With the Cruel Angels crushed, their core members either dead or captured, and all their strongholds devastated, the public saw it as the conclusion to the Los Angeles premiere bombing. The media, sensing the shift, smartly pivoted their focus toward celebrating the "Spirit of Los Angeles."
But for CTU, the matter was far from over.
In truth, the Cruel Angels had merely been scapegoats. The real orchestrators were the White Mask group—and CTU knew next to nothing about them.
They only knew that Avril and her cohorts were CIA defectors. What role Avril played within White Mask, how many members there were, and what their objectives might be—CTU had no clue.
Even though they had captured a White Mask operative, they hadn't extracted any useful intel.
Four days had passed, and despite every interrogation method available, CTU had failed to make Zheng Anshun speak.
Another shadow that surfaced was the Syndicate. This mysterious organization had long been rumored to exist, but most considered it legend—no concrete evidence had ever been captured.
Even now, little had changed. Anthony and Bernie had been the only ones who could verify the Syndicate's existence, and they were both dead.
Owen knew more than he could say. The Syndicate had been a discarded MI5 project that some hidden players had secretly preserved and expanded into a giant.
But he couldn't reveal that. In this world, those who knew too much were often the first to disappear. Owen decided to investigate on his own.
"Alright. Safe travels..."
Owen hung up the phone and stepped out of a small meeting room. It had been Julia Andrews calling to say goodbye. She was leaving Los Angeles.
They had hoped to catch up at the premiere, but after the bombing, everything changed. Owen had been buried in work until now.
Julia's star had soared in the aftermath. Her compassion and bravery during the crisis had captured the nation's heart. Compared to the aloof diva image she had once cultivated, people found this real, kind-hearted superstar far more appealing.
Her fanbase exploded. Her management was thrilled, overwhelmed by the flood of new opportunities.
A few days earlier, CTU had honored its $500,000 bounty.
Two men had claimed it: Eddie Murphys, who provided the location of the bomb, and Chen Mike, who answered Jessica's distress call.
At the press conference, Tony had awarded the prize—each receiving $250,000.
Of course, both had worn black hoods, covering nearly every inch of their skin, to ensure anonymity. The media couldn't even tell if they were Black or White.
Eddie wasn't thrilled. He'd hoped to keep the full amount for himself, believing the bomb intel was far more critical.
Chen Mike, however, was delighted. For him, the money was a windfall that brought his dream of opening a chain of martial arts gyms one step closer.
"Owen—"
Tony called out from the second-floor office.
Owen climbed the stairs and shut the door behind him.
Sitting behind his desk, Tony said, "Owen, the state prosecutor's office is breathing down our necks. Zheng Anshun has been in our custody for more than 48 hours, and they've been pushing for action.
Benjamin from the FBI called earlier. They found links between Zheng and a weapons smuggling route. They want him transferred to their custody. I agreed. Take a team and hand him over."
Owen nodded. After four fruitless days, handing Zheng over was no big loss.
Besides, during the recent operations, Benjamin Affleck from the FBI had been highly cooperative—offering real help without trying to steal the spotlight. CTU owed him a goodwill gesture.
Owen had a good impression of Benjamin personally. He was connected, pragmatic, and easy to work with—no wonder Womack had trusted him to run the L.A. office alone while he headed to Washington.
At 4:00 p.m., the FBI team arrived on time. Owen shook hands with Benjamin and formally transferred Zheng Anshun.
Once Benjamin signed the paperwork, Owen escorted them to the door.
As Owen was about to say goodbye, Benjamin opened his car door and asked, "Owen, got time to chat for a minute?"
Owen saw that Benjamin looked serious, so after a quick word to Heartbeat, he climbed into the passenger seat.
Benjamin waved his driver off and got behind the wheel himself.
Behind them, Zheng Anshun—wearing an orange jumpsuit—was loaded into a prison van. The agents cuffed him to a wall bracket inside. As the heavy door closed, the convoy started rolling.
In the Cadillac, Benjamin drove while Owen sat silently beside him. Their six-vehicle convoy quickly left the CTU premises.
The FBI understood how dangerous the White Mask operatives were—these were the kind of people who would use machine guns in city streets without a second thought. So they had come heavily armed.
If it hadn't been politically problematic to deploy SWAT without an active crisis, Benjamin would've done it. The only good news was that the White Mask seemed to have left California for now.
"Owen, here's the thing..."
Benjamin cleared his throat and continued, "Womack wants FBI SWAT and CTU's tactical team to train together from now on—joint exercises, joint missions.
This was discussed privately between Jack Bauer and Womack. I'm not sure what the exact deal was. Organizationally, both units remain separate, but training and operations will be combined."
Owen was stunned. Tony hadn't said a word about this.
Still, no matter how you looked at it, this could only strengthen CTU.
FBI SWAT was legendary in Los Angeles—the pride of Womack's career. Every new member was personally vetted by Womack himself.
Their standards were incredibly strict. Even after nearly a year since a loss in Team A, only two new members had been added, and Team B still hadn't been reformed.
Owen didn't know what kind of offer Jack Bauer had made to convince Womack, but the result would undeniably boost CTU's capabilities.
Owen himself had undergone FBI SWAT special training—he knew exactly how strong they were, far beyond what CTU's tactical team could currently match.
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