Hong Kong variety show: The mastermind behind the scenes is emerging.

Midnight.

10 Donning Street, Westminster, London.

This is the power center of the Japanese Empire. The famous white "10" number on the black Georgian gate looks particularly solemn under the dim gaslight.

The endless cold rain continued to fall from the sky, soaking the black trench coat of the guard on duty at the gate.

"squeak--"

A black Bentley sedan without any markings slowly came to a stop outside the police cordon.

Unlike usual, there was no tedious inspection. The iron gate slid open silently after the license plate was confirmed, and the car drove directly into the inner courtyard and stopped in front of the famous black gate.

The car door opened.

Susan, dressed in a black business suit, her blonde hair styled in an updo, exuding a cool and capable aura, stepped down. At this moment, she was no longer the High Table executive directing the gunfight, but rather more like a top lobbyist shuttling between Wall Street and the City of London.

Following behind her was a young male consultant who carried a briefcase, wore gold-rimmed glasses, and was taciturn.

"This way, ma'am."

A cabinet butler in a tuxedo had been waiting for some time. His face wore a professional, but utterly cold, smile. "The Prime Minister is waiting for you in his study. Please note, you only have thirty minutes."

"That's enough."

Susan nodded slightly, and in her high heels, stepped onto the red carpet that represented the pinnacle of power.

……

Second floor, the Prime Minister's study.

The decor here is heavy and oppressive. Dark oak wainscoting, walls covered with books, and a portrait of Churchill hanging above the fireplace all reveal the owner's ambition and aspirations.

The fire in the fireplace burned brightly, dispelling the chill of late autumn.

Margaret Thatcher, the woman who had just won great prestige in the Falklands War and was known as the "Iron Lady," was sitting behind a large desk.

She was wearing her signature blue suit, her hair was perfectly styled, and she held a cup of black tea in her hand. Her sharp eyes, peering through her glasses, scrutinized Susan as she walked in.

Although she was riding high at the time, only she knew that her life was not easy.

The domestic economy is in recession, unemployment is high, her reform policies are in a painful period, strikes are frequent in the Labour Party, and the opposition within the party is also stirring.

This is also why she chose to meet with this mysterious woman; she didn't want to push the black box onto the opposition.

"Good evening, Your Excellency the Prime Minister." Susan bowed slightly, her manners impeccable.

"Forget the pleasantries," the Iron Lady's voice was slightly hoarse, carrying an undeniable authority. "My time is precious. You said you're here to return 'state property'? Where is it?"

Susan was not intimidated by the other party's imposing manner. After all, she had been around Lu Chen and Sophia for a long time and had seen many powerful figures, so she was used to this level of intimidation.

"certainly."

Susan turned around, took the briefcase from the consultant, took out a sealed brown paper bag, and gently pushed it in front of the Iron Lady.

"This is the first gift, to show our sincerity."

The Iron Lady didn't open it herself, but glanced at her personal secretary beside her. The secretary put on gloves, carefully tore open the seal, pulled out several documents inside, quickly glanced through them, then her expression changed drastically, and she whispered a few words in the Iron Lady's ear.

The Iron Lady's pupils contracted slightly.

Those were original documents concerning several key members of the Windsor royal family setting up secret accounts overseas, using trust funds to evade taxes, and being involved in certain "dishonorable" scandals.

If these things were exposed, it would be enough to trigger a constitutional crisis and even shake the foundation of the British royal family.

"What do you want?" The Iron Lady closed the file, her fingers lightly tapping the table. "Extorting the government? I must remind you, in Japan, that's treason."

No, you've misunderstood.

Susan sat down gracefully, a polite smile on her face. "We are legitimate businesspeople. We are not interested in extortion; what we are interested in is—friendship."

"Friendship?" The Iron Lady sneered. "With a bunch of thieves and petty thieves?"

"To have a group of allies who can help you solve your problems."

Susan then took out a second document, which was much thicker than the first one.

"I know the predicament you are facing right now. The Labour Party's union leaders are planning a new round of major strikes in an attempt to paralyze the country's coal supply in order to force you to step down."

Susan pushed the document over. "This document contains evidence of several key leaders of the coal miners' union receiving political donations from the Soviet Union, as well as detailed accounts of their misappropriation of union pension funds for gambling."

"With this, you can not only crush the strike, but also send those annoying opponents to jail and completely destroy the reputation of the Labour Party."

The Iron Lady's breathing became noticeably more rapid.

For a politician, royal scandals are just trouble, but dirt on political enemies is a deadly weapon! It's the nuclear bomb she's always dreamed of!

"Continue." The Iron Lady's tone softened somewhat, but a hint of inquiry appeared in her eyes.

“Third,” Susan held up three fingers, “we know you are pursuing neoliberal economic policies and want to privatize those bloated, inefficient state-owned enterprises, such as BT and British Airways… But this is difficult because the national treasury is empty and there is a lack of strong buyers.”

