Chapter 67: Eddie's Staged Assassination (4000 words)
Compared to Travis, who was in a foul mood, David seemed quite interested to see a familiar face.
He even started chatting casually with Travis for the first time.
Only then did he learn that Travis was not a local; he was a Vietnam veteran who had been struggling in the underbelly of New York and New Jersey for over a decade now.
Travis emphasized his military service during the conversation.
His original intention was to imply to David that he was a veteran and harming him would bring serious consequences.
Unexpectedly, David seemed completely unfazed by this, so Travis could only sheepishly stop mentioning his background.
However, when he heard David suddenly ask about Elias, Travis immediately clamped his mouth shut and stopped talking.
The matter of Elias was not something he could discuss carelessly.
As the most well-informed cab driver in the city, besides following the news and listening to talk radio, the thing he did most often was overhear passengers' conversations.
And what passengers talked about most now was how a certain nightclub had been raided, how a certain warehouse was actually a counterfeit currency operation, and a name that frequently appeared in those discussions—Elias.
From their words, Travis realized that the city's criminal underworld was undergoing a major power shift.
The entity named Elias was very likely to become the ultimate victor.
Because everyone feared him.
David's identity included connections to the Continental Hotel; his asking about Elias might mean he intended to go after him.
If Elias died, and those ruthless subordinates sought revenge, he, as a cab driver, would be completely powerless to resist.
Those bloodthirsty gang members wouldn't care about his veteran status.
The final outcome would only be his body discovered in a dumpster.
Seeing Travis's silence, David narrowed his eyes:
"It looks like you know something?"
Hearing David's cold words, Travis felt that the small cab suddenly filled with menace at that moment.
His body immediately tensed, and his clothes were instantly soaked with cold sweat.
Just as his face turned pale and his lips trembled as he wanted to say something.
David suddenly said:
"Wait, you've gone past it, aren't you stopping?"
Travis, coming back to his senses, saw that he had already driven past the Continental Hotel.
He quickly slammed on the brakes, and caught off guard, he almost had an intimate encounter with the steering wheel.
David didn't seem to want to wait for his answer, still casually offering a hundred-dollar bill.
It seemed that no matter the distance, in David's mind, a hundred-dollar bill was enough to cover the fare and tip.
As for Travis, who picked up the hundred-dollar bill, he already felt he couldn't stay in this city any longer.
He sincerely didn't want to drive David, didn't want to get involved, but when he was actually face-to-face with David, he truly didn't dare refuse.
This wasn't some anonymous internet forum where he could talk tough without consequences.
If he refused the fare in person, he feared David would pull a weapon and things would go very badly.
Since he couldn't afford to provoke him, he could only choose to hide!
When his lease expired, he must definitely leave this city and stay away from David!
Compared to the scenarios Travis was imagining, David didn't have that many concerns.
He had only asked about Elias casually.
For him, as long as Princeton wasn't completely controlled by the High Table, it was acceptable.
He just didn't know what kind of relationship existed between Elias and the High Table in this world.
Now his team was also beginning to take shape.
Next, McCall should be able to settle Terri's situation and will temporarily join the rescue of the 'irrelevant numbers.'
Soon he would know if, under such circumstances, it counted as him saving people.
Furthermore, the addition of Eddie and Walter was equivalent to providing insurance for the team's future.
Although he exchanged three days of lifespan for three brief cognitive enhancements.
But the result was still good; at least Eddie and Walter were convinced by him.
In the foreseeable future, the paths of these two would at least not deviate significantly.
However, compared to Walter, who would choose to set up a mobile lab in an RV to research NZT, Eddie needed David's continuous attention more.
Because Eddie, exposed in the public eye, would be easily targeted by political opponents.
This targeting included, but was not limited to, a series of dirty tricks such as slander, entrapment, and assassination attempts.
After all, in this America, even Kennedy had been assassinated.
Let alone a small, just-starting-out Eddie.
It seemed he should recruit more talent.
