Exiting the building, Zoey nervously checked the time. It was still a few minutes before 9 p.m., leaving her sixteen minutes until the timed bomb was set to explode. That should be enough time to toss it into the Seine River. But carrying a bomb, no matter how trained a person might be, was nerve-wracking. For Zoey, it was even worse—her palms were sweaty, and her grip on the bag was white-knuckle tight.
Her obvious tension didn't escape Michael Mason, a skilled pickpocket scanning the streets for easy targets. Seeing Zoey clutching her bag so tightly and looking around nervously, he instantly concluded that whatever was in the bag must be valuable.
Tossing his cigarette to the ground, Mason followed her. When Zoey descended a flight of stairs, Mason quickened his pace, deliberately bumping into her shoulder. The collision sent Zoey sprawling to the ground. By the time she stood up, her bag—and the bomb inside it—was gone.
"Oh my God," Zoey muttered in panic, covering her mouth as her thoughts raced. She knew all too well what had happened: a street pickpocket had stolen her bag. But calling for help or causing a scene was out of the question. Her mind went blank, and she sank to the ground, tugging at her hair in despair.
Meanwhile, Mason, with years of experience under his belt, quickly slipped into a quiet alley. He waited there for a few seconds, listening carefully to ensure no one was following him. Once satisfied, he opened the bag.
His anticipation turned to disappointment. Apart from a cell phone and some miscellaneous items, the only thing of note was a stuffed bear.
"Dammit," Mason cursed, rummaging through the bag again to confirm that there wasn't even a single coin. Muttering about his bad luck, he walked out of the alley, intending to toss the bag into a trash can. Throwing it into the trash ensured it wouldn't draw attention compared to leaving it on the ground.
But as he exited the alley, he accidentally bumped into a woman.
"Sorry! So sorry," Jesse apologized repeatedly, looking up at him with an innocent expression.
"What's wrong, darling?" a man's voice called out from not far away. Mason looked up to see a man in a hat walking toward them. The man was accompanied by someone who, judging by his suit and bulky frame, was undoubtedly a bodyguard. Gunnar's intense gaze zeroed in on Mason as he approached.
One glance at Gunnar was enough for Mason to realize he couldn't take this guy in a fight. Clutching the women's bag in his hand, Mason quickly told Jesse it was fine and turned to leave, heading toward Maurice Plaza.
Unbeknownst to him, Jesse was grinning as she held up Zoey's phone, Mason's phone, and his wallet. Hugging William's neck, she giggled, "I win, darling."
Rolling his eyes, William feigned exasperation. "Can't you wait until tomorrow to visit the Seine? What's so special about that boring river anyway?"
"I don't care," Jesse said, clinging to his arm. "You promised. You're taking me to the Seine before we go home."
"Fine, fine, fine," William relented, shaking his head. Taking Zoey's phone from Jesse, he said, "Let's return this phone to that woman first."
"No way. Once it's in my hands, it's mine. Besides, I didn't take it directly from her."
Another eye roll from William made Jesse realize her slip. As a former pickpocket, she knew how it sounded. Awkwardly, she murmured, "Alright, but you have to promise we won't go home too early."
"Deal, deal, deal. You win, you call the shots," William said, giving her a quick kiss. With the two phones and the wallet in hand, he walked over to Gunnar and whispered, "Zoey's phone has a tracking program on it. Dispose of everything else, and be careful not to draw attention."
Gunnar nodded. "Understood." He turned and left to apprehend the panicked Zoey, who was still reeling from the theft.
Meanwhile, Mason had made it to Maurice Plaza. Approaching the garbage bins near the square, he was intercepted by a middle-aged man. The man glanced into Mason's bag and spotted the stuffed bear. Handing over a paper bag, he said, "Cthulhu?"
Mason froze for a second, confused. "You've got the wrong guy."
He tried to walk away, but his attention was caught by a man standing about 15 meters away. The stranger had one hand inside his jacket and was glaring directly at Mason.
That single glance told Mason everything he needed to know. The man's hand was clearly gripping a gun, and the bag he carried was eerily similar to the one Mason had just stolen, complete with a smaller version of the stuffed bear.
It didn't take long for Mason to realize he had unwittingly stumbled into a dangerous situation. The man standing nearby was the real contact for the middle-aged man in front of him, and Mason had blundered into their exchange by pure bad luck.
Unfortunately, before Mason could explain, the bag's bomb detonated with a deafening explosion. The blast sent him and the broker flying several meters, killing them both instantly.
At the edge of the blast radius, Christmas climbed to his feet, feigning anger as he tossed a bag to the ground. He rushed toward the site of the explosion and grabbed some partially burned papers before quickly fleeing the scene.
Meanwhile, about 100 meters away, William held a trembling Jesse in his arms. His voice was calm but tinged with concern as he asked, "Are you hurt?"
Jesse clung to him tightly. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she said, though her voice was shaky. Realizing William had shielded her from the blast, she quickly let go, her hands frantically checking him for injuries as tears welled in her eyes. "Are you okay? You were in front of me!"
"Relax," William reassured her, gently patting her back. "I'm fine too."
He cradled her in his arms as he turned to look toward the blast site, listening as Sunday's voice reported in his ear. "Sir, Michael Mason and the broker have been confirmed dead.
Additionally, the entire sequence of events, including the moments before and after the explosion, was captured by a street camera overlooking the plaza. This includes Christmas retrieving the documents. If you proceed another 23 meters forward, you'll also be caught on camera."
William took a moment to process this before addressing Jesse. "We need to leave. Once the police arrive, it'll be trouble."
As they passed near the explosion site, William shielded Jesse's face with his hand and deliberately glanced around, ensuring the cameras caught him looking casual and uninvolved.
Jesse, still shaken but trusting, leaned into him. Her usual bold and carefree demeanor had softened into something far gentler. In her mind, William's protective presence loomed large, and she clung to that sense of security.
Not long after they left, journalists and police began arriving at the scene. Within hours, news of the explosion at Maurice Plaza spread across Paris and then around the world.
At 11:40 p.m., the Paris Interior Ministry's head and Police Commissioner Victor Gael held an emergency press conference. He announced that the explosion had killed two people and injured more than 20.
A group claiming responsibility for the attack issued a statement, threatening more bombings within the next 36 hours unless the Armistice Day celebrations were canceled.
In his closing remarks, Victor declared firmly to the gathered reporters, "France will not bow to terrorists. The celebrations will proceed as planned, and any attackers will face severe consequences."
Returning to his office, Victor barely had time to sit before his assistant entered with a stack of photos. "Sir, you won't believe what the surveillance cameras at the explosion site captured."
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