“The High Table Group is willing to set an example,” Susan said confidently. “We have ample funds and are willing to acquire any state-owned assets you wish to sell, helping the government recoup funds and alleviate the fiscal deficit. Moreover, we guarantee that we will only do business and will not interfere in politics.”

Using damaging information to attack political enemies and providing financial support for reforms—this combination of tactics would tempt even the Iron Lady.

"That sounds tempting," the Iron Lady said, setting down her teacup and leaning back in her chair. "But there's no such thing as a free lunch. You've given me so much; what do you want in return?"

“We don’t ask for much,” Susan said, looking directly into the Iron Lady’s eyes. “First, the High Table Group’s legal operating rights in the UK. We need a little ‘favor’ and ‘acquiescence’ from the government in certain regulatory areas. We don’t want MI5 or Scotland Yard watching our business every day.”

"Secondly," Susan took an exquisite letter of appointment from her bag and placed it on the table, "we've heard that your son, Mr. Mark Thatcher, hasn't been doing so well in the business world lately and seems to be looking for new opportunities."

This was actually to save face for the Iron Lady. All of Britain knew that her son Mark was a good-for-nothing playboy who caused trouble everywhere by taking advantage of his mother's power, and even got lost and disappeared during a desert rally, making her lose face.

"The High Table Group has just established the 'European Strategic Advisory Committee'," Susan said with a smile. "We sincerely invite Mr. Mark to serve as the chief advisor. He doesn't need to clock in every day; he only needs to attend a few cocktail parties occasionally."

"The annual salary is... one million pounds."

"Plus a 2% dividend on dry shares."

A deathly silence fell over the study.

Only the firewood in the fireplace made a crackling sound.

This is blatant bribery.

But it is legal; it is a transfer of benefits disguised as "commercial employment."

It was a pledge of allegiance that bound both sides to the same boat.

If the Iron Lady agrees, then the High Table Group will become her son's "owner." For her son's future and financial prospects, she must also protect the High Table Group.

The Iron Lady stared at the employment contract with a complex expression.

As a mother, she doted on her good-for-nothing son. As prime minister, she needed a stable position and financial support.

Reason told her that this was a deal with the devil.

But reality told her that she couldn't refuse the price offered by this devil.

a long time.

"Mark has indeed become very interested in international trade recently," the Iron Lady said slowly, her voice so calm it betrayed no emotion. "Young man, it's good for you to get more experience. I believe he will be able to handle this position."

This means you agree.

Susan's smile deepened.

"A wise choice, Your Excellency the Prime Minister," Susan stood up, leaving the briefcase containing the core components of the "black box" on the table. "Well then, it's a pleasure doing business with you."

"The High Table Group will be your most loyal friend."

……

Ten minutes later.

The Rolls-Royce drove away from Downing Street.

In her study, the Iron Lady looked at the documents on the table that were enough to change the current political landscape, as well as her son's employment contract, and let out a long sigh.

"Come out, M."

The Iron Lady spoke softly to a corner of the bookshelf.

"Click".

The seemingly ordinary bookshelf suddenly rotated inward, revealing a hidden door.

An elderly woman with gray hair and a serious expression, wearing a gray cardigan, came out.

Her name is Olivia Mansfield, codename "M," the head of MI6, James Bond's superior, and also the Iron Lady's close friend from her time at Eton College.

"What do you think?" the Iron Lady asked.

M walked to the table, picked up the document containing damaging information about the Labour Party, and flipped through it, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes.

"Very professional," M commented. "This is something more than just corporate espionage can do. That Susan, although the files show she's a former CIA agent, the power behind her... that so-called 'High Table Group,' is not simple."

"I know," the Iron Lady stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the dark night outside. "The fact that they were able to infiltrate Standard Chartered Bank in such a short time and obtain so many secrets shows that their reach has extended very far."

"Then why did you agree to their terms?" M frowned. "It's too dangerous to involve Mark."

"I have no choice," the Iron Lady turned around, her eyes flashing with a cold light. "You've seen it all: strikes, deficits, opposition... If I'm to achieve my ambitions, I need allies, even allies from hell."

"And..." The Iron Lady's lips curled into a confident and domineering smile, "As long as they are in England, as long as they do business under my nose, I have the opportunity to control them."

"M, I need you to do something."

"Find out the details of this High Table Group. Especially the real boss behind Susan. Our current intelligence network only shows that they are the largest underground force in Italy, with members including the Lubers family and the Mafia, but that's not enough. I need to know the name, preferences, and weaknesses of the real mastermind."

The Iron Lady clenched her fist as if she were grasping the scepter of the British Empire.

"I can use them temporarily and give them a little treat, but there can only be one king in this land."

"Either take control of it."

"Either...destroy it."

"Yes, Prime Minister!" M nodded, a cold glint in his eyes. "Understood. Codename 'Ghost Hunter,' I will initiate the highest-level investigation."

Outside the window, the rain was getting heavier.

In the darkness of London, a covert battle over power, control, and counter-control is just beginning.

Lu Chen wants to be the king of the underground world where the sun never sets, while the Iron Lady wants to be the one holding the rope.

Who will kill the deer is unknown.