Chapter 367: You Can’t Blame Me If You Seek Your Own Death (Bonus Chapter 8)

Crushing the wine glass in his hand, William shook his hand and used his mental power to gather all the broken pieces, tossing them into the trash. He grabbed a new glass, poured himself some more wine, and continued drinking for over an hour. Finally, Sunday reported that McCall had boarded a flight to Thailand, and only then did William return to his bedroom to sleep.

In New York, at 7 AM the next morning, Susan Plummer had just finished getting ready. She was planning to pack a few things, head to the office in the morning, and then go straight to the airport with her luggage in the afternoon to fly to London to meet McCall.

Ever since receiving McCall's secret message requesting a meeting at Oxford University Library, Susan had been restless. From the fact that McCall didn't call her but sent a secret message instead, she knew that whatever it was, it was both important and dangerous.

For the past couple of days, she had been hesitating. As a semi-retired special agent, she wasn't sure if she should risk meeting McCall. In the end, friendship and her decades of instincts as a special agent won out over fear, and she decided to go.

But before she could start packing, she habitually picked up her phone and noticed a message from an unknown number. Opening it, she saw it was from McCall, sent from Thailand, telling her he had accepted a mission from William to target a major Thai drug lord known as the Eight-faced Buddha.

Seeing this, Susan quickly dialed the new number, instinctively believing her CIA-encrypted phone was secure. What she didn't know was that everything she did was already being monitored by Sunday.

William, wanting to avoid arousing McCall's suspicions, hadn't actively monitored him. But as soon as Susan made the call, Sunday identified McCall's new phone in Thailand.

As soon as Susan started dialing, William, still in London, heard Sunday report, "Sir, Susan Plummer is calling McCall." Then the sound of the call connecting came through his earpiece, followed by the "beep, beep, beep" of the ringing tone.

It seemed that Susan's satellite-encrypted phone made it even easier for Sunday, who could directly hack into satellite signals. The call quickly connected, and William could hear the conversation between McCall and Susan in real time.

"Hello, Susan. Good morning," McCall greeted.

Hearing McCall's voice, the uneasy Susan finally relaxed and smiled. "Good morning—oh, no, it's afternoon for you. Good afternoon, McCall."

After exchanging pleasantries, Susan asked, "So, you're working for William Devonshire?"

"Zzz, zzz."

Suddenly, the connection between Susan and McCall began to break up. "Hello? Hello?"

However, William could hear everything clearly. Confused, he asked Sunday, "What's going on?"

"Sir, I'm jamming their call. Should I cut the connection?" Sunday responded.

"No need. I want to hear what McCall has to say. When I sent him to Thailand, I didn't care if the stealth combat suit's secret got leaked. After all, it's just an application of virtual imaging technology. What I care about is whether McCall will betray me—taking my pay while helping the Americans undermine me."

"Understood, sir. Restoring the signal."

"Hello? Hello?"

"Ah, finally, I can hear you," McCall's voice came back. "Sorry, Susan, the signal here in Thailand isn't great. Yes, I'm currently working for William Devonshire. I wanted to contact you because, during this mission, I discovered that he possesses a limited stealth combat suit."

"A limited stealth suit? How effective is it?" Susan immediately asked.

"When stationary, it can make the user completely invisible. While moving at a normal pace, the likelihood of being detected is very low unless someone is really paying attention. During Operation Polar Bear, we followed instructions, and the entire mission went off without a hitch," McCall explained.

"Polar Bear?" As an experienced agent, Susan quickly put two and two together. She realized what McCall was referring to. "So, you were the ones who took out Pushkin, and William Devonshire was the mastermind behind it."

"That's right," McCall confirmed.

"If that's true, McCall, we need to meet," Susan said excitedly. "This mission of yours is crucial. You need to stay close to him and gather leverage on William Devonshire. That's more important than anything else. Think about it—if we can control William, not only will our agency's funding increase, but we might also get our hands on his tech. 

"And there's a rumor going around the underworld. A few months ago, a group of people wearing fully enclosed, bulletproof suits went on a rampage on Bilena Island in South America, wiping out most of the people growing and selling... 'flour.' I've long suspected those suits were developed by William, but when I reported it to Bruce Willis, the head of Special Operations in New York, I couldn't provide any evidence, so the matter's been dragging on. McCall, I need your intel. If we can get dirt on William, we can control him."

"No, no, no, absolutely not," McCall replied firmly. "Susan, you're putting yourself in danger. William Devonshire isn't just a rich man. I'm telling you this because I believe it's the right thing to do, but I don't want to pull you into this. Reporting to your superiors and staying in the shadows is the right move. Think about your husband. You two don't have kids, and if he loses you, he'll end up like me—alone, living in a world full of painful memories."

Susan fell silent, thinking about McCall's years of grief after losing his beloved wife. After a long pause, she said, "Alright, I'll do as you say. Thank you, McCall. You be careful, too."

"I will. Can you check something for me?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"William told me his uncle was killed by the Eight-faced Buddha, which is why he sent me to Thailand to track him down. But I'm having trouble believing him, unless he really did have a relative murdered by the Buddha."

"A relative? That's impossible. The Devonshire family only consists of William, his mother, and the Earl of Oxford, right?" Susan said, puzzled, before gasping as she realized something. "Are you talking about his father's side of the family?"

"Exactly," McCall replied, excited. "No one knows who William Devonshire's father is. If we can uncover that, it would be a huge breakthrough in investigating him."

"Of course," Susan said, now also excited. "Don't worry, I'll get to the bottom of it. We've got someone on the inside with the Eight-faced Buddha. As soon as I have any news, I'll call you."

"Great, I'll wait for your update. Bye."

"Bye."

After hanging up, Susan didn't bother making breakfast for her husband. She quickly got dressed, grabbed her car keys, and drove straight to the New York Special Operations office.

Meanwhile, William, who had been listening the whole time, smiled as he lounged on his sofa. "You want to get dirt on me? Heh, if you're looking to die, you can't blame me for it. Sunday, get me the phone number for 'the Church.' Oh, and the Church's real name is Bruce Willis."

"Understood, sir."

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