The phone is turned off! Paul said disappointedly.

"Dear Jenny, the information you need is FedEx to you, please check it carefully! Love you Paul."

With a "ding" sound, the mobile phone message was sent.

Half an hour later, a message flashed.

Paul opened the phone and said, "Thank you!" followed by a picture of a blowing kiss and a hug.

Paul walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, and took out a 500 ml can of Randall's stout.

With a "pop" sound, a stream of light yellow beer foam emerged and flowed down the outer wall. He raised his head and took a big sip, and a cool feeling rushed down his throat.

He took off his clothes, walked into the bathroom, stood under the shower head, turned the hot water to the maximum, and a stream of hot water flowed from the tips of his hair to his heels.

When the hot water turned cold, he picked up a dry towel, dried his body, put on his pajamas and slippers, walked to the bedroom, and lay on the bed. He was still shocked and scared, and couldn't believe what he had done.

For the next few days, Paul felt dazed and uneasy.

Paul was looking at the pictures Jenny sent a few days ago, dreaming about going on vacation, when his cell phone rang.

"It must be Jenny!" Paul said happily, "Jenny, have you finished writing your report?"

A rough voice came, startling Paul, "Hey, buddy! We have Jenny in our hands and want to talk to you."

"Who are you? What's wrong with Jenny?" Paul asked in surprise.

"Who am I? Baby, you don't need to know this. Jenny is fine and in our hands." The other party smiled, "I'm warning you not to call the police, otherwise Jenny will become a dead person immediately! Do you hear me?"

"Please don't hurt Jenny! Please, how much do you want?" Paul begged.

"We don't want money, we just want cooperation, and we need you to cooperate with us obediently, little baby!" The other party continued, "Tonight at nine o'clock at the Reading Bar on Grant Street in Queens. I hope you can come on time, otherwise, you understand

,snort!"

After saying that, the other party turned off his phone.

Paul stood there, at a loss, his mind went blank, his whole body felt cold, as if he had suddenly fallen into a bottomless abyss.

He hoped it was a prank, but rationally told himself that it wasn't.

Paul grabbed the phone, pressed "911" and immediately put it down. Doing so would hurt Jenny.

No! He needs to calm down.

Paul quickly went downstairs, started the engine, and drove home.

He took out a cigarette and held it in his mouth. The lighter emitted blue flames. He frowned and fell into thinking.

The reality is even more absurd than the drama, and he is a protagonist without a script.

Choosing to escape is a coward. Paul made up his mind.

Paul put on a loose white silk shirt, tight-fitting gray jeans, and a pair of elastic casual shoes. He pressed his legs, stretched his waist, and stretched his muscles.

Then, Paul walked into the bedroom, opened the drawer of the bedside table, flipped to the bottom, found a Colt automatic pistol, and put it in his pants pocket.

When the Dodge drove out of the underground garage, it was already dark and the street lights were dim.

Paul drove about five miles when he saw a sign erected on the street that read "Grant Avenue".

Paul's heart was pounding, he took a deep breath, and his palms were soaked with sweat.

He slowed down the car and drove straight along Grant Avenue. The road followed the foot of the mountain, sometimes going up, sometimes down, and around, until it entered the remote suburbs.

On the edge of Queens, he saw a billboard for a Reading bar, located next to a dilapidated and abandoned factory.

This is an old three-story building, with parts of the exterior walls peeling off, a few holes in the window glass, and a musty smell everywhere. Paul has never been to such a cheap bar.
Chapter completed!