After dealing with Marco, William left his body there, knowing that no one would come to this safe house for at least a year or so. He got in his car, drove a dozen blocks to the outskirts of the 13th arrondissement of Paris, got out, and left the car door open.
He was certain that the car would be stolen within minutes. The 13th arrondissement was like Hell's Kitchen, a chaotic and lawless area. Once the car entered the 13th arrondissement, no one would bother looking for it.
In a few days, the car would be repainted and sold by the locals, leaving no trace behind.
Walking two blocks, he found a 24-hour café, went inside, and ordered a latte and sandwich, eating and drinking slowly. After resting for about half an hour and checking his watch, William saw it was almost 5:30. He took out his phone and called Sophie.
"Beep, beep," the phone rang for several seconds before Sophie answered, her voice filled with annoyance. "God, William, do you know what time it is? Can't this wait a few more hours?"
"Sorry, Sophie. I know it's early, but this is urgent," William replied. He knew it was 5 AM in France and not even 4 AM in Scotland, but he had no choice. The sooner he found Ginny, the sooner this would be over.
"Alright, what's the matter? It's not about the Holy Grail again, is it?"
"Don't worry, I'll handle the Holy Grail. You and Langdon stay in Scotland and wait for my news. This time, I need to ask your grandmother something. Can you get her on the phone? It's really urgent."
Hearing it wasn't about the Holy Grail, Sophie relaxed significantly. "Alright, I hope she's awake. Otherwise, I'll get scolded. Her sleep is always restless, and she hates being disturbed. I'll call you back."
About twenty minutes later, Sophie called back, and William heard an elderly voice, "Good morning, child of the Devonshire family. You must have an urgent matter to call me so early. Go ahead, as long as it's within my power."
"Thank you, Mrs. St. Clair. Do you know a man named Patrick St. Clair?" William asked.
"Patrick St. Clair? What do you need him for? Personal business or a vendetta?" Mrs. St. Clair asked urgently, clearly aware of Patrick's dealings.
Hearing her serious tone, William knew she was aware of Patrick, the manager of the underground auction. "Don't worry, ma'am. I have no grudge against Patrick. I need to buy someone from him, a 17-year-old girl."
After a moment of silence, Mrs. St. Clair said, "I'm sorry, William. I would love to order Patrick to deliver the girl to you immediately, but the underground auction is not solely owned by the St. Clair family. It has many shareholders, and I can't unilaterally decide to release her. Also, the rules of the underground auction state that nothing can be taken without a price. Everything in the underworld is business. It has nothing to do with morality, only money."
"I understand. I will pay. I'll wait for Patrick at the Four Seasons Hotel in Paris. Goodbye, Mrs. St. Clair," William said and hung up. He felt a surge of anger at her words that everything was business and only about money.
The kind and friendly impression he had of Mrs. St. Clair when she met Sophie had been shattered. The reality was that no matter how loving and kind she appeared, it was only for her own family. These families, who had endured countless hardships, showed no mercy to outsiders. Their true nature was cold and ruthless. The thought of becoming like Mrs. St. Clair in a few decades sent a shiver down William's spine.
Shaking his head to clear the thought, he called his personal banker at the National Bank to book a presidential suite at the Four Seasons Hotel.
After drinking his coffee for about twenty minutes, he got into the hotel's car sent to pick him up, much to the envy of those around him.
Upon arriving at the hotel, the butler led him to the presidential suite. William instructed the butler to bring any visitors to him immediately, then took a long bath, changed into his pajamas, and fell asleep.
He woke up to the sound of the doorbell in the afternoon, put on his pajamas, and opened the door to find the butler with a middle-aged man and several bodyguards.
The butler said, "Mr. Devonshire, this is Mr. Patrick St. Clair."
William nodded at Patrick. "Come in, Mr. St. Clair," and walked over to sit by the sofa.
Patrick, ignoring William's rudeness, instructed his bodyguards to stay outside and entered the suite. Smiling, he said, "Hello, Mr. Devonshire. I'm sorry to disturb you. Mrs. St. Clair asked me to apologize on her behalf and hopes this incident won't affect your friendship with the St. Clair family."
William, not wanting to talk much with this scumbag, and not believing that the St. Clairs cared about his friendship, interrupted, "Alright, just tell me, how much do I need to pay to take Ginny?"
Seeing William's disdain, Patrick regretted taking the Albanian's goods. Compared to losing the Devonshire family's friendship, the money earned from selling people was a drop in the ocean.
If he had the authority, he would have sent Ginny over immediately, but he was just a manager. "A hundred thousand dollars. As long as the money is paid, Miss Ginny will be with you in half an hour."
"Fine, you can go now. Call this number at the Swiss National Bank branch in Paris, and you'll get your hundred thousand dollars in cash." William wrote down a phone number and handed it to Patrick, then directly asked him to leave.
"Wait, Mr. Devonshire," Patrick said, taking the number. "I know this incident has made you very disappointed in the St. Clair family, but Sophie is unaware of what I do. Please don't let this affect her. She values your friendship very much."
William believed Sophie was innocent because she didn't have the time to get involved. Whether she would take over the family's affairs in the future was uncertain, and William didn't want to think about it now. Nodding perfunctorily at Patrick, he said, "Don't worry, I won't blame Sophie. Satisfied, Patrick?"
Patrick nodded and smiled, "Thank you, Mr. Devonshire."
"Now that you're satisfied, you can leave. You should be grateful it's me here. If it were my friend, you'd be dead."
"Thank you. To make up for my mistake, I've gathered some information over the past few hours that might help you."
"What information?" William asked, surprised.
___________________
Read Ahead
P@treon.com/Mutter