Chapter 205
Chapter 205: The Plot (2)
I wore a bulletproof vest as a precaution. A loose turtleneck sweater over it helped conceal my body lines. Thankfully, winter’s thick coats worked in our favor. Nobody would notice I was wearing a vest unless they touched me directly. Jonathan had insisted I wear it.
To fake bleeding, I had a blood pack strapped to my waist. While I was going for moderate injury-level bleeding, Liam, who needed to be pronounced dead, had two packs.
Saint-Germain had procured these blood packs from somewhere, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask about their source. Not with him staring at me with those bright blue eyes sparkling as if asking if I really wanted to know. I’d once said “My desire to know things is no less than yours,” but I was wrong. That man was insane. You don’t mess with crazy people. Before Saint-Germain’s true madness, I was just pretending. Or rather, I had no desire to push Saint-Germain aside and become the real thing.
“When the accident happens, burst the packs at the right moment.”
“Right, of course.”
Liam nodded lightly as he answered.
He was wearing a black cashmere coat. Underneath, he had on a navy shirt and dark charcoal pants—dark colors chosen to conceal the blood packs and his condition. White clothes would show too much, after all. It would be problematic if someone who’d supposedly lost a liter of blood didn’t have a scratch on them.
“First, we’ll drive to the hotel, pretending to move our luggage. Make them feel like this is their only chance to take us out.”
Saint-Germain’s sacrificial vehicle for today was a white luxury sedan. It pained me to think about this beautiful car being rolled around and crushed recklessly.
Jonathan had chosen an SUV. It was pitch black with such dark tinting that you could barely see inside or make out the driver. He said the license plate was fake too. Jonathan added that he’d put a lot of thought into choosing a nonexistent number.
“After I hit the car, I’ll come straight back here. Ian agreed to help.”
“Be careful, Jonathan. You too, Ian.”
Ian answered awkwardly.
“You be careful too, Aunt. Make sure to wear your seatbelt.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Don’t overdo it with the blood.”
“I know, I know.”
When Ian fusses like this, he reminds me more of a parent than a nephew. Holding back a smile, I sat in the passenger seat next to Liam. He planted a light kiss on my forehead and whispered dramatically.
“You’ll allow me one last kiss before I die, won’t you?”
“Who talks like that on their way to die?”
“That’s how they usually say it in movies.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“You’re banned from movies.”
Liam let out a languid laugh as he released the parking brake. He shifted gears and gently pressed the accelerator, setting the car in motion.
Just as our vehicle was leaving the residential area where Saint-Germain’s mansion was located, I spotted someone watching us from around a block corner. A pale-faced man with unnaturally large eyes that sent chills down my spine. His sparse remaining hair and shabby appearance stood out. “Huh!” I gasped, eyes widening. Liam, gripping the steering wheel, asked:
“Are we being followed?”
“No, there’s a watcher.”
After a moment of silence, Liam muttered cynically:
“Perfect. Means they’re keeping a close eye on us.”
* * *
We drove slowly across London at the speed limit, heading back to our hotel.
Everything went smoothly up to that point. The problem arose when we checked out and drove toward Waterloo Bridge.
The intersection—our agreed-upon location. After we crossed when the light changed, Jonathan would crash into us like in a movie. I tried to steady myself. Don’t get nervous. I couldn’t fumble when bursting the blood pack.
But suddenly, a large vehicle roared toward us from the distance.
“Oh dear.”
Liam sighed quietly.
“Jane, hold tight.”
“What?”
And then I realized things had gone wrong.
This wasn’t the plan. Jonathan was supposed to be in a black SUV. But the vehicle charging fiercely toward us was a refrigerated truck. Some kind of seafood delivery truck…
Had Jonathan suddenly changed the plan? But that seemed unlikely. Jonathan was a meticulous planner; he wouldn’t deviate from what was already decided.
As if to prove this, a vehicle behind the refrigerated truck started chasing it, blaring its horn loudly. It was the black SUV. Amid the urgent honking, our car suddenly accelerated.
“To the bridge?”
I asked, gripping the handle above the window. Liam nodded as he turned the steering wheel sharply before straightening it. His driving showed near-artistic skill, but there was no time to admire it.
With a screeching sound of metal scraping pavement, our car narrowly avoided the refrigerated truck. The truck that passed us couldn’t slow down and crashed straight into a streetlight. Right after, Jonathan and Ian’s black SUV slammed into the back of the truck with a bang! The wheels kept spinning as if they were still pressing the accelerator.
Liam quickly regained control of the car and headed straight for the bridge. And it actually half-succeeded. The refrigerated truck was just faster than us.
An accident of that magnitude should have left the driver unconscious for a while. Like when Liam and I were in that taxi that got hit by a truck and crashed into a streetlight.
But this truck, despite having a medium-sized vehicle wedged into its rear, shook it off at an astonishing speed and broke free. Then it charged at our vehicle at nearly 90 kilometers per hour.
The car flipped over with a sound I’d never heard before. My body momentarily went weightless. With each roll of the impact-crushed vehicle, more cracks spread across the windshield. The car crumpled, pressing in on us.
Fortunately, Ian’s protection spell or whatever it was protected my vital points so I should still be okay, but the impact was hammering through my body.
Liam reached out to grab me while protecting himself, seemingly worried I might get thrown from the car.
Bang! The airbags deployed with perfect timing. Liam shouted:
“Hold tight!”
“These crazy bastards…”
We didn’t even need to burst the blood packs. We were already a mess, with cuts and bruises all over our faces and foreheads.
The car rolled four more times before sliding along completely upside down, finally stopping with a crash into a bridge lamppost. It was truly miraculous we hadn’t fallen into the Thames.
People’s screams echoed chaotically at the sudden major accident. Smoke was starting to rise from the car’s engine compartment.
The blood pack on Liam’s abdomen seemed to have torn from the impact. Streams of blood were growing thicker as they ran down his face from his inverted neck.
Dizzy from the blood rushing to my head, I could see fuel leaking through the shattered window. We were done for. The car would explode. We had to get out before it caught fire.
While my ears were ringing from the impact and my semicircular canals were doing jump rope, I barely managed to unfasten my twisted seatbelt and fall upside down.
Unfortunately, Liam’s side was completely blocked by the truck, so we had to escape through the passenger window. Just as I got out of the vehicle first and tried to help support Liam getting out, someone got down from the truck that had hit us and approached. The sound of shoe heels striking the asphalt echoed.
That fishy smell. Once again, that familiar and nauseating bizarre smell wafted strongly.
I instantly recognized who had crashed into us.
It was that man who had been watching the sleeping people at the Westminster mansion. Though this was the first time I’d seen his face up close.
His clouded whites and unfocused pupils like a dead fish’s eyes stared at me emotionlessly. And from his chest…
“Damn it!”
I cursed and shoved Liam. Pushed unexpectedly, Liam cried out “Oh!” in surprise. What’s there to be surprised about? I’m the only one wearing a bulletproof vest here. If Liam gets hit by that gun, he’ll be off to the next world for real. This was definitely the right decision.
What the man held in his hand was a .22 caliber pistol. A pitch-black gun with no silencer or anything—the kind you’d only see in movies.
‘…Isn’t England supposed to ban guns?’
The .22 caliber pistol’s muzzle was aimed precisely at where my heart would be. Blood kept dripping into my eyes, making them sting. I gasped for breath while wiping away the blood.
“What are you?”
“…”
The man remained silent. But looking into those empty eyes, somehow… it felt like I was facing that person I’d once seen in the photograph. Even though they looked completely different.
Just as that eerie feeling hit me, the muzzle flashed. With a bang! the bullet fired.
