American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 49 Visit
A few days before flying to Paris, Beta received a call from Mathilda. The little girl hesitated for a while on the other end before finally asking if Beta could accompany her to her new school.

"Leon is nowhere to be seen again?" Beta frowned and glanced at the wall clock. The sound of slippers clattering came from the other end of the phone. Apparently, that unreliable killer had once again left the 11-year-old girl alone in the apartment.

That afternoon, Beta packed all of Matilda's luggage into the Cadillac Escalade. The pink suitcase, the backpack full of stationery, and the potted plant she treasured were all placed in the trunk.

“Stay at my place for now,” he said to the girl. “John hasn’t been doing anything but watching videotapes lately.”

The arrival of this lively little girl brought life to the lifeless villa. John, who was usually lost in his memories, even got up early to prepare breakfast for her, and a long-lost smile appeared on his face.

At that moment, Matilda was wolfing down a slice of toast covered in strawberry jam.

Beta slung her backpack over her shoulder: "Get out of here in five minutes, and remember to tie your tie."

Breadcrumbs drifted down as Matilda skipped and hopped toward the garage. As the black SUV's door slammed shut, Beta glimpsed the girl frantically fiddling with her seatbelt in the rearview mirror, and a strange sense of relief washed over him.

The massive Cadillac Escalade slowly backed out of the garage, its tires making a soft rustling sound as they rolled over the cobblestone driveway.

In the early morning at this upscale residential community, many parents were already driving their children to school. A line of luxury cars stretched out in front of the community gate; Porsches, Land Rovers, and Bentleys gleamed opulently in the morning light. Security personnel in the guard booths respectfully watched these expensive vehicles depart.

The morning rush hour traffic was relatively smooth. Although the private school Leon chose for Mathilda was expensive, it was not a problem at all for an assassin.

The Escalade turned onto the tree-lined campus avenue, its rugged body standing out against the refined campus environment. Beta skillfully backed the full-size SUV into the parking space, the massive vehicle immediately filling the narrow space to capacity.

As he turned off the engine, he saw several children in identical school uniforms staring at the black behemoth. The car was so large that its shadow was enough to cover three or four children.

Matilda nimbly jumped off the car, and Beta casually draped her backpack over his shoulder.

The school uniform reflects the sophistication of elite education in every aspect.

The light blue Oxford shirt is made of high-count cotton, with a crisp Windsor collar embroidered with a subtle school badge, and the hem is neatly tucked into the waistband; the gray straight skirt is well-tailored, with the hem just a few centimeters above the knee; black stockings are paired with reflective loafers.

Compared to the faded T-shirts and ripped jeans of public schools, every detail here defines social class.

Matilda, the girl who witnessed the murder of her entire family, miraculously maintains her sunny personality. She is as lively as a tireless cat, so bold that she often causes headaches, and her bright eyes always sparkle with curiosity.

Perhaps it was because Leon reached out to her when she was about to fall into the abyss, or perhaps it was the warmth given to her by those around her, but this girl, who should have been consumed by hatred, was more cheerful and playful than many children from happy families, and was also better at getting along with others.

Just ten minutes after stepping into the school, Matilda successfully spotted her first "kindred spirit"—a girl with blonde pigtails, Mindy McCready. The two little girls stood together, looking like mirror images: both wearing neatly pressed school uniforms; despite being so small, their eyes shone with a cleverness beyond their years.

“Hello, I’m Mindy McCready.” The little girl extended her hand in a serious manner. “Are you Matilda’s father?”

Beta leaned down slightly and gently squeezed her fingertips: "I'm her uncle, it's nice to meet you."

Mindy flashed a sly smile just like Matilda's: "Thank you!"

She turned and winked at Matilda, and the two girls immediately huddled together, whispering like two sparrows exchanging information on a power line. Beta carried Matilda's pink backpack. This assassin, capable of taking down a target with a single shot from 3800 meters away, was now completely baffled by the two little girls' social interactions. They sometimes communicated with coded laughter, and sometimes exchanged knowing glances.

“We’ve arrived at the principal’s office!” Mindy said, turning around.

Beta looked at the gold-embossed "Headmaster" on the signboard and turned to thank Mindy.
-

Medvedeva nodded her thanks to Doyle's secretary, who was wearing a pencil skirt, and the secretary returned a professional smile before quietly leaving.

Inside the office, Doyle slumped in his chair, like a soulless shell. The dark circles under his eyes were even deeper than when they last met, and even his meticulously combed silver hair looked withered.

“Sit.” Doyle’s voice sounded forced.

Medvedeva locked the door behind her, the metallic click sounding particularly jarring in the quiet office.

She walked slowly to the visitor's chair facing the sunlight, and as she sat down, she noticed Doyle's fingers tapping on a USB drive.

Medvedeva tapped her fingertips lightly on her knee: "So? The new clue the Chief Superintendent mentioned on the phone is this USB drive?"

Doyle's thin fingers traced the metal casing, his fingertips repeatedly rubbing the edges, making a final decision. After a moment, he pushed the USB drive towards Medusa, making a soft scratch on the solid wood table.

“Found among Elliott’s belongings.” Doyle’s voice was like sandpaper scraping: “MI6 definitely needs this.”

Medvedeva did not extend her hand; her gaze was sharp: "What is your demand?"

"A blood debt must be paid in blood." Doyle slammed his hands on the table, making his pen jump. "Justice for my son!"

The office fell silent.

Medvedeva keenly sensed that this meeting was completely different from the previous businesslike atmosphere; this time, the chief superintendent's eyes held hatred.

She deliberately avoided the question about the USB drive, instead asking, "Are there any other clues?"

Doyle's Adam's apple bobbed.

He hesitated, wondering if handing over the list would trigger a storm. But then he realized. The important thing wasn't how deep Medvedeva could dig, but rather to let "those people" know that he, Doyle, had already handed the butcher's knife to MI6.

He doesn't need to lift a finger in this game. Once the fuse is lit, others will naturally fan the flames until certain people are completely driven off the table.

A glint of light flashed in Doyle's sunken eyes, and the dying wolf king bared his fangs.

"I have another list here, the people on it are related to the entire Downing Street shooting."

(End of this chapter)