stared at him and continued to take deep breaths.
"You're bleeding," Agent Edmunds said, lowering his gun. "Your arm."
Wonderingly, Gette lowered her arms and looked at both of them. Just above her watch band on her left wrist, there was a gash she hadn't noticed at all, and blood had run all the way down to her elbow. She must have cut herself on the man's knife and the adrenaline had kept her from feeling anything until then.
"Here." Agent Edmunds reached into a pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, then used the bike as a scooter and rolled forward to hand it to her. Wondering if a handkerchief was as much a part of the official government agent equipment as a gun, Gette took it and wrapped it around the gash.
"Come on, let's get back." He holstered his weapon, then swung his leg over the back of the bike. Holding it with one hand, he caught her shoulder with the other and gently turned her in the right direction. They walked back to where the SUV was still in the middle of the street, and Gette caught her breath as she saw Agent Bauer bending over the taller man, pumping rhythmically away at his chest. The smaller man was lying where she'd left him, and as she approached, she could see a dark pool of liquid under his head and neck. Horrified, she stopped walking, but couldn't stop staring.
"Jack?" Agent Edmunds asked, shoving the bike onto the nearest patch of grass and running to his partner.
Sitting back on his heels, Agent Bauer sighed. "When I started to question him, he tried to jump me."
He didn't say he'd shot him. He didn't have to.
"And him?" Agent Edmunds indicated the other man, then glanced around for Gette, obviously making sure she was still there.
"He slit his own throat. They were both willing to die rather than risk giving up anything about this thing to-day." Agent Bauer swore loudly, then leaned over the body again, patting him down. Finding the cell phone that the tall man had used earlier, he slipped it into his own pocket. "I've radioed CTU; they're sending a chopper."
Still staring, Gette didn't know what to think. She hadn't believed that her father had sent those men, not after hearing that they were willing to blow her up -- but what if he had? What if he really was still alive? If she hadn't fought the men, if she'd gone with them, would she have seen him? Remembering him brought an ache to her heart and tears to her eyes. His death had come as a surprise; she hadn't realized how much she'd loved him until she knew she'd never see him again.
Her vision blurred, enabling her to look away at last, and she became aware again of the pain in her arm. The pain in her face was coming back, too, and she felt blood starting to trickle from her nose. Without thinking, she began to walk towards the house.
"Georgette!" She didn't have to look to recognize Agent Edmunds' voice.
"I just want to sit down," she replied. She heard the sound of a car door being opened, but didn't look. By the time she reached the porch, Agent Edmunds had caught up with her. He was carrying a large first aid kit, and also had the ice bag that she'd dropped in the SUV.
"Let me look at that cut," he said. Putting the ice bag to her face, Gette extended her arm, and Agent Edmunds began to bandage it. He'd just barely finished when Gette heard the sound of a helicopter.
The policeman came back with a bag of crushed ice cubes. Grateful for the interruption, Gette applied it carefully to her eye and the bridge of her nose.