I Can Create Perfect Accidents. Chapter 51 - The Death of a Trusted Aide

Chapter 51: The Death of a Trusted Aide

Stansen’s status in the business world wasn’t the highest, but it wasn’t low either.

He was a rather special existence.

News that he was locked in the car spread throughout the top circles in almost an instant.

Gazes filled superiority were focused on Stansen.

Some were laughing lightly, some were amused, and some were looking at him in surprise.

They were receiving news regarding Stansen’s current situation from wherever they were.

At this moment, Stansen was panting heavily in the car.

Huff!

Huff!

Huff!

He didn’t even dare to open a crack in the window.

So now, the oxygen in the car was almost depleted by him, who was filled with terror.

This vice president of the Owain Chamber of Commerce was a middle-aged man in his fifties.

He was sweating profusely and trembling all over.

He even wanted to curl up under the car seat.

The tragic scene of Warwick’s death outside the car was still engraved in Stansen’s mind.

Actually, while Warwick was struggling, Stansen had the chance to save him.

After all, Warwick’s death was a process.

Not an instant.

His b.l.o.o.d.y hand even slapped against the car door and car window as he struggled.

His survival instinct told him that the person in the car could help him.

Because Stansen valued own his life very much, no matter where he went, his car was always equipped with emergency equipment and necessary medical medications.

And they were all the highest-grade items that he could obtain.

But Stenson was scared. Terrified.

In order to avoid being harmed, he chose to ignore Warwick’s need for help.

His trusted aide who had followed him for decades died in front of him just like that.

But he didn’t dare to move.

Maybe if he opened the car door slightly and handed over some hemostatic medicine and bandages, Warwick wouldn’t die so easily.

But the cowardly Stansen didn’t do anything.

He began to recall.

In the past, this trusted aide of his had schemed with him in many evil things.

Burn, rob, rape, and theft.

Stansen would do anything for his own benefit.

Warwick had naturally helped him by becoming his scapegoat before.

He had been a gunman for him and got thrown into prison.

Warwick had survived all these years.

Today, he had finally become a cold corpse forever.

Stansen suddenly regretted his decision.

He looked at the b.l.o.o.d.y handprint outside the window.

While feeling fearful, he finally felt a trace of regret.

What had happened in the past was already a fact.

He didn’t have much time to think back now.

He had to inform his situation to those people who could help him now.

In order to save own his life.

…

At the intersection where the crowd was panicking.

John looked at the Lamborghini not far away.

In front of the door on the driver’s side, a bloodied Warwick was leaning against it.

John’s expression didn’t change much.

He popped the last bun into his mouth and gulped it down.

He picked up the straw and poked it into the soy milk gla.s.s in his hand.

His peaceful eyes focused on the Foresee that only he could see.

At 8.46 PM and 21 seconds in the morning, gla.s.s fragments fell from the sky.

One of it pierced into the carotid artery of Stenson’s driver, Warwick…

At 8.46 PM and 56 seconds in the morning, seeing his subordinate who was trying to open the car door to seek emergency treatment.

Stansen quickly locked the car.

He looked out of the car in fear at Warwick, who kept knocking on the window.

At 8.49 PM and 37 seconds in the morning, no amount of pressure could stop the blood from gus.h.i.+ng out.

Blood quickly flowed out of Warwick’s body.

His heart stopped and his brained stopped working from lack of oxygen… Warwick died.

John turned and left.

Stansen’s Lamborghini was a custom-made bulletproof car and was a special vehicle.

All of these calculations were correct.

John already knew all these from Foresee.

Warwick had done many heinous things following Stansen.

He deserved death.

So John didn’t felt any extra emotions.

…

Soon, black BMWs arrived.

At an intersection not far away, they broke through the crowd and rushed over.

The cars stopped in front of the Lamborghini and surrounded it.

President Orne’s old butler, Kieran, got out from one of the cars.

He looked down at the unconscious Warwick and casually instructed, “Carry the corpse away.”

Then, he walked to the Lamborghini.

He lightly knocked on the car door.

Deng… Deng… Deng…

Stansen looked up.

He looked out of the window.

Seeing the familiar Kieran, the surrounding cars, and the police officers in black suits.

He was finally relieved and was overjoyed.

However, he still didn’t intend to open the door.

His lips and teeth were white. His hand trembled as he called Kieran.

It was obvious how frightened he was.

He didn’t even dare to open the door to confirm who the person outside was.

When he answered the phone, Kieran’s lips curled in disdain.

Although Stansen was the vice president and he was just a butler, their status was actually on par.

Kieran had followed Orne for many years.

He had experienced countless storms and hards.h.i.+ps.

He looked down on the cowardly Stansen from the bottom of his heart.

After confirmation, Stansen finally plucked up the courage to open the safety lock.

The bodyguards in front of the car formed a human wall.

A middle-aged butler sat into the Lamborghini.

The door was locked by Stansen again.

…

Owain Police Station Headquarters.

In the surveillance room.

The dozens of criminal investigation experts had strange expressions on their faces.

They were looking at the surveillance screen.

In front of the Lamborghini, there were dozens of cars.

It was the BMW team sent by the president of the Owain Chamber of Commerce.

Even though it was a huge team composed of dozens of cars, they still seemed to be waiting for something.

…

In the video.

The cars and ambulances from the police station were all stopped outside the motorcade.

At this moment.

On the horizon, the sound of propellers could be heard.

Then, they saw a helicopter slowly lowering its alt.i.tude.

The huge motorcade started its engine.

Above the motorcade, the helicopter led the way.

It observed every intersection that might lead to an accident.

No one spoke at the conference table.

Victor held out his hand.

He habitually twirled a strand of hair on his forehead and pondered.

He summarized all the available metrics.

‘Is our headquarters able to set up an incident by chance and… kill this mister hiding in the car?’

After a while.

Victor put down his hair and looked up.

He looked at Sona and asked seriously what he was thinking.

“It’s very difficult.” Sona frowned, then shook her head. “The amount of data that require calculation, the aggregated information, and the eliminated variables is almost astronomical…

“Perhaps if we are sufficiently prepared, using our supercomputer, that might be possible,” Sona said hesitantly.

The supercomputer resource she was talking about was a supercomputer that was officially used to regulate the entire Mold Country.

Just like the Skynet in the movies and television series.

For a computer of this level, even in Mold Country which was known for its advanced technology, there only existed one of it on the surface.

Victor stopped talking.

Sona had nothing to say too.

The surveillance room returned to normal.

All that was left were pairs of sharp eyes that continued to look at the monitor screen.