American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 27 New York
On the 25th, while MI6 agents in Britain were still futilely searching for mosquitoes in the forest in an attempt to extract DNA samples related to "β", Beta had already returned to New York, the city he called his hometown.

At the exit of New York International Airport, Beta was dressed in an understated outfit: a light blue custom-made shirt paired with well-tailored dress trousers, and handcrafted leather shoes that gleamed with a warm sheen. This casual ensemble exuded sophistication, perfectly embodying the image of an unassuming wealthy young man.

Standing next to him, Matilda maintained her distinctive personal style: sneakers, shorts with a T-shirt, a light jacket over them, and short socks neatly tucked into her ankles.

This stubborn girl refused to change her style of dress. Even though Beta bought her a whole new set of clothes, she insisted on this "easy-to-move-in" outfit. In her own words, this was the only way to be agile and to run and jump at any time.

Beta leaned against the railing, his gaze sweeping across the endless stream of cars in the pick-up area behind his sunglasses. The familiar black Ford Mustang, however, remained out of his sight.

Matilda idly rubbed the remaining bubble gum on the ground with the tip of her shoe, but accidentally let the sticky gum stick firmly to the sole. She wrinkled her nose and rubbed the sole against the metal railing back and forth until she scraped the stubborn gum off completely.

This restless girl is like an energetic cat; she just finished dealing with the problem of the shoe soles and is now fiddling with the stickers on her suitcase.

After finding the plastic luggage tag difficult to tear off, she stubbornly pinched and pried it with her fingernails, finally managing to create a small gap on the edge. Then, she eagerly grabbed the tear and ripped it off forcefully.

Beta was in a good mood watching Matilda's antics. Having a lively child around certainly added a lot of fun.

At that moment, a black Cadillac Escalade slowly came to a stop in front of them.

Beta recognized the car immediately; it was his own car that he had bought and kept in New York.

The car window rolled down silently, revealing a middle-aged man with a stern face in the driver's seat: a messy beard, long hair that reached his ears, and eyes that always looked tired.

John Wick, a name synonymous with legend at the Continental Hotel. "The Night Demon," "Baba Yaga"—these were the names that struck fear into the hearts of many. But at this moment, he was just an ordinary father who had recently lost his beloved wife.

Beta and John locked eyes.

Beta had so many questions. Was Helen still suffering from illness when she left? Did she leave him a single word? How did Helen get through all this time? Countless questions churned in his mind, but in the end, they all turned into a silent gaze.

After a long eye contact with Beta, John Wick slowly nodded, letting out a low "Yeah."

"Just a 'Yeah'?" Beta's voice was filled with disbelief. "You and I haven't seen each other for a whole year, and all you say when we meet again is this one word?"

Matilda stood on tiptoe, gripping the edge of the car window with both hands, and curiously looked at John Wick: "Hello, Mr. John."

Unlike his stiff demeanor when he spoke with Beta earlier, John's expression softened noticeably.

He leaned forward slightly and replied, "Hi, Matilda. Leon mentioned you to me."

Beta opened the trunk and put his and Matilda's luggage inside, then got into the passenger seat. Matilda climbed into the back, first curiously looking around at the luxurious interior, then soon pulled out her phone and started playing with it.

Not long after, Leon returned from the bathroom, opened the car door, got in, and nodded to John Wick.

The black Escalade smoothly entered the expressway, and a brief silence fell inside the cabin. Only the faint sound of Matilda's mobile phone video and the rustling of tires over the road mingled together.

Beta paused for a moment, then asked, "Did Helen leave me any messages?" John gripped the steering wheel: "A lot."

His voice was low and restrained: "In those final days, she spent almost every day with her DV camera, recording a lot of things she wanted to say."

Beta turned her head to look out the window: "A lot? Was it all left for me? There must have been quite a bit left for you too, right?"

John's gaze remained fixed on the road ahead: "Lots, you and I both have lots."

Beta took a few deep breaths to suppress the surging emotions in his chest, and his nostrils twitched rapidly.

"Was she suffering in her final days?" Beta asked softly.

John shook his head: "There was no pain. Out of humanitarian considerations, the doctor stopped restricting Helen's pain medication dosage. In fact, she was more energetic than before during that final period."

"Did you choose a tombstone she liked? She mentioned a long time ago that she wanted a sunflower one," Beta asked.

“I chose it,” John answered softly. “The white marble one. She said it’s the flower I gave her that will never fade.”

A barely audible sob rose from the carriage. Beta looked in the direction of the sound, but it wasn't Matilda. That child had no connection with Helen and naturally wouldn't shed tears over something like this.

It was Leon. He turned his face to the car window, his shoulders heaving silently, even his sobs were almost suppressed. This usually expressionless killer was now weeping for his sister Helen's death. It turns out that even the most ruthless person has a heart of flesh and blood; it's just that often, their actions mask their true feelings.

Beta handed him a tissue: "Out of three men, it's okay for one to break down, but the other two have to hold on. Cry, no one will laugh at you here."

Leon covered his face, tears streaming down his face. Matilda gently took his hand, offering silent comfort.

Beta watched this scene and said softly, "Actually, I wanted to cry too, but I could probably only manage a couple of tears. I'm grateful to Helen for taking care of me, and I miss her, but I just can't cry. What about you, John?"

He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I doubt you could either. We're both sick; loved ones pass away, and we can't even shed a single tear."

John did not answer.

The Escalade skillfully weaved through traffic, constantly overtaking other vehicles.

Suddenly, the first raindrop bloomed on the windshield, followed by a second, then a third, and in an instant, the whole world was submerged in the sound of rain. The wipers mechanically swung, from left to right and then from right to left, making a "clattering" sound, the friction of rubber against glass particularly clear in the silent car.

Beta's gaze was unfocused as she watched the rain meander across the glass, pushed aside by the wipers, then falling again, pushed aside, falling again.

The sorrow inside the car is immeasurable; perhaps true pain is not expressed in the sound of weeping.

(End of this chapter)