CONSPIRACIES UNVEILED

Ethan shook Rudeus, tapping his face urgently. "Rudeus, wake up! Come on, we don't have time!" He kept tapping and shaking him, his voice filled with desperation. "I knew this was a bad idea... wait, is he dead?" Panic surged through Ethan as he quickly checked for a pulse. He felt the reassuring throb under his fingers and sighed in relief. Ethan continued to shake him, more forcefully now, sitting on Rudeus's legs and slapping his cheeks lightly. "Come on, Rudeus, wake up! You've got to get up. You're the only one I can trust and who can help me. Please, wake up!"

Just as Ethan was about to attempt mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, Rudeus's eyes shot open, and he shouted, pushing Ethan off him. "Whoa, whoa! What the...?" Rudeus panted, looking around in bewilderment.

Ethan rubbed his head where he'd been pushed. "Thank God you're awake! What took you so long? Were you eating spaghetti in dreamland?"

Rudeus, still catching his breath, muttered, "Sorry, kid... I... wait, why did I faint? What's the time... oh yeah." He suddenly remembered. "You told me about... the secret... future... past... what I told you..."

Rudeus grabbed Ethan by the shoulders, his eyes wide. "Wait, is it really true? You're... really from the future??"

Ethan gently pried Rudeus's hands off. "Calm down, calm down. And yes, it's true. But now's not the time to discuss it. We need to save Mom. We have to act fast." Ethan's voice was steady, determined.

Rudeus nodded, taking a deep breath. "You're right, kid. After we save your mom, you'll tell me everything." He stood up, picked his driver's hat from the floor, and adjusted it on his head. "Now, we need to save your mom."

Ethan, touched by Rudeus's resolve, nodded. "Yeah, let's do this."

Ethan dialed his dad's number on Rudeus's phone. Meanwhile, at home, Dick and his grandma were discussing Clara's trip. Hearing his phone ring, Dick went to check it, seeing Rudeus's name on the screen. "Rudeus? Why's he calling now?"

"Who is it?" his grandma asked.

"It's Rudeus," Dick replied, answering the call. He was immediately met with Ethan's frantic voice.

"Dad, can you hear me?"

"Whoa, whoa, Ethan, calm down. Why are you shouting? And why aren't you home? You said you'd be back. What's the problem? And where's Rudeus?"

"Dad, I need you to listen to me. Don't ask any questions, just listen to everything I have to say," Ethan pleaded.

"Okay, what's wrong?" Dick's concern grew.

"Look through the front door's peephole. You'll see a black car, maybe two or three."

Dick did as instructed and saw the cars. "Yeah, I see them. Are we expecting any visitors?"

Rudeus, overhearing, thought to himself, "Wow, how did Ethan know they'd be there already?"

Ethan continued, "Dad, don't open the door. Do not open it, no matter what."

Seeing men with guns exit the cars, Dick's worry intensified. "Oh no, gunmen? What's happening?" He heard his mother's voice in the background. "Is Grandma there?"

"Yes, she is. And why are there gunmen outside our house? I need to call the police. Don't worry, Ethan, I'm going to handle it," Dick said.

"No, no! Listen to me. Don't call the police just yet. I need you to get Grandma and go through the back door. Use the other car and drive out through the back gate. Go to the society station and ask for Jacob. He's a good friend of mine. Tell him to take as many squads as possible to Atlas International Airport. There's a bomb on one of the planes. Just get him there and stay safe. I'll handle the rest."

"A bomb? Atlas Airport? Isn't that where Clara's headed? What are you talking about, Ethan? I need you to explain everything now!" Dick demanded.

"There's no time to explain. Just do what I said. Bye, I love you." Ethan ended the call before Dick could respond.

Frustrated, Dick looked at his phone. "Why did he hang up?" He turned to his mother. "We need to go, now. Just come with me, Grandma."

They followed Ethan's instructions, exiting through the back gate without the hitmen noticing. One of the hitmen knocked on the front door. "Hello, Mr. Dick, please come out. We don't want to hurt you. We're here for official work."

The other hitman scoffed. "Official work? You can't even come up with a better lie. Just kick the door in."

They stormed into the house, finding it empty. "Darn it! They used the back gate," one of them reported to their leader.

"How did they know we were coming?" the leader fumed, kicking a nearby table in frustration.

Back at the other house, Ethan said, "Now we've taken care of Dad's situation. I know they'll be safe."

Rudeus nodded. "What now?"

Ethan's eyes narrowed with determination. "Now, we turn the tables around."

Meanwhile, Mrs. Thompson paced nervously in her lavish office, her fingers drumming anxiously on the polished mahogany desk. The room was dimly lit, a single lamp casting long shadows against the walls adorned with expensive artwork. Her accomplice, James, a lean man with a hawk-like face and cold, calculating eyes, stood by the window, peering out into the night.

The door creaked open, and a man in a white suit stepped in, carrying a sleek, black briefcase. His presence exuded an air of authority and menace. Mrs. Thompson glanced up, her eyes narrowing. "What news do you bring?" she asked sharply.

The man in the white suit, known only as Mr. White, placed the briefcase on the desk and opened it, revealing a series of maps and blueprints. "The hitmen failed to capture Dick and his mother," he stated, his voice emotionless. "They escaped through the back gate. However, our men have confirmed that the house is empty."

Mrs. Thompson clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. "Incompetent fools," she hissed. "And Ethan? What about him?"

Mr. White shook his head. "He's still with Rudeus. They managed to evade our initial strike, but they won't get far."

James turned from the window, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. "So, what's the next step, Mr. White? You assured us this plan was foolproof."

Mr. White closed the briefcase with a snap, his eyes cold and calculating. "Our next move is crucial. We proceed to the airport as planned. I'll ensure there are no further mistakes."

Mrs. Thompson nodded, her expression hardening. "Very well. Make sure it's done. Clara's plane must not leave the ground."

Mr. White inclined his head slightly, a gesture of both acknowledgment and deference. "It will be done." He turned and exited the room, his white suit almost glowing in the dim light.

As the door closed behind him, Mrs. Thompson let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "We can't afford any more errors. Everything hinges on tonight."

James stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Relax. Mr. White is the best in the business. He won't fail us."

Mrs. Thompson nodded, trying to calm her racing heart. "He better not. Our entire future depends on this."

The two exchanged a glance, a mixture of fear and resolve passing between them. The night was far from over, and the stakes had never been higher.