David, thinking about his future plans, was suddenly called over by Charon at the front desk.
Charon examined David with his keen eyes for a while before taking out a gold coin, handing it over, and saying:
"Winston is waiting for you downstairs."
When David felt Charon's scrutinizing gaze, he immediately understood Winston's intention in summoning him.
The recent dismantling of the Tarasov organization's Princeton operations had clearly attracted everyone's attention.
Pushkin's position in that area was second only to Viggo Tarasov himself.
The demise of the Tarasov organization's regional influence, led by Pushkin, was equivalent to a major blow to the organization.
As one of the High Table's information hubs, the Continental Hotel was bound to receive pressure from above.
Although David had the Machine erase footage of him appearing in surveillance.
But there was one loophole he could never fill, which was gaps in his own timeline.
If someone had been monitoring him closely, they would notice this anomaly.
So when David sat across from Winston, Winston smiled knowingly:
"Although I don't know exactly how you did it, I know you were involved.
Well done, young man.
You can get another batch of untraceable firearms from Charon; no one will be able to trace their origin.
Consider this my gesture of goodwill."
Facing Winston's probing, David denied it as usual:
"I don't understand what you're saying.
As for those firearms, I don't need them either.
I'm just an honest doctor, what use would I have for guns?
My hands are for saving lives, not for taking them."
Winston looked at David's cautious reply, a look of approval in his eyes.
As long as David didn't admit it, and as long as he didn't accept this batch of ostensibly untraceable firearms, the allegation that David killed Pushkin could never be confirmed.
Because the witnesses present were all dead, and the cameras didn't capture any figures.
Such a clean and decisive operation, with every movement in the camera's blind spots, was simply textbook.
He knew David had gaps in his timeline, but he couldn't definitively prove that David was responsible.
After all, David was still a terminal patient, one who had to rely on experimental targeted therapy to extend his life until recently.
Such a person was completely different from the profile of the operative who precisely, quickly, and ruthlessly eliminated Pushkin.
But Winston's intuition told him that this incident was definitely related to David.
This was why there was this probing, and why Charon looked at him with scrutiny again.
But whether it was truly related or not, he greatly admired David's actions.
The only pity was that this guy's life was too short.
Otherwise, he would even want to support David to become the next manager of the Continental Hotel.
"Is that so? That's a shame; I originally wanted to give the person who killed Pushkin a little hint.
Regarding the Tarasov organization's next moves."
Even though Winston threw out the bait, David remained unmoved:
"That has nothing to do with me. I'm here only to treat patients, save lives, earn gold coins, and then use the gold coins to pay for medicine to extend my life.
So saving people is equivalent to extending my own life.
Killing holds no benefit for me."
Winston smiled and stopped probing:
"Well said. The new targeted therapy has arrived. Charon will arrange for someone to send it to your room shortly.
Now, accompany me to watch a performance."
David looked towards the lounge area; today's entertainment appeared to be a documentary-style presentation.
Modern, stark imagery constantly flickered and alternated on the screens.
Then the narrative unfolded, depicting a future world composed of various powerful corporate oligarchs after economic collapse and social upheaval.
Here, the gap between rich and poor widened dramatically.
Lower-class workers successively lost their livelihoods due to acquisitions and automation by large corporations, finally being forced to migrate between major cities as economic refugees.
The urban middle class suffered from family separation due to widespread unemployment, ultimately forming desperate communities that turned to crime.
Those who seemed to be doing well—the corporate workers—although living seemingly comfortable lives externally, could only ever be cogs in the machine, living standardized lives of endless work.
While the true elite lived lives of luxury and excess.
At this point, the real story unfolded, about a small person born in the lower class who wanted to challenge the system.
Of course, it ended in tragedy, as expected.
After the presentation ended, Winston's voice softly sounded beside David:
"If I told you this is the direction we're heading in fifty years, would you believe it?"
David replied:
"No, I don't believe it."
