The freight elevator's iron doors creaked with an old, worn sound as they slowly opened. The security chief fled in disarray, accompanied by Bracken and the last bodyguard.
Despite numerous pre-emptive actions, even he couldn't immediately determine his location. The air was filled with a suffocating tension, as if every second stretched infinitely longer.
Siren wailed in the distance, seemingly close yet unreachable. The roar of helicopter propellers echoed in the sky, like an invisible, giant hand bearing down on them.
However, these sounds offered no reassurance, as suddenly, in the deserted alley, a series of clattering footsteps echoed.
The three looked in the direction of the sound and saw a bald old man standing not far behind them. His remaining white hair was barely tied back in a ponytail, and he was dressed like a hotel waiter.
But what truly terrified them was not just the man's insane appearance, but the explosive vest slung across his chest.
A dense network of detonators were strung together, with a cartoon-printed children's wall clock at the center. But what terrified the security chief the most was the loose-fitting detonator, held against the old man's head.
"Hold still!" the accompanying bodyguard, also a bald man, instinctively raised his pistol and shouted, his voice trembling.
His finger on the trigger, the bald bodyguard hesitated to fire, clearly aware that if the old man let go, no one would be left alive.
The panting congressman, already terrified, even wondered if he was hallucinating.
"What the hell is this?" he muttered, sweat trickling down his forehead.
"Ah!" Marvin let out a strange cry, completely ignoring the two men pointing trembling guns at him, and bolted towards the three men. His crisp footsteps echoed through the deserted alley, like a relentless pursuit.
"Run!" This time, without the security chief's urging, Bracken turned and broke into a run. Cold sweat streamed down his forehead, and the strange old man's cries seemed to linger in his ears, even the usually pampered congressman broke into a run.
Fortunately, at this critical moment, another black Lincoln limousine arrived, screeching to a halt at the intersection ahead.
"Get in!" Without even considering where this third Lincoln limousine had come from, the security chief rushed forward, flung open the door, and shoved Bracken, who had barely run for forty or fifty meters and was already out of breath, into the car.
"Drive! Drive!" Bracken shouted in panic, and the Lincoln accelerated, turning a corner and escaping the deadly suicide bomber.
Of course, what they didn't know was that after watching the red taillights disappear, Marvin stopped, whistled, and turned away.
In the car, Bracken, the security chief, and the bald bodyguard looked at each other, each seeing the relief of having escaped death.
However, accidents seemed to never end. The car window slammed, startling all three of them.
"Stop! Stop!" Cooper, who appeared out of nowhere, unexpectedly ran to catch up with the Lincoln, which had not yet accelerated, and frantically banged on the car window.
The security chief recognized this CIA at a glance. As he was hesitating, he heard Bracken's scream, "Ignore him, don't stop, go!"
The Lincoln slowly accelerated and soon left Cooper behind.
This time, it seemed safe. The councilman finally seemed to have regained some composure. He shifted nervously, his damp pants clinging to the leather seat, feeling cold and uncomfortable.
"I'll have to find out what happened today!" Anger was the best way to mask cowardice. After venting his anger, Bracken slumped in his seat like a deflated ball.
The security chief shrugged, not daring to look down, but out the window.
The hotel entrance was already surrounded by CPD cars and fire trucks summoned by the fire alarm. Seeing the traffic ahead was blocked, the Lincoln swerved, its extended body nimbly drifting through the gap in the median into the oncoming lane. Cooper, who had been
about to give up, seemed to have regained hope. He holstered his pistol, sprinted a few steps, and leaped up, stepping over the barrier and landing on the roof of a car that had slowed down to watch the excitement. Then, with another leap, he landed right on the roof of the Lincoln, which had turned back.
The security chief, knowing his identity, was now somewhat unsure whether he was friend or foe. He drew his sidearm again and pointed it at the CIA agent who was slowly sliding towards the rear window.
Cooper, clinging to the sidecars, his face distorted against the rear window, screamed, "Pull over! Pull over!"
The security chief hesitated for a moment, but ultimately hesitated to fire. He turned to the driver and shouted, "Throw him off!"
Before he could finish his words, the Lincoln reached an intersection. Amidst the screeching of tires, the extended body of the car executed another beautiful drift, sending Cooper, already struggling, flying.
"VIP out of danger," the security chief finally breathed a sigh of relief, picking up the intercom.
But then, the Lincoln suddenly braked again, and a rubber bullet shattered the small window between the driver's seat and the backseat, knocking the bald bodyguard unconscious.
The sudden braking caused the two unbelted men to lose their balance. The security chief, having just raised his head after leaning forward, was struck in the chest by a stun bullet, convulsing and falling into shock.
"What the hell?" the Brecken man was completely stunned, completely bewildered.
Frank grabbed a second stun gun, pointed it at him, and pulled the trigger. The stun bullet, attached to a copper wire, pierced the congressman's chest. The modified stun gun delivered a current far more powerful than a standard police stun gun, instantly knocking him unconscious.
A few minutes later, the Lincoln started up again, leaving only the bodyguard and security chief, still sound asleep.
At
the entrance of the Fairmont Hotel, a dejected Cooper, his suit sleeves torn and his face disheveled, limped back.
"There's no need to go to such lengths, is there, Agent Cooper?"
Hearing the familiar voice, the CIA agent looked up in surprise to find Jack, wearing an FBI-emblazoned bulletproof vest, blocking his path with a half-smile.
He was startled and quickly looked towards the hotel entrance. Seeing that Cassel was still under the control of his two companions, he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Get out of here!" Although he knew he was just acting, he couldn't help but feel a surge of anger rising in his heart after seeing Jack's handsome face.
(End of this chapter)