If Hollywood movies want to show a tough guy with a soft side, besides pairing the protagonist with a sexy lady with flaming red lips, they can also give him the setting of being a daughter slave.
It seems very strange that an old man who has been imprisoned in a secret prison for nearly 30 years has a 25-year-old daughter.
Well, the answer is that Mason has escaped from prison twice, and this daughter happened to be the result of his sudden infatuation with an American woman he met in a bar during the short month between his escape from Alcatraz Prison and his recapture.
Although Jack already knew the whole story, he still couldn't complain about this ridiculous setting.
But he had a question he wanted answered. "Sir, since the FBI knew he had a daughter, didn't they ever consider using her to do something? Like, forcing Mason to hand over the films?"
Director Womack replied with a righteous expression, "The FBI is no longer what it used to be under Hoover."
Seeing Jack's half-smile, he sighed softly, "Okay, it was David Rossi. He was vehemently against my decision at first."
"Looks like it was the right decision now, isn't it, sir?" Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Rossi was still the kind old man he knew. Just
then, a piercing roar echoed from the next room. The two men who were talking turned around at the same time and were horrified to see a spiderweb of cracks appearing on the one-way glass between the two rooms.
Jack had not re-cuffed Mason when he left, out of courtesy. Now, the old man, with all his strength, lifted the steel chair he was sitting on and smashed it against the one-way glass.
Jack instinctively shielded his own director behind him and drew his sidearm, pointing it at the interrogation room.
"Don't shoot! Jack! Don't shoot!" Chief Womack, hiding behind Jack, shouted a warning.
Of course, Jack couldn't shoot, but he still had to make the necessary gestures. Otherwise, when the Chief came to his senses, he'd be in trouble.
Another loud bang rang out, and the tempered glass cracked into fine lines. Mason dropped the steel chair, which weighed as much as his own body weight, and swung his elbow into the already fragile glass, sending shards flying and creating a large hole.
The alarm blared, and Chief Womack stared at Mason, his hair and beard standing on end, speechless for a moment.
"Womack! I knew it was you, you piece of shit!" Mason's expression was ferocious, as if he was ready to kill anyone.
At that moment, the door to the interrogation room opened, and two guards armed with police weapons and the detective who had been guarding the door rushed in.
The old man immediately raised his hands, holding his head in his hands and squatting with a skillful gesture that was heartbreaking.
"Two hours, Jack, remember, you only have two hours." Director Womack, feeling rather embarrassed, stormed off, not forgetting to give a final warning before departing. The
Fremont
Hotel is a renowned hotel brand. For example, the Peace Hotel in Seres is a household name.
The Fremont Hotel in downtown San Francisco's Nob Hill boasts a history dating back to 1907; the UN Charter was signed in its opera house.
The wealthy FBI had booked the entire penthouse. Since it was noon and they only had two hours, they wouldn't delay the arrival of the celebrities.
Nearly a hundred FBI agents cordoned off the penthouse, as if facing a formidable enemy. However, when Jack emerged downstairs with a beautiful girl, they found the FBI Director hanging from the rooftop balcony by one hand, by a shower curtain cord.
Jack instinctively checked the time. Tsk, it had only been an hour since he left.
Upstairs, the FBI agents were scrambling to rescue their boss. Jack looked up. The top balcony was about seven or eight stories above the ground. The people up there didn't seem to notice him, so there was no need to rush up to show his loyalty.
The hotel entrance was a three-meter-tall classical arch, with three marble columns on each side. The entrance was bustling with activity, and the red-uniformed parking attendant was busy and briskly busy.
Amid the screams of the crowd at the entrance, Mr. Mason, freshly shaved and dressed in a high-end suit, stumbled out. He lowered his head and was about to rush towards a Hummer on the side of the road when Jack shouted at him.
"Mason, I think the person you want to see is right here."
Mason turned around in surprise, his gaze first landing on Jack, then following his arm to the face of the brown-haired girl he was holding. "Jade?"
His face suddenly changed color, and he strode forward angrily, roaring at Jack, "Get your filthy hands off my daughter, you bastard FBI boy!"
-
The Palace of Fine Arts is a famous San Francisco attraction, located not far from the Golden Gate Bridge.
Despite the "Palace" in its name, it's essentially a large domed pavilion, surrounded by red columns and stone walls, in the style of a Roman ruin, with ventilation on all sides.
However, even today, the palace, built for the 1914 Panama-Pacific Exposition, is considered a century-old historical structure, and the surrounding scenery is beautiful, making it a perfect location for wedding photos.
In the center of the Palace of Fine Arts stood a flower bed and several stone chairs. Jack politely gestured to the father and daughter, who had remained silent throughout their journey, and then stepped aside.
"The last time I saw a picture of you, you were only ten years old." Mason finally spoke after sitting down and musing for a long time.
Compared to the old father he had never met, Jade Angelo was a little calmer. After all, Jack had already told her the purpose of his visit when he came to pick her up.
"I recognized you. I found your picture among my mother's belongings after she passed away. You haven't changed much."
"Ah, what... me..." Mason's throat heaved for a long time, as if he had a thousand words to say but didn't know where to begin.
Finally, it was Jade Angelo who brought up the topic. "I know you've been in prison for all these years, but that FBI agent told me you're not a bad person, just a patriot.
I don't know what that means, but I want to believe it."
Mason instinctively glanced at the FBI agent with his back to them not far away, his eyes slightly surprised.
After sitting down and standing up again, Mason finally calmed down. "Jade, I've been constantly imagining and practicing what I'd say to you when I see you.
But when we finally meet, I don't know where to begin. There's so much I want to tell you.
About me and your mother, about why I can't be with you, about... everything."
(End of this chapter)