William floored the accelerator, driving the car quickly onto the elevated highway in pursuit. However, Peter was quite clever. Seeing William chasing him in the car, Peter immediately ran into the oncoming lane. When William reached the elevated highway, the taxi was blocked by other cars on the overpass, forcing him to get out and continue the chase on foot.
Seeing William closing in, Peter spotted a large truck approaching beneath the overpass. Gritting his teeth, he flipped and jumped off the overpass, using the truck to safely land below. He then turned and gave William the middle finger, but before he could even enjoy it for a second, he was hit by an oncoming truck and sent flying.
William watched all of this from the overpass, punched the guardrail, and cursed, "Damn it!"
"Police! Stop!"
Seeing the police arrive, William looked around, then leaped, grabbing a street light on the side of the overpass and sliding down.
Peter was dead, and the lead was gone. William now had no choice but to find Bryan's friend, Claude, hoping to find some clues and help from him, instead of searching aimlessly like a headless chicken.
Following the address Bryan gave him, he found Bryan's friend Claude's house. He ordered a coffee and bread at the cafe below Claude's house, reading the newspaper, eating bread, and drinking coffee while waiting for Claude to come downstairs for work.
At 9 o'clock, Claude came downstairs precisely as Bryan had described, and walked towards his car parked on the street nearby.
Seeing this, William threw down the newspaper, put on a mask, sunglasses, and a baseball cap, and quickly walked towards Claude. He walked behind Claude, following him across the street.
The two stopped in the middle of the road. William handed Claude his phone. Claude looked at William, seeing that William had only given him a phone, and his tense heart temporarily relaxed. He was also a former special agent; although he had transitioned to an administrative role, he still maintained necessary vigilance. Moreover, William hadn't made any attempt to conceal himself when he followed him; Claude had noticed him when William got up.
He took the phone, saw that it showed an active call, and the name was Bryan Mills. Claude shrugged at the phone and said, "Do we two retired old guys still need to talk like we used to? Or have you become timid and don't dare to come find me yourself?"
"No choice, I've run into some trouble. I'm restricted from leaving the United States," Bryan said on the phone.
Claude laughed heartily: "The White House incident? Looks like my retirement is better than yours. I can still sit in the office, drink coffee, read the newspaper, and even order my subordinates to do things. You just have to keep fighting."
Bryan said, "Isn't it boring for someone with your personality to work in an office? I don't think you're living better than me. At least I'm a free man, Claude."
"No, I'm definitely living better than you," I said, pausing for a few seconds. "Alright, sitting in an office is a bit boring, but for people like us to still be alive and working in an office after retirement, we should be content. So, tell me, what do you need me for? You're not just calling to chat, are you?"
Bryan said with a smile, "Originally, I was doing very well, found a good boss, went fishing and played ball every day, until yesterday when my daughter was kidnapped in Paris."
Claude's eyes changed upon hearing this. The smile on his lips vanished, his expression grew somber, and his face became serious.
"My daughter and her sister were targeted at the airport. Albanians kidnapped them."
"How do you know it was Albanians?" Claude asked suspiciously.
"Claude, I'm just retired, not useless," Bryan said, annoyed.
Claude thought for a moment and then said, "I imagine you won't call the police, otherwise you wouldn't have sent someone to find me."
"Stop with the nonsense, Claude. We both know how many emergency calls Paris receives every day. I only have 96 hours, and 19 hours have already passed. By the time the police start investigating, Ginny will have already been sold," Bryan cursed.
"Alright, let me think. First, we need to find the person who was tailing them."
"Found him, but the guy was hit by a car and died," William said. The phone in his hand was also connected to Bryan, and he had a Bluetooth earpiece on, so William could hear their conversation, and they could hear what William said.
Claude looked at William seriously, then said, "Are you two looking for someone or committing a crime? Bryan, you can't just charge around Paris like a wild bull."
Bryan immediately grew angry upon hearing this: "If necessary, I'll dismantle the Eiffel Tower just to find my daughter, Claude. You know what I used to do. I mean what I say."
"Do you know who you're threatening, Bryan Mills?" Claude said, his voice firm.
"I thought I was talking to my friend, Claude. Are we friends?" Bryan retorted.
Claude was silent for a few seconds, then sighed and said, "Alright, Bryan, we are friends, but you have to think about me. I'm working for France now." After saying that, he handed William a business card.
William took it, glanced at it, and said, "Deputy Director of Domestic Security. Bryan, your friend is doing well now, but that has nothing to do with us. I only want the Albanians."
Bryan followed up, "Yes, we only want the Albanians."
Claude was forced into a corner. Bryan, after all, was his old friend, and letting these guys run amok without a target could lead to who knows what kind of trouble.
Claude looked at William and said seriously, "These people smuggled themselves over from Eastern Europe six or seven years ago. At first, there were only about 15 to 20 of them, but now there are hundreds in Paris alone, and thousands across the entire European continent. No one knows the exact number. These people are very dangerous; many have fought in wars and served as mercenaries. Many people don't dare to provoke them."
William smiled and nodded, "I know. I've dealt with these people before. Tell me, how can I find them? Otherwise, I'll find them my own way." With that, William handed Claude a note. "Look at this."
Claude took the note and saw that it read: "1 million US dollars, Swiss bank deposit and withdrawal, and special operational authority in France."
Claude thought for half a minute and then spoke into his phone, "Brian, is this your decision? You know the risks involved if I do that."
Brian said, "Either do as the note says, or I'll use the American military intelligence's operational authority myself. What kind of time is this? Any random excuse can be linked to the White House case. If something goes wrong, you can just pretend you don't know."
This time, Claude thought for several minutes. "How can I pretend I don't know? If something happens, all the trouble will fall on me. Double it. I'll get the operational authority sorted within two hours after I see your commitment."
"No problem," William said with a smile. For William, being able to obtain legal operational authority with money was the best outcome.
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