American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 167 A Person's Name

Inside the conference room, the smoke remained still in the sunlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Mrs. Frank sat in a high-backed leather chair at the end of the long table, a slender menthol cigarette between her fingers, the filter tip bearing a faint red lip print.

Pale blue smoke swirled and rose in front of her, veiling her face, which had undergone multiple lifts and fillers, in a hazy mist. Under the overhead light, her overly cosmetically enhanced skin shone with an unnatural porcelain-like sheen.

The area behind her, where her entourage should have stood, was empty. All the members of the Frank family were barred from entering through the bronze doors of the Continental Hotel.

Eight bodyguards from the Antonio family stood solemnly around the conference room, all dressed in custom-made suits that accentuated their muscular physiques, their ties perfectly tied. They resembled a group of robots, with only the occasional movement of their eyes proving they were alive.

Mrs. Frank extended her finger, painted with dark red nail polish, and gently flicked the ash, letting it fall into the crystal ashtray.

The wooden door to the conference room opened, and Beta appeared in the doorway. Mrs. Frank immediately stubbed out her cigarette in the crystal ashtray, nodded slightly, and the diamond necklace around her neck swayed: "Mr. Wick."

Beta walked straight to the conference table and sat down, placing his hands on the table with his icy blue eyes fixed on Mrs. Frank.

Although Mrs. Frank was unaware of the situation, she maintained the composure of a long-established underworld family leader. She straightened her back to meet the scrutinizing gaze, her painted eyebrows remaining perfectly still.

A complete silence fell between the two of them.

In the vast conference room, only the antique Louis XIV clock on the wall kept track of time. Each swing of the gilded pendulum produced a crisp "click" from its delicate mechanism, clearly audible in the silence. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the heavy velvet curtains, casting a thin streak of light across the table.

After a long sixty seconds of silence, Beta slightly turned his head.

The bodyguard standing behind him immediately stepped forward and gently placed two items on the conference table: a deformed bullet sealed in a transparent evidence bag, and a high-resolution photograph of the killer's body.

“A .308 caliber sniper rifle.” Beta lightly pushed the evidence bag with his fingertips. “And a ghostly assassin with no record of identity. Firing at my yacht from the coastline.”

Beta leaned forward, placing his hands on the table: "Madam, is there anything you would like to add?"

Mrs. Frank's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly between the bullet and the photograph, a fleeting glimpse that Beta's sharp eyes caught precisely.

"You knew about this?" Beta asked.

Mrs. Frank immediately responded, "I have no idea."

Beta's questions came one after another, giving her no chance to think.

"Did you provide the gun?"

"No."

"Do you know this assassin?"

"do not know."

"Did you give the order?"

"No."

When Beta asked the last question, Mrs. Frank finally revealed her weakness.

“You’ve heard rumors, and you know who did it.”

“No.” Her denial remained firm, but the slight twitching in her eyes and the rapid breathing, in the face of a professional like Beta, were tantamount to a written confession. Beta slowly leaned back, the chair creaking softly: “Give me a name.”

Mrs. Frank insisted, "I really don't know who it is."

“Listen,” Beta interrupted her, his knuckles tapping dully on the solid wood table. “I don’t care if the name is real or fake. It could be someone you suspect, or even an enemy you want to use to kill someone, even if they have nothing to do with this.”

“What I need now is a sensational revenge operation.” He leaned forward: “Let the real mastermind watch me start my counterattack, make him hastily cover up, and make him flustered.”

"People make mistakes when they panic, and I'm best at finding the fox's tail in the fox's tail. So, my dear wife, just throw me a few names. Let's make this game a little more exciting."

Beta emphasized at the end, enunciating each word clearly: "Give me, the name, now."

Mrs. Frank hesitated for a moment before finally speaking: "Elton Webber, a CIA agent, he heads a secret group called the 'Shadow Squad.' One of his men, Jason Bourne, died in New York. I've dealt with him before; he once commissioned my people to find Jason Bourne's whereabouts."

Beta raised an eyebrow: "So?"

“His men have found some dubious leads and are investigating what Bourne left behind,” Mrs. Frank explained. “You and Jason Bourne clashed in the warehouse, leaving too many traces at the scene. Ever since Jaina revealed your identity, they’ve been looking for an opportunity to give you a warning.”

Beta nodded thoughtfully: "How do you know so much?"

Mrs. Frank said, "When you have enough eyes and ears in New York, there is nothing you don't know."

Beta squinted: "What are they looking for?"

Mrs. Frank gently shook her head: "I don't know."

Beta tapped his fingers lightly on the table: "So, the next question, where is this Elton Webber now?"

Mrs. Frank shook her head again: "I don't know."

Beta stood up: "I think our conversation ends here."

Mrs. Frank said, "I think so."
-
When Beta pushed open the door, the hinges made a slight creaking sound.

The room was dimly lit, with only a brass bedside lamp casting an amber glow. Katalia reclined on fluffy down pillows, the collar of her silk robe slightly open, revealing her collarbone. Her fingers were turning the pages of a Vogue magazine, the paper rustling softly as it passed through.

Hearing the noise, she raised her cat-like eyes: "How is it?"

Beta did not answer immediately.

He walked to the bedside, the mattress sinking slightly as he sat down. He reached out and pulled the magazine away, his fingertips tracing the smooth cover. Inside, a pair of models in leather jackets posed in suggestive positions, next to a bold headline: "Exploring the Wonderful World of SM with Your Partner."

He chuckled softly, "I didn't expect you to be interested in this?"

Catalia's fingernails scraped across the silk sheets, making a soft scratching sound. She reached for the magazine, flicked her wrist, and the pages arced through the air before landing with a "thud" on the carpet.

"Enough with the nonsense." She straightened up, the hem of her robe slipping down to reveal her smooth calves. "How did things go?"

Beta's fingers gently caressed her ankle, his fingertips leaving a cool touch on her delicate skin.

He frowned. "The situation is complicated. Although we have a name, it's hard to tell if it's real or fake. We can only hold back until Blue sends back confirmation."

(End of this chapter)