Chapter 907 The taxi Brian called
"Even if this plot is written into a novel, readers will spurn it as too cliché." Jack complained.
He took the "Viper" handed to him by Brian, checked it again, and stuffed it into the ankle holster. After lowering his trouser legs, he jumped in place for a while, and was relieved to confirm that there was nothing unusual.
Jack and Brian each had a "Viper", which was all they could rely on for their actions in France. To put it nicely, they were now illegal immigrants. If their true identities were found out, they might be treated as spies.
Cassel would probably be better. After all, he was a public figure, and his book was translated into French. At most, he would be deported.
"Gentlemen, I have been ordered to take you away." A major appeared at the door and looked at the three people with a serious expression.
——
"Thank you."
After being dropped off on a remote road, Jack shook hands with the unknown major to express his gratitude, watched the Renault truck turn around and leave, and then turned to look at Brian.
The connections he could use could only get them here. Now the three of them were nearly 200 kilometers away from Paris. It was up to him to do it next.
"We should be there soon." Brian raised his hand to check the time, with a rare lack of confidence in his tone.
As he spoke, a buzzing sound was heard in the distance, similar to the dull engine sound often heard on the F1 racing track. Accompanied by billowing smoke and dust, a white Peugeot 407 slowly slowed down and drove towards the three people, with a small TAXI sign on the roof.
"Jack, the FBI can get a military transport plane, and you, a former CIA agent, just called a taxi for us?" Cassel was surprised and looked a little contemptuous.
Brian looked helpless, "Jack said it's best not to alert the French authorities, so I contacted an old friend, and he assured me that this is the fastest way for us to get to Paris."
"Gentlemen, are you going to Paris for tourism? There are not many tourists in Paris at this time. You are in a good time. The road will be relatively empty."
A shaved head poked out of the driver's window, with a warm smile.
Jack fell silent as he looked at this familiar face. If he remembered correctly, shouldn't this person appear on the streets of Marseille? And the time didn't seem to match.
The first part of a certain French racing movie was released before 2000. Looking at the protagonist Daniel, who was at most in his early 20s, he couldn't help but feel a headache for the chaotic timeline of this world.
"What are you waiting for? We don't have much time." Cassel couldn't wait to open the passenger door and wanted to get in, but was stopped by Jack.
"Uh, you'd better sit in the back." Jack didn't have to enjoy a seat for one person, he was just kind.
The "Taxi Express" series became worse and worse, and he didn't finish watching it all, but he remembered that the only person who didn't vomit in this car was Stallone, and even he was sitting in the back seat at that time.
"Are you all American tourists?" Hearing that they were talking in English, Daniel asked enthusiastically in English with a poor accent.
"Yes, we are in a hurry. Please take us to Paris as quickly as you can." Cassel handed over a stack of US dollars as soon as he got in the car.
"Uh" Jack, who had just closed the passenger door, slapped his face.
"Please fasten your seat belts, gentlemen." Daniel held a thick stack of US dollars with his eyes shining. He stretched out his hand and pulled the bottom of the dashboard, revealing a dense network of switches and buttons.
Jack sighed and resigned himself to fastening his seat belt. To be honest, he still prefers the feeling of holding the steering wheel in his hands when racing.
As Daniel flipped the switch, four pneumatic jacks slowly lifted the car body, and the large-size wheels automatically extended to both sides. The front of the car was deformed into a modified bumper with a guide groove, and the rear wing extended from the rear luggage compartment.
"What's the noise?" Cassel was startled by a series of mechanical sounds, and looked around nervously, wanting to know what happened.
"Don't you want to listen to some music?" Seeing that someone had taken out a racing steering wheel from under the seat and replaced the original one, Jack thought that since he had already encountered it, he might as well just make the atmosphere full.
Accompanied by a brisk guitar fingering, the taxi engine burst out a dull sound wave that should not belong to the Peugeot 407. Almost at the moment of starting, the heads of the four people in the car were pressed firmly on the headrests of the seats by the huge push back force.
In Jack's memory of his previous life, the song "Pump It" by the Black Eyed Peas was a racing song that was as magical as the opening songs of "Catching Shrimp" and "Knight Rider". No matter which of these three songs he heard, he would always automatically imagine the roar of the racing engine and the squeaking sound of the tires rubbing against the ground.
"In fact, we are not that anxious. There is no need to lose your driver's license for speeding." Cassel raised his hand to cover his eyes, trying not to let himself look at the scenery passing by quickly outside the window.
He dared to swear that the one who was hung upside down on the roadside just now was definitely the speedometer of the French police.
"Don't worry, I don't have a driver's license." Daniel smiled brightly.
Cassel didn't know he was joking. Hearing this, his heart finally died. He grabbed the handrail with one hand and held his seat belt tightly with the other hand.
Daniel was still teasing him deliberately, "Don't worry, sir, we haven't got on the highway yet. I can shift to second gear when we get on the highway."
At this time, a railway line stretched far out on the roadside, and a "Eurostar" was running at high speed on the track.
Cassel, who was secretly looking out of the window through his fingers, looked at the train that seemed to be slowly moving backwards in disbelief, and then looked at the direction the taxi was going.
"Wait, is that a bullet train?"
"Yes, that's right, this train is beautiful, right? It's very fast when turning, but it's a little slower when going straight."
Listening to this outrageous speech, Cassel trembled and made a cross in front of him.
Jack also raced, but usually he just knocked the criminals to a stop. He usually drove well. This kind of racing experience of maintaining high speed for nearly 200 kilometers was also the first time. It turned out that you have to go out often to gain more experience.
"44 minutes and 35 seconds, I wish you a good time in Paris!" Two long brake marks were pulled out, and two vomit bags popped out automatically on the back of the back seat in front of the back seat.
"Ugh" Military transport planes obviously don't provide in-flight meals. Cassel had nothing to vomit, so he vomited several times.
Daniel frantically took out a plastic bag and wanted to hand it to Jack in the co-pilot, but he was met with a smile, "Good skills, let's exchange ideas when we have a chance."
He looked back in confusion and found that Brian didn't seem to react either. It wasn't until he saw Cassel's look that he smiled with satisfaction and praised him seriously again.
"You two are really amazing. Generally speaking, every time I stop the car, no passenger can hold back."