In the snow-covered forest, one man was running desperately ahead, several hunting dogs tightly pursuing him from behind.
The distance between Owen and the swimming pool, as well as between the dogs and Owen, was rapidly closing.
Five meters, four meters, three meters, two meters...
Owen didn't slow down in the slightest. At the edge of the pool, he leapt, crashing into the floating ice with his large bag, leaving behind only a dark hole in the surface. The hunting dogs that had been chasing him barely managed to stop in time, but two of them, too close to brake, tumbled into the water after him, their pitiful whines echoing as the icy lake water froze their bodies.
On the icy surface of the pool, the hole Owen had smashed through gradually calmed, making it seem as if nothing had happened, except for the barking dogs and the noisy shouting along the shore that told otherwise.
Underwater, Owen paddled with all his strength, diving a few meters deeper before placing a thermometer-like device into his mouth. It was the CIA's latest tech, a tiny device capable of providing nearly ten minutes of oxygen, and with special breathing techniques, it allowed someone to stay submerged for twenty minutes.
Immediately afterward, Owen unzipped the large bag he had been carrying, pulling out a small underwater propulsion device. He had used something similar during his time with the SEALs, but this CIA version was more compact.
Above the water, guards halted at the pool's edge. Gunfire rattled, and bullets pierced the water, creating crisscrossing trails, but due to water resistance, the bullets lost their momentum after about a meter and drifted harmlessly downward.
Owen dared not linger. He activated the propulsion device, its propeller whirring louder and faster, generating a water current that pulled him swiftly into the depths.
...
On a mountain road, a van was speeding desperately through the snow, though every few dozen meters the van would skid on the snowy surface, forcing the driver to constantly wrestle the steering wheel to maintain balance, slamming the brakes from time to time.
"Ah! Ugh, my nose—damn it, Simon, do you even know how to drive?"
Paso, with a lollipop in his mouth, slammed into the van's wall again, cursing as his lollipop dropped to the floor.
"Oh, sorry, buddy. I'm a born-and-raised Los Angeles boy—this is my first time driving in snow... Oh, damn it."
As Simon spoke, he got distracted, nearly losing control of the van and frantically spinning the wheel to correct it. Even then, he couldn't help but joke, "Looks like I really need to sign up for a snow driving course when we get back..."
...
Meanwhile, dressed in a tuxedo, Harry was sprinting across the snow, leaving a long trail of footprints behind him. In pursuit were guards on sleds. One side was relying on legs, the other on sleds—the distance between them was closing fast.
Gunshots rang out behind him, bullets thudding into nearby trees. Harry had to occasionally turn and shoot back, buying himself precious seconds.
Feeling someone closing in, Harry suddenly stopped and, using a tree as cover, fired off a few quick shots, dropping two pursuing guards. He immediately resumed running.
Sensing a dark shape flying toward him from the left, Harry leaned backward to dodge the lunging attack of a vicious dog, then grabbed its head with his left hand and slammed it into a tree trunk. A dull thud followed by the dog's anguished whimpers echoed out.
The repeated stops to fend off enemies had drastically slowed Harry's speed, allowing more guards to catch up.
Harry ran wildly across the snowy ground. Again sensing danger nearby, he dove forward, landing and immediately rolling onto his back, sliding downhill while firing his gun. His accurate shots blew up a pursuing snowmobile in a fiery explosion.
The flames temporarily blocked the guards' pursuit. After finishing, Harry rolled backward and sprang to his feet, reloading a fresh magazine into his pistol as he ran.
Ahead, not far away, was the outermost wall—once he crossed it, he'd be out of the villa's grounds. Bullets zipped around him, striking the snow with "puff puff" sounds, but Harry didn't care. He leapt up, planted one hand on the wall, and flipped over in the midst of the gunfire.
Just as he cleared the wall, a van came skidding around the bend, practically sliding up to him. Simon yanked the emergency brake, causing the van to drift sideways right in front of Harry. Harry turned, shot and killed two pursuing guards, then jumped into the passenger seat.
"Where's Owen?"
"He's at Evac Point One. Hold tight, we're heading there now!"
Simon shouted as the van's front tires spun furiously, struggling for traction before finally catching, spitting out black smoke from the exhaust as they sped toward the next location.
When they reached him, Owen was nearly frozen stiff. The underwater propulsion device only helped him move fast; it didn't offer any insulation. He had spent a long time swimming through icy water in just a suit and then endured the freezing temperatures onshore. By the time Harry hauled him into the van, Owen could barely speak. Fortunately, there were spare clothes and a heater in the vehicle, and Owen slowly came back to life.
Forty minutes later, the small van roared into a small airfield. They abandoned the vehicle right on the tarmac—local CIA operatives would take care of it.
"We're going home~~~"
Inside the plane, Simon shouted excitedly as the aircraft taxied and then soared into the night sky, heading toward Los Angeles.
...
Los Angeles, CIA Headquarters.
Early the next morning, Tony, Owen, CIA Director Mueller, and the members of Team Seven were all gathered in a conference room.
No one spoke. Everyone watched the TV screen on the wall, where President Palmer was delivering a televised speech.
"I regret that America has suffered so much recently... The American people are enduring unprecedented threats... But I want to say: the threat has never truly been far away—there are those who bear the burden for us in silence...
Here, as President of the United States, I solemnly warn those extremist groups... No form of terrorism will ever extinguish our resolve to fight back. All that awaits you is American retaliation...
I hereby announce on behalf of the White House: in the next phase of counter-terrorism efforts, the CIA, CTU, NSA, and other national security agencies will engage in comprehensive, in-depth cooperation, sharing intelligence, carrying out precise strikes against terrorists, and comprehensively enhancing America's counter-terrorism capabilities..."
As the President's speech ended, the screen switched back to the news anchor, who continued, "President Palmer, at this morning's White House press conference, once again affirmed the United States' unwavering stance against terrorism..."
Director Mueller, sitting at the head of the table, didn't bother listening to the anchor's rambling. He switched off the TV.
Owen and Tony exchanged a glance—no wonder CTU and CIA had cooperated on this operation. The President had already given his endorsement.
Comprehensive, in-depth cooperation wasn't just lip service; so far, the CIA and CTU had already begun tentative collaboration and initial intelligence sharing.
------------------
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