American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 91 Dialogue
John silently picked up a napkin and slowly wiped the mixture of wine and sauce from his face. His gaze fell on Jaina, who was sobbing in Beta's arms, and he said, "Deal."

Beta froze: "What did you say?"

“I said deal. I really haven’t been a good father.” He gave Jaina one last look, then turned and walked toward the door. “I’m sorry, Saron.”

His figure eventually disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

Jaina buried her face in Beta's shoulder, her tears soaking his clothes.

As John's footsteps faded completely at the end of the corridor, her tear-reddened eyes slowly opened, and from an angle out of Beta's sight, a faint smile appeared on her lips.
-
Headquarters of MI6 (British Military Intelligence Bureau).

There was a gentle knock on the door to the supervisor's office. The supervisor put down his unlit cigarette and said in a deep voice, "Come in."

Bianca pushed open the door and entered, saluting: "Sir."

The supervisor nodded slightly, indicating that she should report directly.

Bianca took a deep breath: "Sir, I don't understand why the Jackal case and the Beta case are being merged and both being put under the responsibility of Mevarek."

The supervisor looked at the dark-skinned agent in front of him and felt a strange sense of helplessness.

He picked up the cigarette again, took out the kerosene lighter, lit it with a "snap," took a deep drag, and let the smoke swirl in his lungs before slowly exhaling.

“Smoking is harmful to your health.” The supervisor looked at Bianca, who was struggling to suppress her cough from the smoke, and a playful smile appeared on his lips. “But I’ve been smoking for decades and I can’t quit. Please sit down, don’t mind.”

Bianca sat down stiffly and insisted, "Sir, Jackal and Beta could not possibly be the same person! I am absolutely certain."

The supervisor said with great interest, "Oh? Tell me about it. The intelligence verified by the French side has confirmed that the two are the same person. What new findings do you have?"

Bianca straightened her back, her gaze resolute: "Sir, I have successfully located the supplier of weapons to the Jackals, and I can pinpoint their exact location. I hereby formally request permission to carry out another field mission."

The cigarette in the supervisor's hand paused in mid-air as he looked at his subordinate incredulously: "Are you applying for yet another field operation?"

His voice rose: "Bianca, do you remember how many elite troops we lost in the Belarus operation? Half a team! And to this day, those vacant positions haven't been filled!"

The cigarette was stubbed out hard in the ashtray.

The supervisor stood up, placing his hands on his desk: "Listen, this is MI6 Special Operations Division, not an army combat unit! I'm just a division chief, not a general who can replenish troops indefinitely!"

His knuckles tapped on the table: "What did you bring back from the last operation? Besides the bodies of your fallen comrades, what else?"

The supervisor's eyes sharpened: "Tell me, how many top agents are you prepared to sacrifice this time? For a target that may not even exist?"

He lowered his voice: "Sometimes I even suspect that you might be an undercover agent planted by hostile forces, using these suicidal actions to wear down our field forces?"

Bianca straightened her back and met her supervisor's gaze without flinching: "I am absolutely confident that we can capture the Jackal's arms supplier in this operation, and the next step will be to capture the Jackal himself."

The supervisor slowly sat back in his leather chair: "Speaking of confidence, what about that suitcase you brought back last time, the one with the sniper rifle?"

He squinted: "I heard that the entire gun can be disassembled and hidden in a box. Such ingenious equipment, why didn't you invite me, the head of the Special Operations Division, to see it?"

Bianca was speechless for a moment.

The supervisor slowly took a cigarette from the pack and toyed with it between his fingers: "As your direct superior, after obtaining crucial intelligence, your first action was not to report to me, but instead" He sneered, "to run off to meet with other department heads in the conference room and study how to assemble that gun."

The cigarette was lit, and wisps of smoke rose into the air.

The supervisor stared at Bianca through the smoke: "Now that I need to approve fieldwork, and other agents need to risk their lives to earn credit for you, you suddenly remember I'm your superior? Is this how you treat your superior as a subordinate?"

Bianca stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the carpet.

The manager remained unmoved, exhaling a smoke ring: "In Britain, we value mutual respect."

He feigned sudden realization: "Ah, I almost forgot, your absent father and distant mother certainly didn't teach you this."

Bianca stared intently at her supervisor, her eyes burning with suppressed rage.

The supervisor casually flicked his cigarette ash: "Now, get out. Close the door behind you."

The air between them froze for a few seconds.

Finally, Bianca turned abruptly, deliberately leaving the office door wide open, and disappeared down the corridor without looking back.

The supervisor watched the dark-skinned chimpanzee's angry departure and the open office door. He took a deep drag on his cigarette, exhaling a meaningful snort through his nostrils, the smoke rings slowly dissipating in the sunlight.
-
The supervisor took an encrypted phone from the drawer and skillfully dialed a number.

After the call connected, a deep male voice asked, "Who is this?"

"It's me." The supervisor lowered his voice. "Bianca has found out about the Jackals' arms dealers and located them. Our informant in the upper echelons gave me the address. I suggest you send someone to take care of that supplier as soon as possible, and teach the Jackals a lesson for not being so unprofessional."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone: "Okay."

The supervisor flicked his cigarette ash: "What should we do with that idiot Doyle? Do you need me to arrange some manpower?"

"No need." The other person's tone was icy: "He must die by 'suicide' after losing a political struggle. Is a replacement ready?"

The supervisor pondered, "Isn't a 38-year-old female chief superintendent too young?"

"really."

"What if she could solve the assassinations in Munich and Downing Street?"

The person on the other end of the phone suddenly became alert: "You're going to sacrifice the jackals?"

“It’s not a sacrifice.” The supervisor exhaled a smoke ring: “It’s just that he’ll take on a few more cases, get ‘captured’ by my men, ‘resist arrest and die,’ and leave behind some solid evidence.”

The other party hesitated for a moment: "If it can really be done, we can consider promoting him exceptionally. Age is not a problem. Change it to 50, wear less makeup and stay up more late, who will notice?"

"It's settled then." The supervisor stubbed out his cigarette. "Tell the Jackals to get ready and make sure they clean up their mess. Speaking of which..."

His voice grew irritated. "How come that β has never shown any weakness? We still don't know who he is."

The person on the other end of the phone said, "Okay, I'll let him know."

(End of this chapter)