Just as Owen and Tony were discussing the journalist, the phone on Tony's desk suddenly rang. He picked it up, gave a couple of brief responses, then hung up and said to Owen, "Chloe's found something. We'd better take a look."
They went downstairs to Chloe's workstation. She pointed at some code on her screen and said, "I just cracked into his email. There are a few encrypted messages. The encryption was pretty basic—I broke it pretty easily. Here's the content..."
Chloe typed a few commands, and the decrypted emails appeared on the screen. Owen skimmed through them. The content was vague but did indeed mention "White Mask" and "Four Horsemen."
Owen frowned. Something about the messages felt... off. He looked at Tony, who seemed deep in thought as well. Then he turned to Chloe. She shrugged and said, "Looks like you noticed it too. These emails are too simplistic. It's like they were meant to be broken—basic encryption, like they were deliberately leaving a backdoor."
Exactly what Owen had been feeling. The messages triggered a sense of unease—too clear, too easy, too suspicious.
Just as they were about to say more, Joshua's voice came through the earpiece. "We've got something. Looks like another group is tailing the journalist."
Owen's heart skipped a beat. Another group? This wasn't speculation anymore—this was real, actionable intel. That group could very well be White Mask. Owen grabbed the comms unit immediately.
"Joshua, it's Owen. Do not engage. Just keep eyes on them. I'm on my way."
He put down the comms and ran for the door.
"Catch!" Tony tossed him the car keys, and Owen caught them in stride, heading out as the roar of the engine echoed outside.
This was Owen's home turf. He knew every street in Los Angeles like the back of his hand. He tore through the city, speeding, drifting through corners, running red lights—anything to shave off seconds.
Soon enough, the wail of a siren came from behind him. Owen cursed under his breath. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw a squad car on his tail, lights flashing.
He considered outrunning it but quickly realized the driver wasn't just any cop—this one had serious skills. The cruiser kept up for several blocks and was even closing in.
With no other choice, Owen eased off the gas and pulled over. He decided to flash his credentials and talk his way out—better that than ruining the whole operation.
He stayed still in the driver's seat, hands visible, as the officer approached—standard protocol to avoid misunderstandings.
From the mirror, Owen spotted the cop stepping out—and his jaw nearly dropped.
"Old man George?! You... you're doing patrol now?"
George, the grizzled veteran detective, looked just as stunned. "Steve?!"
Then his face broke into a huge grin. "Well, I'll be damned. When did you get back to L.A.? You could've said something—we'd have grabbed a drink."
"Uh... I just got back today. But what's this?" Owen gestured at the patrol uniform. George used to run the Major Crimes Unit. Even Chief Haviland showed him respect. What happened?
"Oh, this? I asked for it. I'm almost at retirement, and lately I've been thinking about the old days—walking the beat, simple but meaningful. Major Crimes is all big cases, political crap. I just wanted something different. So here I am."
Owen nodded. That made sense. No one else could've reassigned George—only he had the clout to do it himself.
Owen checked his watch, then said apologetically, "Old man, I'm on urgent assignment. Gotta run. But I'll stop by the precinct and see everyone once I'm free."
"Go on, go. Just be careful out there, and don't get yourself hurt."
With George's fatherly farewell, Owen rolled up the window, gunned the engine, and sped off again.
He quickly arrived at Joshua's location. A surveillance van was parked by the roadside. Owen knocked on the back door, which opened just wide enough for him to slip inside. It closed again behind him.
The van was packed with surveillance gear. Besides Joshua, there was a new face—someone who must've joined CTU after Owen's departure.
"You made it," Joshua greeted him.
Owen nodded. "What's the situation?"
"I think... we've got some overlap here."
"What do you mean?"
"See that van across the street? That's the other team tailing the journalist. We know they're here. And they know we're here too. I ran the plate—Chloe traced it to a print shop. According to intel, that shop's a CIA front."
Owen's frown deepened. "You're saying CIA's watching the same target?"
"I'm afraid so," Joshua confirmed. "And technically... they got here first."
Owen hadn't expected this twist, but he wasn't worried. Omega had top-tier counterterrorism authority. If he declared a case theirs, even the CIA or DoD had to back off.
Still, to avoid misunderstandings, Owen decided to talk to them first. He climbed out of the van and walked toward the surveillance van across the street.
He knocked. The door opened—and Owen nearly did a double take. The guy opening the door was none other than Carlos.
Inside the van, two other agents turned to look—Harry and Simon. All familiar faces. Owen couldn't help but smirk at the realization: this was Team Seven, the group that had operated with him in Switzerland. Carlos had even been his recommendation.
Team Seven was their internal codename. Their formal title? Omega Team—same name, different agency. One belonged to the CIA, the other to CTU.
"What a coincidence..." Owen said awkwardly.
"Get in," Harry said, shrugging. "I'm guessing you've got questions."
Twenty minutes later, Owen emerged from the van looking like he'd swallowed something vile. As it turned out, this whole situation had been a setup. There was no journalist, no secret intel, no White Mask or Four Horsemen. The CIA had fabricated the entire scenario as part of a mole hunt. The journalist was bait, but instead of catching their rat, they'd accidentally roped in CTU.
What a mess. Owen had flown all the way from D.C. for this—and it was all just a wild goose chase.
With the truth clear, there was nothing more to do. Owen decided to stay one more day in L.A. to catch up with old friends, then head back to Washington the day after.
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