American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 185 Requires an Independent Armed Force
The Fabio family arrived faster than expected.

As Beta was chatting and enjoying wine with a few people in his office, his subordinate knocked on the door and came in to report: "Sir, the Fabio family has arrived."

Beta looked at everyone and said, "You all go to the conference room first, I'll be there shortly."

Fulton and the others got up and walked toward the conference room.

Beta then instructed his men, "Take the Fabio family directly to the conference room."

Beta waited calmly in her office for fifteen minutes, allowing the sunlight outside the floor-to-ceiling window to move a full finger's width across the carpet.

Only when the clock hand passed the mark Beta wanted did he slowly get up.

He pushed open the wooden door to the conference room.

Fulton and his group sat on the left side of the conference table, the ash from McCree's cigarette condensing into a cylinder between his fingers. Opposite them sat four representatives from the Fabio family, the silver-haired elder at the head of the group stroking a gilded pocket watch chain.

Sunlight streamed through Venetian blinds, creating a line of light and shadow on the long table, with the two sides separated by a conference table.

Only four members of Fabio's family came this time; the rest of the entourage were "politely" kept out of the downstairs reception room.

Beta calmly took his seat, glancing at the Fabio family representative: "Finally willing to show yourself? Willing to speak face-to-face with me, the future head of the Antonio family?"

The silver-haired old man was about to speak when Beta raised his hand to stop him: "Forget the formalities. Little Fabio is indeed with me. My request is very simple."

He raised his first finger: "First, please recognize this fact. The Antonio family are members of the High Table Council, not some street gang you can provoke at will. I could have gone much further this time. The reason I showed leniency was to teach you the most basic respect. Taking things to the extreme is the last resort."

The second finger then rose: "Secondly, the Antonio family has never failed to achieve anything they set their minds to. Aside from absurd things like taking Earthlings to Mars, I have plenty of ways to achieve my goals. I hope you'll show some respect."

The third finger is raised: "Third, bringing people into New York without my permission is a great disrespect. You can take Fabio with you, but the others you brought into New York will stay here."

After saying this, Beta got up and left the meeting room without giving the other party any time to respond.

He summoned his men and ordered, "Clean up all the people the Fabio family brought into New York. Tell the Frank family, damn it, to get moving! Losing one son doesn't mean all your sons are dead! What needs to be done must be done; sweep all of the Fabio family's influence out of New York."

The subordinate bowed and accepted the order: "Understood, sir."

Beta pushed open the office door. The sofa where Ashley usually sat was empty, and the chair that Katalia usually used was also empty. This unusual silence made him frown slightly.

He sat down at his desk.

As the heir to an underground dynasty, Beta has to study documents every day that are comparable to congressional archives, from dock smuggling records to financial accounts, every document is related to the family's lifeline.

It's not possible to manage the entire Antonio family simply by eliminating anyone you don't like.

After the grandfather clock's pendulum swung back and forth dozens of times, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The mute man pushed open the door and entered.

She sank into the sofa as if she were back home, the black leather pants creaking against the leather.

"Boss." She casually picked up a cherry from the crystal fruit plate. "The Fabio family has taken little Fabio away."

Beta stared at the mute man: "As your boss, shouldn't you give me more respect?"

The mute man nodded slightly: "Alright."

She stood up and walked to her desk: "They've taken them away. Do you need my help cleaning up the Fabio family's scum?"

Beta shook his head: "Paying you three times the pay to deal with a bunch of small fry is a waste of resources."

The mute man pursed his lips and sat down in the chair in front of the desk. "So what should I do? I can't just sit around doing nothing all day, can I?" Beta put down the file and pondered for a moment. "You do have a mission. Would you do the work of an assassin?"

The mute man nodded: "I am a professional. Of course, I am better at close combat, but I can't compare to your long-range sniping skills."

Beta said seriously, "I am not Beta, Beta is dead."

The mute man replied, "I understand."

Beta frowned: "What do you mean by 'remembered'? I didn't, so what? Is that so hard to understand?"

The mute man readily agreed: "Understood."

Beta tapped his fingertips lightly on the table: "I need a force completely independent of the Antonio family, a private army that can solve my problems. The family may seem peaceful now, but I can foresee what kind of storms will be stirred up when I officially take over."

He continued, “My grandmother controls a base that trains professional assassins, ostensibly a ballet theater. I can get enough manpower from her to build this force, but I lack a leader to command them.”

Beta stared at the mute man: "I think you're a good fit."

The mute man raised an eyebrow slightly: "Me? Are you sure? Isn't this equivalent to your royal guard? Like an organization like the Assassins?"

Beta's fingertips lightly traced the tabletop: "You're a very straightforward person; you're either after money or by gut feeling. But once I gain your approval, you're the most reliable person."

The mute man leaned back in his chair, his fingertips lightly tapping the armrest: "Am I? Okay, but it'll cost extra."

Beta raised an eyebrow slightly: "How much more?"

The mute man twirled a strand of hair around his fingertip and played with it: "There should at least be an annual salary, right? This is your Imperial Guard Commander, he should be worth at least several million a year to justify this risk."

Beta tapped lightly on the financial statement with his fingertips: "Monthly salary, 20."

The mute man held up his finger: "50, including special allowances and pensions."

Beta opened his palm upwards: "Deal."

Their hands clasped in the air; the mute's fingertips were slightly cool, while Beta's palms were warm.

The mute man released his grip: "When do I start working?"

Beta stood up and buttoned his suit jacket: "Come to the theater with me now."

Just then, the office door opened, and Ashley walked in: "Where are you going?"

She had just cut her hair short and put on flat shoes. Her beige casual outfit accentuated her waistline, and the paper bag from the private hospital she was carrying made a slight rustling sound. Her face showed the fatigue of having just finished a check-up, but she still kept her back straight.

Beta's gaze fell on the hospital bag in Ashley's hand: "What did the doctor say?"

Ashley gently placed the bag on the sofa: "I'll tell you tonight. Where are you going?"

Beta straightened his cuffs: "The Tarkovsky Ballet Theatre, go see Carolina. Now her son's son, her grandson, needs her help."

Ashley frowned slightly: "What kind of help?"

Beta looked directly into her eyes: "Our own power, completely independent of the Antonio family. It's for protecting me, you, and Catania."

"Oh, right." Beta turned to the side and gestured, "This is the mute, one of our own."

He then turned to the mute man and introduced him: "Ashley, my wife."

(End of this chapter)