Winston asked with interest:
"Oh, why?"
"Because there is only one High Table in this world."
Hearing David's answer, Winston's smile was enigmatic:
"No, there's more to this world than just the High Table.
Alright, that's all for today."
Looking at Winston, who was deliberately being cryptic, David truly wanted to press him and ask properly what other major organizations existed in this world besides the High Table.
But it was obvious that to extract information from Winston, either David had to be able to defeat all the assassins present, or David had to offer him information that Winston found valuable.
Both options were completely unrealistic.
David forcibly suppressed his curiosity and pretended not to care, returning to his room to rest.
No matter what organizations existed, as long as they operated in this world, he would find clues sooner or later.
However, David understood that the other forces mentioned by Winston were likely not in the United States itself.
Perhaps they were in places like Eastern Europe, Asia, or other regions.
David shook his head, no longer thinking about such speculative matters. He stored away the targeted therapy sent to his room and successfully fell asleep on his own again.
Then, he opened his eyes punctually one hour before starting work the next day.
At the same time, Eddie's video call came in.
Looking at Eddie's energetic appearance, David knew that this guy hadn't slept all night because of NZT.
It was even possible he hadn't eaten all night.
Eddie, in a state of high focus, turned the camera; this was a road that had to be used to reach Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.
"Everything is arranged. According to the information you gave me, he should be appearing from the street corner driving a Mercedes right about now..."
As Eddie described, a black Mercedes-Benz appeared in the frame. Judging by the license plate number, the driver was undoubtedly Pete.
Just then, a street cleaning truck also happened to pass by, spraying water on the road surface.
But for some reason, one of the storm drains seemed to be blocked, causing water to accumulate.
However, the truck driver didn't notice this due to the height of the driver's seat. Instead, he parked the truck on the side of the road and went to buy coffee without turning off the engine.
Then, a construction banner hanging above the road suddenly fell due to a loose securing rope, landing squarely on Pete's windshield.
With his view obstructed, Pete angrily reached out from the window to try and pull it off.
But in a moment of distraction, the steering wheel turned in his grip, veering off course and heading straight towards the cleaning truck.
Fortunately, Pete reacted quickly, immediately pulled himself back into the car, and slammed on the brakes, thus avoiding a collision.
Then Pete got out of the car, muttering curses, and stepped into the accumulated water sprayed by the cleaning truck, preparing to tear off the banner he had dragged for several yards.
As a result, a seemingly weathered storefront sign suddenly fell from above the shop as if the mounting had failed, crashing heavily beside the accumulated water.
Startled, Pete immediately burst into profanity.
The cleaning truck driver, who had returned after buying coffee, gave Pete a strange look, stepped on the accelerator, and drove away.
The water flow spread directly towards the fallen sign.
At this moment, Pete had just pulled off the banner and was about to get back into his car when a sharp tingling sensation came from the soles of his feet—the metal sign was conducting electricity from a damaged power line into the water.
Pete, frozen in place by the electrical current, was not discovered to be in distress until five minutes later when another driver noticed.
However, it was already too late. Pete, who was urgently sent to the hospital emergency room, had already stopped breathing, and his body showed signs of severe electrical burns.
At this point, Eddie finally hung up the phone.
He had perfectly executed the staged accident plan designed by David.
David, on the other end of the video call, slowly exhaled.
Now he wouldn't have to deal with Pete's antagonistic presence at work today.
The only unfortunate thing was that the gold coins on Pete's person were difficult for him to obtain.
However, he remembered that Pete had an assistant who had been following him.
Perhaps he should take Michael and visit this former stalker again.
When David, in a good mood, stepped into the hospital, he heard the tragic news: Pete had died at 7:25 this morning after resuscitation efforts failed.
To honor Pete's passing, David decided to work twice as hard in the emergency room today.
David's gaze landed on a homeless person lying on a gurney.
If David remembered correctly, this guy had rabies, and once symptomatic, the mortality rate was close to one hundred percent!
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