American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 93 Restart
Morning light streamed through the Gothic stained-glass windows, casting a soft, warm hue over Gianna's office.

When Beta entered, she saw her sitting elegantly in a leather armchair in the tea area, a white linen dress making her appear dignified and composed. Ashley sat quietly beside her, holding a cup of coffee, wisps of steam rising slowly in the morning light.

Since Beta's arrival, this former bodyguard has transformed into someone more like a member of the family's inner circle, taking on a role similar to an assistant, or even a role similar to Jaina's daughter-in-law.

Beta wore an indigo cotton shirt with the top two buttons casually undone and the cuffs neatly rolled up, revealing her well-defined forearms.

His footsteps broke the silence in the room. Jaina looked up from her documents, and Ashley followed suit. Their eyes met briefly in the air, then Ashley lowered her gaze and continued to gently stir her coffee, her movements almost silent.

Beta naturally sat down next to Gianna, his muscular frame taking up the remaining space on the two-seater sofa.

“It suits you very well.” Jaina put down the documents, gently lifted his cuff, her fingertips twirling the fine fabric, a hint of approving smile appearing in her icy blue eyes.

Beta adjusted her posture, her gaze sweeping across the empty office: "Where did John go?"

“Who knows?” Jaina placed the documents on the gilded coffee table, her tone nonchalant.

Beta looked at Ashley, who looked up and gently shook her head, indicating that she knew nothing about it either.

Jaina noticed their subtle interaction, but she didn't point it out.

Beta turned his gaze to Jaina: "How should we resolve the blood pact issue?"

Jaina picked up a document from the coffee table and handed it to Beta: "Take a look at this."

Beta took the document, and Gianna casually picked up an empty porcelain cup, poured him half a cup of black tea, and then added hot water.

Beta closed the file, his brow furrowing slightly: "Why?"

Jaina pushed the teacup toward Beta: "Because this can win us a seat, let the family members see your abilities, and more importantly..."

A sharp glint flashed in her icy blue eyes: "This will give us more leverage in getting rid of Santino."

Beta asked, puzzled, "You're the clan leader. Can't you declare Santino's blood pact invalid and then deal with him?"

“Darling,” Gianna said with the patience of an elder, “if it were that simple, the matter would have been resolved long ago. But have you considered how those High Table members who reached an agreement with Santino will react?”

She picked up her teacup and took a sip: "They can use this as an opportunity to make trouble, or even unite with other families to deal with the Antonio family."

Jaina gazed at Beta and said earnestly, "Ruling the underground families is far more complex than simply killing people. The High Table is a stage for exchanging favors, and we are not yet powerful enough to ignore them. Believe me, when we are powerful enough, we won't even need to lift a finger; people will come to us with Santino's head to claim credit."

"The most important thing right now is to build alliances and divide the enemy. Win over every member we can." Jaina's voice grew colder: "When we have enough people on our side, Santino will become a fat sheep on the chopping block."

Beta reopened the file.

"I thought I was seeing things," Beta murmured, pulling a photograph from the file to examine it closely.

“If I remember correctly,” he looked up, “this should be a US presidential candidate who is currently running for office?”

In the photo, an old man with a messy, cornrow-like hairstyle and a striking red nose is grinning at the camera. Gianna picks up a bone china teacup and takes a sip of black tea: "We just need to take one of his ears."

She set down her teacup, the bottom of which made a crisp clinking sound against the saucer: "That's how we win the support of the entire East Coast high table."

"One ear?" Beta asked, holding the photo.

"Of course. A disabled person can never ascend to the US presidential throne. What the Eastern High Table wants is for him to behave himself and continue to be an obedient senator, rather than jumping out to cause trouble and disrupt their carefully planned election strategy."

Beta flipped the photo over and looked at it twice: "When do we take action?"

Jaina looked past the teacup out the window: "Ten days from now."
-
"In 10 days."

Charlie's gaze fell on Medusa, his tone calm.

"Ten days later?" Medvedeva frowned slightly, her voice tinged with doubt. "Hasn't the intelligence already been confirmed? Why wait ten days to issue the international bounty?"

Charlie, his hands firmly in his trouser pockets, said calmly, "We've received new intelligence."

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting shadows on his face: "This intelligence suggests that Jackal and Beta may be two different people."

Medvedeva's gaze was fixed on Charlie, awaiting his next words.

“We need these 10 days to verify these new leads.” He walked slowly to the window: “The international bounty must be suspended until we determine whether to merge the identities of Jackal and Beta.”

"New intelligence? Where did it come from?" Medvedeva pressed.

Charlie looked her straight in the eye: "No comment."

After a moment's thought, Medvedeva understood the likely source of the French intelligence. For the French intelligence services to so confidently postpone issuing the order and even re-examine the intelligence provided by MI6, the source of this so-called "new lead" could only be one possibility: it came from within the British intelligence system.

Medvedeva leaned against the window.

Charlie stood by the window, tapping his fingertips lightly on the glass: "I must say, your plan was quite ingenious; it almost led us into a trap."

"If it weren't for that sudden intelligence, we would probably have already merged the identities of Jackal and Beta and issued a global arrest warrant by now."

Medea stared silently at Charlie.

"Let me guess." Charlie approached slowly, his voice tinged with amusement: "Is your intelligence department currently busy with internal strife?"

He raised his hand to stop Medvedeva's possible defense: "There's no need to deny it, the facts are there. If you were truly united, how could such core secrets have fallen into our hands?"

"Do you know? The intelligence we received was incredibly detailed. Complete case photos, professional forensic examination, detailed witness testimonies, and even your internal approval stamps. Every detail of the investigation, every step of the progress, was recorded clearly."

Charlie's tone held a hint of admiration: "Honestly, if it weren't for the traitor within your ranks, your perfect plan would have been flawless. We would have indeed done as you wished, merging the two identities and then launching a high-profile manhunt."

(End of this chapter)