Chapter 106: Failure
Frank stopped running only when he couldn't go any further, purchasing a bottle of water to catch his breath.
"Mr. Frank, where do you plan to go?" a voice suddenly sounded from behind him.
"Whoa!" Frank choked on his water, eyes wide open, spraying it everywhere.
"Cough, cough! Cough!" He turned around to see the driver standing calmly behind him, not even slightly out of breath.
"Where did you go? I was just looking for you. Honestly, you're so slow!" Frank's mind raced as he quickly covered up.
It appeared as though Frank had merely walked too fast for his bodyguard-driver to keep up, rather than having been caught trying to escape.
"My apologies. It was my oversight," the driver said, apologizing without any further comment.
"Don't let it happen again," Frank replied curtly.
"How did he catch up with me? With so many people around, he shouldn't have been able to spot me or know where I was," Frank pondered.
"He must have some method to accurately track my location," Frank thought, suddenly noticing the subtle flashing light on the driver's sunglasses—definitely not ordinary sunglasses.
Frank recalled that the sunglasses previously appeared normal on their outings.
"Could those sunglasses have a tracking function? Or perhaps it's the new phone they gave me last night!" Unconsciously, Frank's hands touched the phone in his pocket.
"Damn, why didn't I ditch the phone when I ran?" Frank regretted, realizing he should have discarded the phone, suspecting it might have a listening device, and if it had that, a tracking device wouldn't be surprising.
However, in his haste to escape, he had forgotten about the phone.
Now, it was too late to regret—he'd been caught.
Even if he had tossed the phone, he might still have been caught. After all, everything he wore, from clothes to shoes, was provided by the butler, possibly containing tracking devices.
Yet, Frank wasn't ready to give up.
He tried slipping out through the back door of a lingerie store, but the driver followed him inside.
He attempted to escape through a bathroom window in a bar, but the driver shadowed him, standing right outside the stall, unbothered by the stench, waiting for him to emerge.
Frank's attempt to flee seemed to have alerted them.
By nightfall, unable to shake off the driver, Frank resignedly returned with him to Joseph's estate.
"Welcome back," the butler greeted him as usual, unchanged.
Frank exchanged pleasantries, looking at his companions sprawled drunkenly and euphorically on sofas and carpets, and sighed inwardly.
Blissfully unaware, they were indeed fortunate. Even if they vanished without a trace, it would be painless, like passing away in sleep.
If Frank hadn't controlled his drinking, he might have ended up like them, lost in intoxication, eventually becoming the next to "go home."
Initially, Frank struggled with his urge to drink, but now he had no interest.
His life was more important than alcohol, something both Frank and the "old Frank" agreed on.
Frank headed straight to his room, lying on his bed.
"Escaping while out seems nearly impossible with the driver always tailing me. If I tried to use force, I doubt I could overpower him. He could restrain me with one hand."
"Though they suspect I've noticed something, it's just suspicion. If I fail in a forceful escape, it would rip off the last veneer of civility."
"Then, they might not be so polite, possibly confining me until my 'disappearance' day," Frank mused anxiously.
"But I can't give up. I need to plan carefully," Frank considered. His escape attempt had been impulsive.
"Maybe I can find a way to escape from within the estate," Frank thought, glancing at the patrolling security outside his window.
However, it was still early, so Frank didn't act. Watching the clock, he subconsciously took out his phone.
Frank considered calling the police. After all, he'd been taught since childhood to seek help from law enforcement.
But he knew, especially now, that relying on police wasn't effective. Bureaucratic departments passed the buck, trivializing issues, preferring to avoid trouble. Seeking help from journalists was more effective.
In the U.S., even more so, in a capitalist society driven by money, would the police offend a billionaire like Joseph for a bunch of slum-dwellers?
The answer was obvious.
Frank recalled Kevin mentioning that during Joseph's first visit to Chicago, he took a few old friends with him, just like Frank and the others, promising a fun trip to New York.
Those people were never heard from again, and being mere drinking buddies, no one cared about their fate. Perhaps their families reported them missing.
Even if the police knew their last whereabouts, brought to New York by Joseph, they wouldn't suspect their disappearance was linked to a billionaire.
As Frank had realized, a billionaire like Joseph could buy anything; why would he covet something from a bunch of poor folks? They had neither wealth nor beauty.
By saying those people returned long ago, Joseph could easily clear himself of suspicion.
If Frank and the others disappeared, the same outcome awaited—another forgotten entry in the missing persons' database, unnoticed.
Thousands vanish yearly, with less than a tenth found. The police lack the resources to search for missing people, especially when they're not wealthy but just slum-dwellers, unlikely to draw media attention.
If someone like Tony Stark went missing, it would grab headlines and spark public debate.