After taking down the helicopter, Owen and Swagger left the area without delay. They not only had to get out of there—they had to get out of Salt Lake City entirely.
It wasn't until they were long gone that Jenny emerged from behind a large boulder. She had never actually run off. In fact, she couldn't have.
Who could possibly run uphill under threat from a sniper? Instead, she had chosen to hide behind the same rock she had used earlier when she tried to snipe Swagger.
Jenny swore to herself she'd never again mess around in someone else's domain. She'd actually tried to go up against a top-tier sniper. What was she thinking? That feeling of being powerless—of your life hanging on the trigger of someone else's gun—was something she hadn't experienced in a long time.
The signal in her earpiece was degrading, a clear sign that Owen and Swagger were moving beyond the range of her surveillance device. Only then did she dare come out. Otherwise, she still feared they might bomb her position.
Owen was behind the wheel again, as usual, but Swagger handed him a small piece of paper. Owen unfolded it.
On it were the words: "Your phone was being tapped by the female assassin."
Owen turned to Swagger, who gave him a firm nod. After the incident, Swagger had switched to a new phone, and since neither of them had interacted with anyone else directly, it was unlikely that any bugging devices had been planted on them physically.
Plus, they had been using phones—not walkie-talkies—for their communications. But Jenny had reacted to their conversations in real-time. The only explanation was phone surveillance.
Owen pulled over in a remote area, left his phone in the car, and used Swagger's device to make a call.
He briefly explained the situation to Becky, who said she would send him a program to install. A few moments later, Owen received a text containing an image. When he tapped the image, the software installed itself silently.
At an NSA office, Becky worked quickly on her end. It didn't take long for her to find the culprit.
Owen's phone had indeed been compromised with spyware. The program activated the phone's microphone, turning it into a listening device. Everything it picked up was sent in real time to Jenny's phone.
Using the PIN code and communication protocols, Becky easily traced Jenny's address and uncovered her identity.
She sent the file to Owen. Looking over it, Owen read aloud:
"Jenny Fox. New York native. Twenty-two years old. Works at a tech company specializing in IT server maintenance. Position: IT engineer. Huh... turns out she actually told me her real name."
Two kilometers away, a Ford Focus screeched to a stop at the side of the road. Jenny adjusted her earpiece, stunned. She couldn't believe Owen had managed to find her records—even if it was just her cover identity. How had he done it?
Two minutes later, Owen's phone rang. Seeing the number, he smirked.
"Miss Fox. Didn't expect you to call."
"How did you find me?" Jenny's voice was frosty.
"I had a friend look into my phone. We found the spyware. Then we traced the source. I have to say, I'm surprised. An IT prodigy, huh? You've shattered all my stereotypes about programmers. Especially female ones…"
"Cut the crap. What do you want?"
"Nothing, really. I was just curious how you managed to get the spyware onto my phone. Oh... I get it now. That nude photo... You sent that, didn't you?"
Owen facepalmed. A few days ago, he'd received a picture message—thumbnail showed a half-revealed woman. Male curiosity got the better of him. He clicked. The photo did not disappoint. He'd indulged in a little moment of fantasy, never realizing it was a trojan horse.
He felt embarrassed. For a guy who used to be a programmer in his past life, falling for such a cliché trick? Damn hormones.
Swagger gave him a look of pure contempt. Owen straightened up and declared righteously, "Anyway, Miss Fox, we're not really enemies, are we? In fact, we kind of go back a bit.
How about we just pretend today never happened? I won't investigate you any further, and you stop chasing Swagger. He's already looked at you closely today—you're not his type."
"Oh? So I'm yours?"
Jenny dropped the question out of nowhere.
Owen was momentarily stunned, then awkwardly replied, "Uh… not exactly. But you're… beautiful."
"Then why did you say earlier I 'wasn't your woman yet'?"
"Eavesdropping is seriously unethical, you know…"
Owen was speechless. So all those jokes, all that banter—she'd heard everything. He winced. Some of it hadn't exactly been respectful either.
Awkward. Really awkward.
Luckily, Jenny didn't linger on the topic. "I agree to your proposal. But I can only promise I won't take this contract. If other killers pick it up, that's not on me."
"No problem. As long as you're out, I'm fine with it."
"Then… deal?"
"Deal."
Just as Owen hung up and exhaled in relief, his phone rang again.
He picked up—and heard Becky's furious voice: "You scumbag! How dare you mess around with other women behind Monica's back?!"
Owen felt like the universe had turned against him. What the hell was happening?
He wanted to explain, but Becky had already hung up, not giving him the chance.
"This is impossible… She's eavesdropping my calls now too? This girl's a walking security risk…"
…
The trip to Salt Lake City had been a trap—but it hadn't been for nothing. Owen believed what Sokolov said: the colonel was just a black-glove operative for some larger organization. The real puppet masters were likely the big corporations behind the scenes.
He wanted to ask Becky to investigate, but she was busy being mad for her bestie's sake and refused to answer his calls. So he turned to Chloe instead, hoping it wouldn't cause trouble for CTU.
But after several unanswered calls to her cell, he reluctantly dialed her office line—only to have Nina pick up.
"Nina, it's Owen. Is Chloe in?"
"I'm sorry. You can't speak to her at the moment."
Owen hated Nina's robotic, bureaucratic tone.
"Why not?"
"Because Deputy Director Rogers from the Department of Defense has initiated an investigation. Chloe is currently being questioned."
"What kind of investigation?"
"There's been a sudden deposit of $300,000 into her bank account. She couldn't explain the source. Director Rogers suspects she's been compromised."
"What?!"
Owen didn't believe it for a second. Chloe? Bought off? No way. Sure, CTU was famous for its revolving door of moles—but never Chloe.
"Did you have business with her?" Nina asked.
"No, just… personal stuff. I'll call her another time. Oh—by the way, is Jack around?"
"He's not. He's currently on a classified mission. His contact information is restricted. If you have a message, I can pass it along."
"Hmm, never mind. Just ask him to call me when he gets a chance. It's important."
Owen hesitated, but decided against saying more. The information from Sokolov's cabin was too explosive—the fewer people who knew, the better.
"Alright," Nina replied.
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