Everything happened so quickly. Jack, who had moved to the west side of the White House, had barely finished changing his gear.
The Mammoth, a heavy-duty pickup truck, had ample room in the back, and with Kate by his side, he didn't have to worry about thieves, so he always kept a full load of gear in the car. He strapped
on his Noveske N4 and MDX508 assault rifles of the same caliber, with their bulletproof plates fixed. By the time Jack grabbed his magazines and his favorite stun grenades, the terrorist formation that had rushed onto the oval lawn in front of the White House had already dispersed.
The enemy sniper, Old Six, had already finished suppressing the officers outside. Jack didn't hesitate, aiming his rifle through the fence in one smooth motion. The next second, he pulled the trigger, instantly slaying the long-haired, delicate-looking female terrorist standing behind the flower bed with her back to him.
This sudden shot immediately drew a counterattack. Three of the five-man team advancing in a long snake formation simultaneously turned their guns and fired bursts of fire at Jack, instantly creating a crushing force.
Bullets clanged against the armored steel of the Mammoth, leaving only a few scattered sparks from both submachine gun and assault rifle rounds.
In theory, the terrain surrounding the White House was quite defensible and difficult to attack.
The building itself was relatively low, with the administrative buildings on the east and west sides only fifty or sixty meters apart. The rooftops provided perfect coverage of the two lawns, 60 meters wide and 200 meters wide, respectively, to the north and south.
Beyond the fountain and a few scattered trees, these lawns were dotted with low shrubbery, offering a nearly unobstructed view.
Unfortunately, the snipers atop the White House, the East Wing Office, and the famed Oval Office to the west, as well as the Secret Service agents on guard in the two administrative buildings just fifty or sixty meters away, were all killed by the previous round of gunship fire.
The remaining defenders, especially those guarding the motorcade, had suffered heavy casualties from the sudden attack by the Korean President's security team. Most of these individuals belonged to the Secret Service's elite "CAT" assault team. Unlike
the black-suited officers guarding the President, the "CAT" team routinely traveled in full gear, armed with SR-16 assault rifles and positioned in black Saab tanks at the end of the motorcade.
The loss of these elite personnel meant that while the defending Secret Service agents appeared to slightly outnumber the attacking terrorists, the disparity in equipment was stark.
Most of the black-suited agents wore only soft bulletproof vests, and some, unable to retrieve their weapons in time, were forced to use their service rifles.
Meanwhile, the terrorists attacking simultaneously from the lawns to the north and south wore bulletproof vests with inserts beneath their seemingly bulky winter uniforms. Their weapons were either submachine guns or short-barreled assault rifles with folding stocks.
This situation is understandable, as the D.C. garrison, responsible for D.C. security, is stationed at Andrews Air Force Base, less than 30 kilometers away.
According to standard contingency plans, in the event of an emergency, the garrison could reach the White House in 15 minutes at most.
From the moment the gunship appeared over D.C. to the moment the F-16 fighter jet launched a beyond-visual-range attack and shot it down, it took less than seven minutes.
At the eighth minute, terrorists disguised as tourists launched a ground attack. In other words, the Secret Service agents only needed to hold out for less than seven minutes before the garrison arrived to rescue them.
All Secret Service agents understood this, and even though they were outgunned, even if some had only a Glock rifle, they remained resolute and fought back from various shelters, such as window sills.
"Kate, hide behind the administration building. I need you to maintain communications and locate Zoe,"
Jack said, leaving the Mammoth's protective perimeter and sprinting towards the three-meter-high metal fence on the west side of the White House. With a single pull-up, he easily surmounted it.
After landing, he rushed forward more than ten meters and stopped. He raised his hand and fired a long burst of shots, knocking down all three people in the team who had just emptied their magazines towards him.
The group had previously numbered five, the first two already killed by headshots from Secret Service agents who had taken cover at the foot of the south gate's steps.
Having taken out three at once, Jack unleashed three stun grenades in quick succession.
While stun grenades are generally ineffective in open areas, with the bright light and loud noise significantly diminishing their impact, the advantage lies in the element of surprise.
Taking advantage of the enemy's moment of distraction, Jack ducked down and sprinted from the side of the building toward the base of the Roman column in front. There, due to the steps, two agents had taken cover behind them.
"FBI! We're on them!"
Jack's arrival preceded his arrival, and with the three stun grenades already in place, the two agents, already locked in a tense exchange of fire, were alerted to the arrival of reinforcements.
Though slightly surprised to see a man wearing an FBI bulletproof vest, they didn't overreact.
With a sliding tackle, Jack rolled onto the ground, scooping up a fallen agent and, bending over, carrying him down the steps.
"Tim, are you okay?" The two agents had been trying to cover each other as they advanced, hoping to rescue their injured colleague.
Seeing Jack help, any remaining doubts vanished.
Unfortunately, this was a rare instance of Jack's rescue failing; the fallen agent's wound was in the carotid artery.
"Please, don't do this, Tim, hold on," the younger, black agent cried out, choking back tears as he tried to cover the wound, but to no avail.
Tim, without a single final word, died.
"Ah!" the young black agent screamed, rising and emptying the remaining magazine of his Glock 17. But he immediately drew concentrated fire, and in the chaos, a bullet from nowhere blew him straight into the head.
His body fell heavily before Jack, his eyes still glaring upward.
"What's the situation inside? Can we hold the north?" Jack, fearing the other agent would impulsively rise and attempt suicide, quickly grabbed him.
"I don't know! It's chaos right now." The agent was a burly, middle-aged white man, holding a blood-stained SR-16 assault rifle.
"Ask how long it will take for the reinforcements to arrive!" Jack pointed at the man's left ear, which was covered in headphones.
"They said we should hold on for another five minutes," the white agent shouted back.
In fact, the reinforcements were not just Jack who had climbed over the wall. Several Metropolitan Police Department police cars were driving down Pennsylvania Avenue with sirens blaring, but they soon encountered something even more troublesome.
(End of this chapter)