American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 69 Progress
MI6 headquarters.

Medvedeva straightened her collar and gently knocked on the solid wood door of the supervisor's office.

A deep voice responded from inside the door: "Come in."

As she pushed open the door, thick smoke billowed out like a wave. The entire office seemed to be encased in a chimney, with visibility so low it was suffocating. Medvedeva squinted and noticed the air purifier in the corner running at full speed, futilely spewing out white smoke, clearly far exceeding its workload.

What's even more concerning is that several senior officials who should be in other jurisdictions were sitting in the office, but none of these faces appeared on today's meeting list.

Medvedeva suppressed the urge to cough and subtly surveyed the hastily formed inner circle.

The supervisor stubbed out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray, stood up, and opened the window behind him. A cool breeze from the Thames rushed in, working with the air purifier to disperse the thick smog inside. With the influx of fresh air, the overworked machine finally emitted a steady hum and began operating effectively again.

“Sorry, we got a little carried away with the discussion.” The supervisor tapped the window frame with his knuckles. “Close the door, Medvedeva.”

Medvedeva gently closed the door and bowed to everyone present: "Medvedeva Lake, head of the Special Operations Division of MI6, reporting for duty."

Several senior officials nodded slightly in greeting.

Medvedeva turned to her supervisor, lowering her voice slightly: "Sir, there is an emergency to report."

The manager leaned back in his leather seat: "What aspect?"

Medvedeva's gaze lingered briefly on the other officials before returning to her supervisor's face, as if she wanted to say something but hesitated.

“We’re all on the same side.” The supervisor waved his hand. “With your access privileges, everyone here has access to the same information.”

Medvedeva took a deep breath: "A long-range sniper assassination has just occurred in France, with a range of 4332 meters."

Her voice turned serious: "The modus operandi is highly similar to that of the Downing Street shooter, β. I request permission to lead a team to France for investigation, and I need your coordination authority for cross-border joint operations."

The supervisor exchanged meaningful glances with several officials: "Interesting. We haven't received any relevant briefings yet."

He picked up his water glass and took a sip: "We were just discussing other important matters."

The manager picked up the remote control on the table, and the LCD screen on the office wall lit up. He switched to the international news channel, where British media were rolling out breaking news.

"A major security incident occurred at Charles de Gaulle Airport, an international shipping hub, at 8:00 PM Paris time on the 25th."

As the news anchor delivered the report, the scene shifted to the chaotic scene at the airport. The manager put down the remote control, and everyone in the office focused their attention on the screen.

"Vikram Tivedi, founder of the well-known technology group Ventura, was shot and killed on the VIP helipad. GIGN's on-site investigation confirmed that the bullet originated from a sniper position 4332 meters away."

“This is a serious provocation against the French security system,” said Dupont, the French Interior Ministry’s anti-terrorism commissioner.

The manager swiveled his chair and looked at Medvedeva: "How many people do you need to bring?"

Medvedeva thought for a moment: "A group of eight."

The supervisor's gaze swept over the other officials present, and they all nodded in agreement.

He looked satisfied and turned to Medvedeva: "I'll give you international investigation authority within eight hours. Prepare a list of personnel and hand it over to me."

"Yes, sir!" Medvedeva saluted crisply.
-

Paris, France.

Catalia drove her unassuming Fiat Panda, carrying Beta, toward Charles de Gaulle Airport.

Beta's attire at this moment was perfect—that of an ordinary tourist returning home after finishing his trip to France. He deliberately took a few blurry tourist photos in front of the Eiffel Tower, making it impossible to discern the exact time, and then, like a sucker, bought two crudely made miniature Eiffel Tower keychains. As he passed by a street shop, he also grabbed a few postcards and stuffed them into his backpack, and finally, he didn't forget to secure his deliberately ripped fanny pack with a safety pin.

Now, anyone who sees this foreign tourist carrying a tattered bag and holding cheap souvenirs would believe that he is an ordinary traveler who has wandered around the Eiffel Tower and even "had the good fortune" to experience the "simple and honest" nature of Paris.

Katalia glanced at the deliberately damaged fanny pack in Beta's hand and raised an eyebrow, saying, "You even considered the detail of it being targeted by a thief?"

Beta tore the tear even wider, saying casually, "What kind of complete trip is it if you haven't been robbed in Paris? And you still have the nerve to post your travel photos on Instagram?"

“That makes sense.” Katalia nodded with a light laugh, then turned the steering wheel and drove onto the airport expressway.

In the rearview mirror, the lights of Paris are gradually fading into the distance.

Police cars sped past on the highway.

Several police cars with flashing lights passed by the Fiat Panda and sped towards the city center, with sirens blaring from behind as they eventually overtook it and drove away.

Catalia gripped the steering wheel: "You've really messed up this time. I never expected you to dare to engage the French security services in a direct confrontation. What was it all for? Were you discovered?"

Beta turned around with a blank look on her face and asked in a perfect American accent, "What are you talking about? I'm just an American tourist here."

He pointed to the DSLR camera on his chest: "Aren't you the new friend I met in Paris? What wanted criminal?"

Kataria gave Beta a deep look, a hint of admiration curving her lips: "Impressive. The highest level of deception is to deceive yourself first, right?"

She lightly pressed the accelerator: "If you can tell a lie so naturally, then the false becomes the true."

Beta said, "I don't understand what you're saying."

Katalia asked, "You're already getting into character? You're pretty good."

Beta sighed helplessly, "Can you please stop interrupting my performance? The scene at customs is crucial."

Catalia raised her hands dramatically, even deliberately letting the steering wheel slip out of control for a brief moment: "Alright, alright, great actor, keep building up your emotions."

Beta ignored her and pulled a brand-new travel guide from his backpack. He folded the pages repeatedly to create creases, rubbed the cover back and forth with the sole of his shoe, and finally crumpled it vigorously on the car seat. Only when the whole book looked like a worn-out old handbook did he nod in satisfaction.

“Now,” he muttered to himself, “this is more like a tourist who has done their research.”

Katalia glanced at Beta, who was focused on "aging" the travel brochure, and after a moment of silence, finally spoke: "Is your girlfriend... very pretty?"

Beta paused in his movements, then looked up at her: "Just as beautiful as you."

This answer clearly surprised Katalia. A smile unconsciously crept onto her lips as she softly said, "Thank you."

The streetlights outside the car window swept by one by one, casting flickering shadows between the two of them.

Catalia gripped the steering wheel, her voice softening slightly: "Behave yourself when you get back, and don't cause any more trouble this year. You've already caused enough of a stir."

"Are you worried about me?" Beta raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Katalia's reply was brief and firm, her gaze fixed on the approaching airport lights.

"Thank you."

(End of this chapter)