Read 24 Declassified: Head Shot (2009) for Free Online

other had said but that committed him to nothing. He peeled off from Neal, light-footing it at quick time south along the front of the mess hall, down to the southeast corner. Neal rounded the northeast corner, vanishing from sight.
    Jack edged along the short south face of the building, keeping close to the wall and crouching low to avoid the oblongs of yellow light shining out through the mess hall windows. More rattling sounded from behind the back of the building.
    Maybe it was a bear. Jack’s Beretta was armed with cartridges that were made up with a hot hand-loaded powder mix he had on special order. Each round was a potent man-stopper. Would it have the same effect on a charging bear? He’d hate to have to find out. He had no relish for reporting such an encounter to Ryan Chappelle.
    Jack halted at the southwest corner of the mess hall, back flat against the wall. He peeked around the corner.
    The back of the mess hall wasn’t as well-lit as the front. There were fewer windows to let the light shine through. The scarcity of electric light was compensated for by the moonlight. A concrete loading platform jutted out at the midpoint of the building’s rear. A Dumpster and a clump of garbage cans stood nearby. A stooped, shaggy figure stood swaying upright among the garbage cans, rummaging around inside them.
    Neal stepped out from behind the building’s north face into view, holding his gun levelled at the indistinct shape that stood reeling on two legs.
    Jack stepped into the open in the moonlight so Neal could see he was in position. Neal shouted, “Freeze!”
    The shape started, knocking over some garbage cans, stumbling over them, raising a racket as it tried to get clear of them. It fell, crawling on all fours. Jack and Neal closed in from both ends.
    The figure scrambled upright and started to run. It wasn’t a bear, it was a man. A shaggy man. Jack and Neal moved to intercept him.
    The shaggy man started across the open space toward the fence. Jack double-timed at a tangent to cross his path. The shaggy man’s hands were empty. If he had a weapon he hadn’t drawn it.
    He was big, even running stooped forward as he was, big and thick- bodied. Jack neared him. The other looked like the last of the mountain men, with dark shoulder-length hair and a full beard. He was clumsy, unsteady on his feet.
    Jack ploughed into him sideways, slamming his right shoulder, upper arm, and elbow into the shaggy man’s left side, knocking him off balance. The shaggy man fell sprawling into the dirt, crying out in terror.
    He was still in the game. He rolled and got his legs under him, standing on his knees. His hand darted to his right side, drawing a knife worn there in a belt sheath. A hunting knife with a wickedly curved and gleaming eighteen-inch blade.
    Jack’s foot lashed out in a front snap kick to the shaggy man’s wrist, sending the knife flying from his hand.
    Neal came up behind him and laid his gun barrel behind the back of the shaggy man’s ear, rapping his skull hard enough to stun him but not so hard as to knock him out. The shaggy man fell forward face-first into the dirt.
    Neal’s mouth was open, he was breathing hard. Jack said, “Damned funny bears you grow out here!”
    Neal said, “That’s no bear and no Zealot, either. Who in the hell is he?”
    “Let’s find out.”

THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 4 A.M. AND 5 A.M. MOUNTAIN DAYLIGHT TIME
     
    Red Notch, Colorado
     
    The shaggy man wore a flannel shirt, overalls, and work boots. He lay facedown in the dirt. Neal stood on one knee beside him, holding the muzzle of the .357 against the back of his skull. He said, “Keep still.”
    The other grunted something that could have been an affirmative. He remained motionless while Neal’s free hand gave him a pat-down frisk, searching him for weapons, finding none.
    Jack’s gun hand hung along his side. He held the knife that he’d picked up in his free hand. The ball of his foot still