That night, Owen and the Omega main team members arrived in Paris aboard the same commercial flight, entering under different identities. Paris wasn't international waters; they couldn't operate like they did during the Yemen hostage rescue. This time, they flew in as tourists, using civilian visas—meaning weapons weren't even a consideration during entry.
Throughout the journey, each of them acted as if they didn't know one another, reuniting only once they had cleared customs at Charles de Gaulle Airport. Outside the terminal, they grouped up, hailed two separate cars, and headed straight for CTU's designated safehouse.
In CTU's early days, its operations were strictly domestic—there had been no international supply points. But that had changed. Now tasked with foreign operations, Jack Bauer had been working to establish safehouses for CTU abroad. It was a long process, but some locations, like Paris—an intelligence hub—already had operational nodes.
Everything they needed in Paris—vehicles, weapons—would be supplied at the safehouse. It was safer, and much more convenient.
They arrived at a modest house in the old district. Owen checked the address on his phone. The house number matched. He approached the keypad by the door, entered the code, and the electronic lock clicked open. The group filed inside. Ghost, bringing up the rear, glanced over his shoulder to scan the area before shutting the door.
The house looked entirely ordinary—old-fashioned decor, outdated appliances. But it was clean, suggesting someone came by to tidy it from time to time. No one spoke at first. Everyone silently began checking every corner of the house. Eventually, they regrouped in the living room. No sign of intrusion—safe.
Owen walked to the coffee table and picked up the TV remote. He input a second code. The wall where the television was mounted suddenly split open, revealing a hidden arsenal behind it.
Lined up like a miniature gun store, the wall displayed a wide variety of firearms, long and short. Owen glanced around: standard sidearms and rifles—Glock series, SIG Sauer series. Assault rifles included the HK416, M4A1, SCAR-L, G36, MK18. There were also sniper rifles like the M82A1 and TAC-50. Grenades, flashbangs, body armor—plentiful.
"Pick your weapons," Owen ordered with a nod.
The team moved in and started selecting gear. For a mission like this, sidearms, rifles, ample ammo, and protective gear were essential.
Owen picked an HK416. He wasn't too picky with firearms, but this one just felt right. He tested the weight, held it up in a firing stance, and pulled the charging handle. All the HK416s in the stash were modified with rail systems, in varying lengths for different tactical uses.
He chose the 9-inch variant—ideal. Short enough to use in close quarters, but long enough for mid-range accuracy. Whether it functioned as an assault rifle or a DMR would depend on how he wielded it.
For his sidearm, he went with the familiar SIG P226. Nothing fancy, just a tried-and-true workhorse.
Once Owen had finished, the others had mostly wrapped up their selections as well. He then inspected the garage. They'd already discovered the two Mercedes SUVs during their initial sweep. Both were fueled up and in good condition.
"Hey, boss—when this is over, can we spend a couple days touring Paris?" Fred asked hopefully, clearly itching for an adventure. But Owen's side-eye glare shut that down fast.
Fred immediately backpedaled. "Ha, kidding! Just joking, you know…"
Owen didn't respond. After spending more time with Fred, he'd noticed the guy was solid on missions—but in regular conversation, he often came off unreliable. Not because he was unreliable, but because of the way he presented himself.
By contrast, Baryev had a much steadier presence. The oldest in the group, he carried himself with a calm, measured aura.
Once everyone was geared up, Owen snapped his fingers. "Just sidearms. We're heading out to scout the area."
They holstered their handguns—some tucked them in waistbands, others used underarm rigs. The six of them took the two vehicles and rolled out.
Owen had been to Paris once before, but that didn't mean he knew his way around. And while Becky and satellite support could provide guidance in a pinch, there was no substitute for physically mapping out the terrain.
Two hours later, both vehicles returned to the garage. They'd done a basic reconnaissance of the major roads near the safehouse.
That evening, Owen ventured out alone to pick up food. His French was decent now—enough to handle routine exchanges. The others didn't speak it well enough to do the same.
Since Becky's last communication with the seller the day before, there had been radio silence. It was starting to feel like they'd been ghosted.
But then, at 1:00 a.m., just as everyone was getting ready for bed, Owen's phone rang.
The whole team froze, staring at the device.
Unknown number. Owen answered.
A hoarse voice crackled through the line. "One hour from now. Bring the money. Meet at the east entrance of the Brandt Tunnel. Don't be late."
The entire Omega team sprang into action like startled rabbits. Everyone raced to the garage. Their equipment had already been preloaded into the cars. They'd been waiting all day for this call—and now it was go time.
"You all heard that?" Owen asked as he jumped into the driver's seat.
"Loud and clear. Repositioning the satellite feed now…" Becky's voice came through his earpiece, tired but focused.
"Damn it…" she muttered after a pause.
"What's wrong?" Owen asked sharply.
"The satellite feed was just commandeered by the military…"
Her voice carried helpless frustration. Owen didn't immediately understand. "Can't you override it?"
"No. It's an intelligence satellite—the military has top-level priority. Nothing we do can supersede that."
Owen immediately understood. His usually all-seeing intel team wouldn't be able to assist this time. They'd be flying blind.
"Forget the satellite. Just pull up every piece of intel you can on the destination. As detailed as possible."
"Got it."
Becky came back quickly. "The tunnel is in the old district. It's an old underground passage—cars and people can pass through. The area's got multiple exits and entrances. The seller picked well."
Owen kept the line open as he drove, hands working quickly while his mind processed the risk. He'd studied the maps earlier in the day, and though he hadn't visited the area, he had a general sense of where it was.
Owen, Baryev, Ghost, and Heartbeat were in the lead vehicle. Swagg and Fred followed in the second. During the exchange, the second team would be positioned in the shadows—providing overwatch and remote support.
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