American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 13 Agent
Matilda stuffed the Paddington Bear into her backpack and continued eating her cold drink: "I'll keep it safe."

She tilted her head and looked Beta up and down: "Is something bothering you?"

Beta turned to Matilda: "Oh?"

He paused for a moment, then said, "If there's anything that's bothering me, there is. A client is trying to renege on the final payment he owes me. This makes me very unhappy, but it's okay, I'll get the money back. Although the debt collection process might be a little unseemly, I think he can handle it."

Matilda narrowed her eyes suspiciously, pointing at the television in the ice cream shop: "You're not talking about that customer, are you? He looks kind of dead, isn't he?"

Beta turned to look at the television.

On the news channel, the female anchor was solemnly reporting: "Regarding the assassination of the German presidential candidate in Munich, the investigation has not yet made substantial progress."

Beta slowly turned her gaze back: "This gentleman was so careless, it's truly a pity."

Matilda called him out on it: "You're such a fake. You did it, didn't you?"

Beta shook her head slightly and tapped her plate with her fork: "Focus on your food and mind your own business, Matilda."

Matilda made a few cuts with her knife and fork, then impatiently put down the knife, picked up the whole steak with her fork, and took a big bite.

Beta gently sliced ​​the steak, slowly and methodically cutting the meat into even small pieces before putting them into her mouth one by one.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Matilda asked, her mouth full of steak, "Or are you already married?"

Beta looked up at her: "Do you think Leon will have a girlfriend? Will he get married?"

Matilda rested her chin on her hand and thought for a moment: "Probably. Although he seems cold, he is actually a very gentle person."

"Is that so?" Beta raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Of course,” Matilda said seriously, “just like how he took me in even though he knew there was danger.”

Beta looked interested: "That sounds like an interesting story. Would you mind sharing it?"

Matilda immediately straightened her face: "I mind, I mind very much."

Beta and Matilda continued their struggle with the aging steak on their plates, the tough texture making each chew feel like pushing the limits of rubber.

Matilda suddenly broke the silence: "Are your parents good to you?"

Beta's knife and fork paused briefly in mid-air: "I rarely see my mother. As for my father... he's alright. Although we don't keep in touch much, he's incredibly resilient, so there's basically no need to worry about him getting into any trouble. Even if he gets injured, he just needs a couple of stitches and he's back to his old self."

Matilda seemed to be using this question to bring up her own feelings. Staring at her plate, she murmured, "My mother loves me very much. But my father is a complete bastard. He often beats me, doesn't let me eat, and locks me out. My mother always protects me. It's common for me to get nosebleeds from his beatings."

Beta put down his cutlery and listened.

“Later he worked for the mob.” Matilda’s voice became hoarse: “I don’t know who he offended. That day a group of people broke into the house, killed my father, killed my mother, and killed my brother. Only I escaped because he slapped me and kicked me out to buy something.”

She raised her head, her eyes flashing with a stubborn light: "Later, Leon took me in, without any ulterior motive. He protected me."

Beta nodded slowly. "That certainly fits Leon's style. He's not a cold-blooded person at heart. He doesn't accept commissions from the elderly, women, or children, and he never implicates the innocent in his operations—these are the principles he adheres to." Matilda looked directly into Beta's eyes. "And you? Are you the same as him?"

Beta slowly shook his head: "We're different. I don't have any bottom line."

"Then why would Leon be your friend?" Matilda pressed. "Aren't assassins supposed to be loners?"

Beta spread his hands, making a helpless expression: "How would I know? You'll have to ask Leon himself. Heaven knows why he'd be friends with someone like me."

Matilda fell silent.

Beta looked at the girl, who had quieted down again, and finally added, "Perhaps it's because my stepmother, Helen, is his sister?"

"What?!" Matilda looked up abruptly, staring at Beta in disbelief. "So you're Leon's nephew?!"

Beta raised an eyebrow: "Surprised? If it weren't for this special relationship, do you think Leon would trust me this much?"
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The silver-grey Audi was stuck in London's congested traffic. Matilda, sitting in the passenger seat, still looked incredulous: "How could you possibly be Leon's nephew? You two don't look alike at all."

Beta held the steering wheel with one hand, glancing at the rearview mirror: "I'm not much influenced by my stepmother, so I'm not like Leon."

Matilda looked out the car window, straightened up, and pointed to the sidewalk: "That person is so strange."

Beta looked in the direction she was pointing and saw a man in an orange sweater standing blankly in the crowd, his eyes unfocused. How to describe him? Like a wolf that had lost its mind and wandered into a flock of sheep, he exuded a dangerous aura.

Even Matilda noticed something amiss at a glance, so the patrol officers on the street naturally wouldn't let it slip by. Soon, two police officers stopped the man and were checking his identification.

Just then, a red double-decker bus moved slowly with the traffic, temporarily blocking their view. However, after only seven or eight seconds, as the bus passed, Beta looked in that direction again.

Only two patrol officers remained on the sidewalk, huddled together and groaning in pain, while the man in the orange sweater had vanished without a trace.

Beta chuckled softly: "Heh."

Matilda's eyes widened: "He just vanished like that? And he attacked the police! Could he be one of them too?"

She lowered her voice: "Assassin?"

“No.” Beta shook his head: “More like a tool trained by a professional organization, a secret agent or something.”

"A secret agent?" Matilda's interest was piqued. "Like in the movies? Forging identities, carrying out secret missions, and killing on orders?"

Beta nodded slightly: "That's about right."

Matilda pressed further, "Have you ever encountered a real secret agent? I mean, assassins like us must deal with secret agents all the time, right?"

A mischievous glint flashed in Beta's eyes as he teased her, "Haven't we already met one? That MI6 female agent in the manor, 'Predator,' haven't you met her too?"

　Connecting the various stories without making it seem like a mere copy of the plot is quite difficult.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)