American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 55 Brewing
MI6, the British intelligence agency.

Medvedeva sat alone in her office, her fingers gently stroking the USB drive Doyle had handed her. The metal casing gleamed and dimmed under the light as she turned it.

This list was like a ticking time bomb, as evidenced by Doyle's all-or-nothing attitude. But what truly made her hesitate was whether she should even open it.

Her fingertips hovered above the USB flash drive interface, then slowly withdrew.

What if she saw names she shouldn't see inside? Those people involved might put her in an even more dangerous situation. Medvedeva took a deep breath, clutched the USB drive in her hand, and turned her gaze to the gloomy London sky outside the window.

"Ta-da!"

A short knock on the door interrupted Medvedeva's thoughts.

She put the USB drive into the drawer and said, "Please come in."

The deputy entered and gently placed a document on Medusa's desk: "Sir, there's a new development in the case of Elliott's assassination at the Forest Club. The missing money has been found in a black suitcase on the downstream riverbank by campers. The finders, thinking it was a body disposal site, immediately called the police."

"As for the mosquito control operation, the screening work remains stalled. Although we have conducted a large-scale investigation of people who were active in the relevant areas before and after the incident, we have not received any valuable leads or proactively reported information to date."

“Furthermore,” he continued, “the taxi abandoned by Beta after the assassination of the American businessman has been found. A full examination was conducted by the technical department, but unfortunately, no valid biometric information was extracted from the vehicle.”

Medvedeva took the document, her fingers quickly flipping through the pages, her eyes scanning the report line by line. For a moment, only the rustling of turning pages filled the office.

After a moment, she looked up: "The situation is quite clear now."

She glanced at the office door, and her deputy immediately understood, turning around to close the door tightly.

“According to reliable intelligence,” Medea lowered her voice, “the assassination of the American businessman by β was just a pretext. The real target was to assassinate the female reporter in public in Downing Street, which was a special request from the employer. As for why β wanted to kill Elliott? Because Elliott hadn’t paid the balance.”

"The reason Elliot didn't pay the final payment is because he wasn't the real employer at all; he was just a middleman pushed out. The real employer deliberately concealed the final payment and orchestrated a scheme to have β eliminate Elliot."

The deputy frowned, processing the intricate plot. He cautiously asked, "Sir, is your intelligence source reliable?"

Medvedeva's fingertips lightly traced the edge of the document. After a moment of silence, she spoke: "The source... is highly reliable."

The deputy, observing his superior's expression, cautiously pressed, "Should we report this to our superiors?"

Medvedeva did not answer immediately.

She lowered her gaze to the case file, her voice low and somber: "If this truth were to unleash a hurricane, and we happen to be standing in its eye, tell me, is upholding the truth more important, or preserving ourselves?"

After a long silence, the deputy finally said, "Sir, if this truth is destined to cause a storm, it's not something we can cover up. Hiding it now will only make it erupt more violently in the future, and then our situation will be even more dangerous."

A brief silence fell over the office, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock.

Medvedeva's gaze shifted from the documents to the leaden-gray clouds outside the window, where she could already see the impending downpour.

Medvedeva took a USB drive from the drawer, and as she stood up, the metal chair legs scraped sharply against the floor.

“Come with me to see the head steward.” She slipped the USB drive into her suit pocket. “This matter must be reported up the chain of command. The more high-ranking officials who know the inside story, the safer we are.” She paused, then lowered her voice and added, “Afterward, you’ll need to find a way to spread the news; the more people who know, the better.”

The deputy nodded knowingly: "Understood, sir."

As the two walked down the corridor, Medvedeva stopped. Her gaze settled on an interrogation room with a lit indicator light—a closed room specifically used for internal investigations.

“Who is being investigated?” she asked, frowning. “Procedure only allows that area to be used when an internal investigation is involved.”

The deputy followed her gaze: "It's the chimpanzee in charge of the 'Jackal Case.' The Internal Affairs Department is conducting a routine investigation on her."

"Bianca? What happened to that chimpanzee?"

"She claimed to have identified the Jackals' arms supplier and requested a field operation." The deputy's voice lowered involuntarily. "But the operation went awry, losing half of her team. Four members died on the spot, and the remaining five could not be saved."

"Half the manpower?" Medvedeva slowly turned her head and looked through the glass partition at the Bianca team's office area.

The once densely packed workstations are now largely empty. Not a single note or coffee cup remains on those cleared desks; they are so clean it's as if no one has ever used them. The harsh fluorescent lights illuminate the empty desks, casting faint shadows around each chair, and in a daze, one can almost see those familiar figures still sitting there, heads bowed, dealing with the never-ending internal work.

The heavy, soundproof door to the interrogation room was tightly closed, so the inside could not be seen.

Medvedeva withdrew her gaze and continued walking towards the chief steward's office. Her deputy followed closely behind her.
-

In the cramped room, LED lights cast a cold glow on the walls covered with sound-absorbing cotton.

Bianca sat in a metal folding chair, the disposable cup in front of her half-filled with lukewarm water that had stopped steaming, the surface reflecting the image of the overhead light tube.
Two Ministry of the Interior officials sat behind a long table opposite her.

The official on the left adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, while the official on the right adjusted the portable action camera, the camera's red light illuminated, and he pressed the switch on the recorder.

“I am Henrik Carlton, and this is Simon White.” Carlton’s voice sounded unusually muffled in the sound-absorbing room: “In accordance with standard procedure, we are conducting a routine review of the field operation you commanded that resulted in significant casualties.”

White slid a document to the center of the table: "The rules are as follows: We ask questions, you answer. No rebuttals, no counter-questions. You may add explanations to your answers, but you may not evade the questions."

He lifted his eyelids: "Is it clear now?"

Bianca gripped the disposable cup with both hands: "Understood."

The overhead vents emitted a faint hum, drawing her voice into the ventilation system.

White adjusted his glasses: "Please provide specific details about the source of intelligence regarding the weapons supplier codenamed 'Jackal' who was the perpetrator of the Munich shooting."

Bianca's fingertips gently traced the rim of the glass: "From my personal informant."

Carlton interjected: "Who authorized the operation?"

“The chief supervisor personally approved it.” Bianca raised her eyes, her gaze passing over the inspector’s shoulder and settling on the sound-absorbing cotton: “72 hours before the operation, I submitted a complete risk assessment report and contingency plan.”

(End of this chapter)