American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 83 Superior
Medvedeva sat at the table in her hotel room, carefully organizing the information she had obtained from the French security services over the past few days. After she reviewed and drafted these documents, they would form a complete investigation report, which she would then need to take back to headquarters.

The case materials provided by the French authorities detail the entire incident: the perpetrator, posing as a wealthy British man, approached and observed a security guard from a private security company under the pretext of hiring him. Then, on the day of the incident, the perpetrator impersonated the security guard, infiltrated the company's floor, engaged in a brief firefight with guards and other security personnel, and used a sniper rifle to assassinate the target. After the target was stabbed and other security personnel within the company were alerted, the perpetrator fled the scene.

As Medvedeva repeatedly reviewed the document, she noticed a significant omission: French media had reported that a second firefight had broken out inside the security company building after the assassination of the Indian businessman.

Strangely, the official document makes no mention of the second exchange of fire, as if it never happened.

Medvedeva frowned, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. The completeness of this document was clearly problematic; the French security services had deliberately withheld certain crucial information.

Medvedeva rubbed her tired face, leaned back in her chair, and looked out the window at the endless stream of pedestrians and vehicles below.

The long history of conflict between Britain and France has led the French to hold these British intelligence agents in a somewhat dismissive manner. They treat the professionals of MI6 with almost perfunctory indifference towards the general public.

Medvedeva visited the security company's site twice. The first time was an independent inspection, and the second time was "accompanied" by French personnel.

During her second investigation, she discovered that the distribution of bullet marks and the location of the bodies clearly indicated that the second firefight broke out from inside the police encirclement.

As a professional, she could deduce that after the initial evacuation, β, for some reason, disguised himself and returned to the scene, deceiving the police and French security personnel to infiltrate deeper. However, his disguise was eventually exposed, leading to the second firefight.

Medvedeva stood up, walked to the window, gently placed her fingers on the window frame, and scanned the street, mechanically counting the passing vehicles.

231 vehicles.

When she counted to the 231st vehicle, she suddenly sat up straight, a thought flashing through her mind: Why should β risk returning to the scene?

There is only one answer: he must take something with him.

The only thing that could make an experienced killer willing to take such a big risk is something bearing his own biological characteristics that was left at the scene.

In other words, β was most likely injured during the first firefight, leaving behind bloodstains, bullets, or other biological traces that could reveal his identity.

Medvedeva immediately grabbed her phone, ready to contact her supervisor and ask him to negotiate with the French side to request the sharing of β's biometric information.

Just as she was about to dial, the screen lit up first, displaying her supervisor's number.

She answered the phone: "Sir, this is Meva Lake."

The supervisor's voice came through the phone: "Are you the only person around here?"

Medvedeva looked around the empty hotel room: "I'm in the hotel, there's no one else here."

The supervisor said briefly, "Find a secluded spot and return the call."

"clear."

The call ended, and Medvedeva stared at the screen, her heart racing slightly. MI6… something must have happened.
—— Continental Hotel, New York
Leon has gone missing again. Beta and John's trip to Rome is about to begin, and Santino's situation is urgent and must be addressed as a priority.

The moment that blood pact was revealed, it meant that Santino had completely destroyed the last vestiges of decorum between himself and John. There was no room for negotiation, no room for maneuver; the only thing left to do was to face this confrontation head-on.

Under these circumstances, Beta and John had no choice but to temporarily entrust Matilda to Winston, the manager of the Continental Hotel in New York, and one of the few people John could completely trust.

Beta and John took the private elevator at the back of the hotel directly to the top floor.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing Winston's office door, which was already wide open, as if it had anticipated their arrival. Inside, cool-toned lighting illuminated the minimalist modern decor, while clean-lined furniture and understated metallic finishes exuded a restrained luxury—much like Winston himself: calm, precise, and always in control.

Winston looked up from behind his large desk, his reading glasses slipping slightly off his nose. He peered through the lenses at the three visitors who filed in: John Wick, his son Salon, and a little girl.

Winston's gray hair was meticulously combed into a traditional aristocratic style, a scarlet scarf was tied at the collar of his beige shirt, and a well-tailored black suit accentuated his tall and straight figure.

He slowly put down his pen, exuding an air of authority that had been honed over the years, like an old-fashioned nobleman receiving his subjects.

Winston's gaze slowly swept over the three men, a smile playing on his lips: "Jonathan, Saron, and this young lady—"

He deliberately dragged out the last syllable: "The combination of the three of you is quite unexpected."

The old man slowly closed the documents laid out in front of him, gently took off his reading glasses, and placed them on a velvet eyeglass cloth. With a soft creak from the leather chair, he calmly stood up.

“Winston.” John nodded slightly.

Beta nodded in response: "Winston."

Matilda greeted him proactively, saying, "Hello, Mr. Winston."

The old man strolled to the tea table and gestured invitingly: "Please sit down, you two, and our young lady."

John took his seat first on the leather sofa, with Beta sitting next to him, and Matilda sitting obediently close to Beta beside him, her hands on her knees.

Winston's movements were imbued with the ritualistic flair of a bartender. He unscrewed the amber gin, the bottle clinking crisply against the crystal glass. The liquid slid into four thick-bottomed crystal glasses, refracting a mesmerizing luster under the light, until they were about six-tenths full.

Then, a bottle of chilled sparkling water was taken out, with fine water droplets condensing on the glass. With a soft "hiss," the sparkling water was slowly poured into each glass, and the water level steadily rose to seven-tenths full.

Winston bent down and opened the small refrigerator under the table. Amidst the swirling cold steam, he used silver tongs to take out four perfectly round ice balls, which fell into the glass with a pleasant "tinkling" sound.

He then took out a slender metal stirring rod from the engraved silver storage box. The stirring rod made a crisp "ting-ting" sound when it touched the glass. Winston turned his wrist slightly, allowing the liquor and sparkling water to blend perfectly as the ice ball spun, and a fine layer of water droplets gradually condensed on the glass.
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(End of this chapter)