Chapter 57: The Switched Sample
He hung up and downed the whiskey on his desk. The burning liquid went down his throat, giving him a powerful rush of satisfaction.
He could already picture Evelyn’s face—shocked, desperate, and broken—when she saw her work destroyed. It would be spectacular. He loved that feeling: the absolute control of having her whole life clenched in his fist.
Elsewhere, the taxi moved through the streets of New York. Evelyn leaned back, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the edge of her coat, betraying her tension. The driver was a chatterbox. Evelyn gave vague replies, her focus entirely on the rearview mirror.
The discreet black sedan had been following her since she got in. Damian’s tactics were still so predictable.
The taxi neared a narrow intersection. The light turned red, and traffic slowed to a stop. Just then, a shadow rushed from the sidewalk without warning. Thud! It hit the hood of the taxi and slid to the ground.
“Ah! My leg! It’s broken!” A middle-aged man was writhing and wailing on the pavement, clutching his knee. The knee of his faded jeans was suddenly ripped, with a horrifying hint of blood.
The driver’s face turned white. Before Evelyn could react, several “passersby” instantly swarmed the car.
“What the hell? Can’t you watch where you’re driving?” a young man in a baseball cap yelled, slamming his hand on the window. “You hit someone and you’re hiding in the car? Get out!”
The crowd swelled. Shouts, curses, and jeers hammered the car like a tide, completely engulfing the small taxi. The driver was panicking.
Evelyn’s eyes went cold. The performance was too fake. The sudden appearance of all these “righteous” bystanders was too coincidental. This wasn’t an accident; it was a setup. A clumsy trap meant only to buy time. Damian, is that all you’ve got?
She found it almost funny. Calmly, she hit the central lock. The car sealed with a click, isolating them from the noise. She took out her phone, quickly dialing 911.
“Hello, police? I’m at the intersection of 12th Avenue and Maple Street in Queens, being held for ransom after a staged accident. Yes, someone purposely jumped in front of my taxi. We are currently surrounded. The license plate is HSW7342.”
Her voice was clear and steady, as if she were reporting a minor inconvenience. The people outside saw her on the phone and yelled louder. The driver was too terrified to speak, asking Evelyn what to do.
“Ignore them,” Evelyn said simply. “The police will be here shortly.”
Her attention was entirely focused on the spectacle. She coldly watched the performance, analyzing Damian’s goal. Just to stop her? That seemed too simple.
However, all her defenses were aimed forward. She didn’t notice that under the cover of the chaos, a man in a delivery uniform on an electric scooter silently coasted up to the back of the taxi. No one paid him any attention.
He pulled a small metal tool from his delivery bag and expertly slipped it into the trunk lock. A quiet click was instantly swallowed by the crowd’s noise. The trunk popped open. He quickly pulled it ajar, hauled out the heavy black case, and swiftly replaced it with a near-identical, but empty, case from his scooter.
The entire operation took less than five seconds. Thump. The trunk closed softly, the sound drowned out by a huge man slamming his fist against the car door. The delivery man got back on his scooter and disappeared around the next corner.
In the distance, sirens wailed. The man who had been rolling on the ground froze. Hearing the police approach, he instantly sprang up, his supposedly “broken” leg moving faster than anyone else’s. He sprinted into a nearby alley and vanished.
The “passersby” scattered immediately. In less than ten seconds, the gridlocked intersection was clear.
Two police officers arrived shortly and took notes. Evelyn gave a concise description, and the driver corroborated it. The officers warned them about the recent surge in staged accidents.
Evelyn nodded absently, the feeling that something was wrong growing stronger. Damian went to all this trouble just to buy twenty minutes? Unless... his goal wasn't to delay her at all.
A terrifying thought flashed through her mind. She quickly ended her conversation with the police and walked to the back of the car. "Wait, let me check my things." She opened the trunk.
The black case sat quietly inside, apparently undamaged. Evelyn's worry eased slightly. Maybe she was overthinking things. She reached for the case, intending to check for the glow-in-the-dark sticker, but the moment her fingers touched the handle, she froze.