"Mr. Clegg, after investigating, it seems that the nearby residents rarely see the owner of the house. However, some have seen a woman with two children,"
Hank Clegg's gaze flickered imperceptibly.
A woman...
Could it be you, Victoria Talkington?
"Everyone, stand by." He stood up and began walking towards the house.
"Hold on, Mr. Clegg."
Seeing Hank Clegg pause, the Parisian commissioner hesitated: "You're going in alone?"
Although Hank Clegg was notoriously brave, the opponent was an international S-Class criminal. It might be reckless to go in single-handedly.
Hank Clegg swept over with a frigid gaze: "Stand by."
He never liked repeating his orders, but these Parisian police officers weren't his long-term colleagues.
It was necessary to afford them appropriate respect.
However, such respect was still terrifying.
The Parisian officers, upon facing his imposing gaze, were suddenly silenced and barely dared to breathe.
Hank Clegg's presence was just too overwhelming.
With just a look or a word, he would easily crush others' spirits.
However, when he stepped into the garden, he heard the sound of a helicopter propeller overhead.
Hank Clegg's brow furrowed, he turned around, his face colder: "Did I order a helicopter deployment?"
The commissioner was confused: "No, sir, without your orders, we wouldn't have dared to deploy."
Hank Clegg looked up again.
This time, he saw a large news logo clearly on the body of the helicopter.
It was a helicopter from a news media group.
Hank Clegg's face darkened, barely concealing his anger: "Who leaked the news and informed the reporters?"
The Parisian police looked at each other, uncertain. Who told the reporters?
They didn't even know why they were here until they arrived. Who would inform the reporters?
"Boss," right then, his closest infiltration team in Paris had arrived.
A young female subordinate came forward and saluted him.
"Things have gone south. All the major television stations in Paris are covering this news. They're saying S-Class criminal Lucas Douglas has hijacked a family in the countryside and wants to negotiate with the police."
She handed over a small screen.
On the screen, Douglas was wearing a Halloween devil mask, holding a sharp knife, and menacingly threatening the woman in his arms: "Scream for help!"
The woman's large black eyes and the dark mask on her face blended together, making it impossible to discern her face, let alone whether she was terrified.
But her cry for help was very authentic: "Help!"
Hank Clegg's ears involuntarily twitched.
Although it was in French, the voice was quite similar to the little woman from seven years ago.
In the villa, Michael switched off the live video and gave Victoria a thumbs up: "Mommy, you played your part very well."
They hadn't expected the Parisian television station to respond so promptly.
As soon as they received the tip-off, they sent a helicopter.
The TV anchor was anxiously reporting: "What we just saw was a video sent by the criminal. We hear that Lucas Douglas is a cruel criminal who does not even spare the weak and elderly. Hank Clegg, the famous captain of Interpol, has also arrived at the scene. Captain Clegg has always claimed to never bow down to any evil forces. However, facing an unarmed captive woman, will he unexpectedly yield? Our reporter is trying to interview him now. Let's connect with the front... hello…"
Hank Clegg's face was darker than the night.
These relentless paparazzi, and the media who would stop at nothing for ratings!
What was more, who leaked the information, calling them over at the most critical moment?
Could it be that Lucas Douglas knew he was coming and informed the media himself, creating this dilemma on purpose?
"Boss," the female subordinate reported with difficulty, "According to the latest information, most of the public is urging the police to yield for the hostages' lives. They all believe that even though they don't know much about the woman, those two children are so adorable. The TV station's hotline is overloaded…"
"Children?" Hank Clegg's heart skipped a beat.
Yes, according to the investigation, the twin siblings, Mateo and Benjamin Talkington, were living here.
Hank Clegg took the screen, watching the new round of hostage videos.
In it, a pair of beautiful kids, pitifully tied together, cried in a voice that could melt anyone's heart: "Uncle, auntie, please save us..."
A storm brewed in Hank Clegg's eyes.
Lucas Douglas…
Whether he staged this drama with the woman and children in the video didn't matter anymore.
What mattered was that the woman in there was likely Victoria Talkington, whom Hank Clegg had been searching for seven years.
And those children were likely his own flesh and blood.
Lucas Douglas was his greatest enemy, and this enemy had been living with his woman and children for seven years, and was now using them as bargaining chips to save himself.
He deserved to die!
"Everyone, stand by." As he uttered these words, he felt as if his teeth were going to crack. This was the third time giving the same command today, and the angriest moment of his life.
His anger was almost making him lose his mind.
So he strode towards the house after finishing his sentence.
Upstairs.
Michael was browsing the news stations.
"People are pressuring the police and the government. We're in a good position." Michael informed Lucas Douglas and his sister while affectionately kissing Victoria's back of the hand. "Mommy did a great job."
"What's the next step?" asked Benjamin.
Michael thought for a moment: "The police will definitely not let Douglas go. We can stall them to buy time for Douglas to escape."
"What if the police are targeting you?" Douglas interrupted Michael.
"Then it's even easier," said Benjamin. "Because there is a big stir, let's see if the public will believe them or us."
To convince everyone in France, no, in the whole world that these adorable twins were the art thieves of the past two years, they would have to gouge out everyone's eyes.
The term "genius" only exists in legends.
Ordinary people cannot even come close to touching the level of genius of Benjamin and Michael in their lifetimes, so they couldn't imagine how farther from the norm the world of geniuses could be.
"But there is one problem," Douglas frowned slightly: "If it were just ordinary police or Interpol, there might be nothing to fear. However, there is this person, Hank Clegg..."