Seeing Patrice St. Clair's profile, Jack realized that he hadn't heard of Jeffrey Epstein in this world, and the Lolly Island case hadn't even happened yet.
He quickly looked up the relevant information and found that a wealthy American with the same name had indeed died in a plane crash years earlier.
Was he silenced by a former presidential couple? Jack knew he couldn't delve into anything he couldn't understand. In his previous life, aside from a bland documentary, no film or TV series had dared to touch on this sensitive issue involving the European and American upper classes.
In a world so deeply influenced by film and television, it seemed understandable that a similar global scandal hadn't erupted.
Frank hurried out after receiving the investigation results. Cassel, who hadn't witnessed the details of the Albanian mafia's lair, was watching the television reports with clenched teeth.
Despite the seemingly close ties between developed countries in Europe and America, there were also many disagreements, especially when it came to reporting negative news on each other.
For detailed information on American scandals, Reuters, the BBC, and AFP are the best sources. Conversely, the Associated Press is known for its ability to exploit loopholes in European royal news.
If the scandal involves both Europe and the US, then one can only look to TASS for details. As for the rubbish media outlets of a certain Eastern power, which only parrot the narrative, they can basically be ignored.
Watching the plight of the rescued girls on the TV news, if Cassel might have previously thought Jack and his father's methods were too harsh, now he only regretted not having dealt with Mark Ocha himself.
"There's a secret auction tonight," Frank, who had returned quickly, reported.
He looked a little disheveled, and Jack noticed a hint of blood on his sleeves and raw knuckles.
"What did you do?" He was curious about how Frank had gotten this information, but he was also worried about potential trouble down the road.
Jack had done his best to cover up the situation, not letting Brian provoke his former colleague in French intelligence and disposing of Mark Ocha's body.
The second part of "Taken" follows the family behind Mark Ochar seeking revenge against Brian, having learned his identity from a former colleague.
A second part is highly unlikely, given that the world generally continues to develop along a logical path. The problem is that Brian is so perfectly fine, and Frank needs to make sure he doesn't cause any trouble.
Frank flicked his wrist nonchalantly, saying, "I just met up with an old friend for a drink. The local gangs are so rude these days."
Seeing his reluctance to speak, Jack didn't press his questions. Compared to Brian, Frank's identity was much more secretive.
He was active during the late Cold War, when the upheaval in Eastern Europe was like a global earthquake, but it also gave rise to a wave of legendary intelligence operatives comparable to 007.
Frank's two long-term safe houses in Paris alone suggest he must have been active across both Eastern and Western Europe.
"This auction is officially a banquet, starting at 9 p.m. at Mark Ochar's private club," Frank's expression darkened.
Jack checked the time. It was already three in the afternoon, leaving them with very little time to prepare. No wonder the bald man's face darkened.
"How are you going to get in?"
There was no time for invitations or anything like that. Their goal was to rescue people, not to kill their way in and out. Paris was, after all, the capital of a country, so sneaking in disguise was their only option.
"I heard you're a good chef?" Frank smiled at Jack.
"Huh?"
When a hobby becomes a job, the joy disappears.
Jack poured sauce over several portions of foie gras with an expressionless face. He estimated that it was about time, so he found a gap when no one was paying attention and slipped into the utility room. He took off his chef's uniform, put on a suit, and adjusted his tie to look handsome again.
The hall was crowded with guests, gathered in groups of three or four and chatting in low voices. No one noticed that there was an unexpected guest here.
"How can I help you, sir?" Brian, dressed like a waiter with a black bow tie and a white towel on his arm, appeared beside Jack with a tray.
"Thank you." Jack took a sip of champagne from the tray and asked with a smile, "Where is the restroom?"
"This way." Brian made a gesture of invitation.
The two reached a secluded area, and Jack whispered, "Have you spotted Patricia St. Clair?"
Brian nodded, then pointed to a small, unassuming door at the other end of the hall. "There's an elevator in there, probably leading underground. He just took someone down, but there's someone guarding the elevator door."
He stepped on a nearby trash can, dumped all the wine glasses on the tray into it, shoved the tray behind a potted plant, and headed straight for the restroom.
A moment later, Brian reappeared, also dressed in a fine suit. The two walked toward the small door together.
They opened it, and a security guard in a black suit stood in the elevator lobby. He asked respectfully, "How can I help you?"
"We're here to see Mr. St. Clair," Brian said with a smile.
"Please tell me your name," the security guard flipped through a list of names.
"John Wick," Jack gave a false name, seemingly casually closing the small door behind him.
"Um, sorry, your name isn't on the list." The security guard glanced at Jack with some confusion. Just as he was about to turn his gaze to Brian, Jack continued with a smile, "I know."
Before he could finish his words, he suddenly lunged forward and punched the security guard just below the ribs, near the abdomen. The diaphragm between the chest and abdomen was struck hard, and the excruciating pain could instantly render a person unable to breathe, let alone call for help.
As the security guard doubled over in pain, Jack had already swung behind him, one hand grasping his neck in a naked chokehold, the other pressing the elevator button.
With a ding-dong, the elevator door opened. Jack dragged the still-twitching security guard into the elevator. Brian followed closely behind, pressing the button for the basement floor, and the elevator door slowly closed.
Everything happened in a flash. Before the security guard could even try to struggle, Jack snapped his neck with a snap.
The ding-dong sounded again, and the elevator door slowly opened. Brian, holding his silenced Viper, quickly peered out, checking that the hallway was clear. After quickly exiting the elevator, he helped open the adjacent equipment room.
Jack dragged the body into the equipment room and closed the door again, then he looked at the situation on the underground floor. This underground auction was quite authentic, and the auction hall was really placed underground.
Although the elevator just showed the underground floor, judging from the time it took to get here from the first floor, the depth should not be less than 10 meters. Jack suspected that this might be part of the civil air defense fortification.
There were two passages facing the elevator. The one on the left was blocked by an iron door. There was a slight chill and moisture pouring in. Jack silently calculated the location of the building where the club was located in his mind, and estimated that this should lead directly to the banks of the Seine.
There were several steps on the right side of the passage that continued to lead down. The passage was decorated very luxuriously, and the walls were covered with expensive marble tiles. Needless to say, the auction hall should be below.
(End of this chapter)