William floored the accelerator, racing the car onto the overpass in hot pursuit of Pete. But Pete was clever; seeing William chasing him in a car, he immediately ran against the traffic. William had no choice but to get out of the car as the overpass was congested with vehicles.
Seeing William getting closer, Pete spotted a large truck approaching below the overpass. He gritted his teeth and jumped down, using the truck to land safely. He then turned around and flipped William the middle finger, only to be immediately struck and sent flying by an oncoming truck.
William, observing everything from the overpass, punched the railing in frustration and cursed, "Damn it!"
"Police, freeze!"
Seeing the police approaching, William glanced around and then leaped, grabbing a streetlight to slide down.
With Pete dead, the lead had gone cold. William had no choice but to find Brian's friend, Claude, hoping to get some clues and help, instead of wandering aimlessly like a headless chicken.
Following Brian's address, William located Claude's home. At a café below Claude's apartment, he ordered a coffee and some bread. He read the newspaper, eating and drinking while waiting for Claude to come down to go to work.
At 9 o'clock, just as Brian had said, Claude came down on time and headed to his car parked on the street.
William threw down the newspaper, put on a mask, sunglasses, and a baseball cap, and quickly walked towards Claude. He followed Claude across the street.
When they reached the middle of the street, William handed Claude a phone. Claude looked at William, then at the phone, which was already on a call, displaying the name Brian Mills. Claude shrugged and said to the phone, "Two retired old men chatting—do we still need to be this cautious? Or are you too scared to come see me yourself?"
"I can't help it; I have some issues. I'm restricted from leaving the USA," Brian said over the phone.
Claude laughed, "The White Palace incident? Looks like my retirement is going better than yours. I can still sit in my office, drink coffee, and read the paper. When something comes up, I can send my subordinates to handle it. You're still out there risking your life."
Brian replied, "Someone with your personality must find office work boring. I don't think you're better off than me. At least I'm a free man, Claude."
"No, I'm definitely better off," Claude paused for a few seconds. "Okay, maybe sitting in an office is a bit dull. But someone like me, retired and alive, should be content with that. So, what do you need? You wouldn't call just to chat."
Brian chuckled, "I was doing pretty well too, working for a good boss, fishing, playing golf every day—until yesterday when my daughter was kidnapped in Paris."
Claude's expression changed immediately. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a serious, grim look.
"My daughter and her sister were targeted at the airport by Albanians. They kidnapped them."
"How do you know it was the Albanians?" Claude asked, puzzled.
"Claude, I may be retired, but I'm not useless," Brian replied, annoyed.
Claude thought for a moment, then said, "I guess you didn't call the police; otherwise, you wouldn't have sent someone to find me."
"Cut the crap, Claude. We both know how many reports Paris police get daily. I only have 96 hours. Nineteen hours have already passed. By the time the police start investigating, Ginny will have been sold," Brian snapped.
"Alright, let me think. First, we need to find the spotter."
"We found him, but he got hit by a truck and died," William said. He had the phone connected to Brian, and he was wearing a Bluetooth earpiece, so he could hear their conversation and they could hear him.
Claude looked at William sternly and said, "Are you looking for someone or committing a crime? Brian, you can't just rampage through Paris like a bull in a china shop."
Brian got angry, "If necessary, I'll tear down the Eiffel Tower to find my daughter. Claude, you know what I used to do. I mean it."
"Do you know who you're threatening, Brian Mills?" Claude replied firmly.
"I thought I was talking to my friend, Claude. Are we friends?" Brian countered.
Claude was silent for a few seconds, then sighed, "Alright, Brian, we're friends. But think about my position. I work for the French government now." He handed William a business card.
William glanced at it and said, "Deputy Director of Homeland Security. Brian, your friend is doing well, but that doesn't concern us. We just need the Albanians."
Brian followed up, "Yes, we just need the Albanians."
Claude, realizing he had no choice, and not wanting Brian to cause more trouble without direction, relented. "These people started arriving from Eastern Europe six or seven years ago. Initially, there were about 15 to 20 of them, but now there are hundreds in Paris alone. Across Europe, there are thousands—no one knows the exact number. They're very dangerous, many are former soldiers or mercenaries, and most people don't dare to mess with them."
William smiled and nodded, "I know, I've dealt with them before. Tell me how to find them, or I'll use my own methods," he said, handing Claude a note. "Look at this."
Claude took the note, which read: $1 million, Swiss bank withdrawal, give me special operational authority in France.
Claude thought for half a minute, then said to the phone, "Brian, is this your decision? You know what kind of risk this involves."
Brian replied, "Either follow the note, or I'll use the authority of the US intelligence agency. Given the current situation, any excuse could link this to the White Palace incident. If something goes wrong, you can claim ignorance."
Claude took a few minutes to consider. "How can I claim ignorance? If something goes wrong, all the trouble falls on me. Double the amount, and I'll secure operational authority within two hours after seeing your commitment."
"No problem," William said, smiling. Getting legal operational authority with money was the best outcome for him.
___________________
Read Ahead
P@treon.com/Mutter