American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 14 Debt Collection (Part 1)
“Speaking of the kind of secret agent you imagine, I actually know one,” Beta recalled. “The guy had the face of a comedian, a big, conspicuous nose, and was always unreliable. But he was incredibly lucky, always managing to complete his missions by sheer luck. We all called him ‘English.’”
-
Beta had been planning to collect the debt for a long time, but he had always lacked an opportunity to force Elliot to show up.

After much thought, he suddenly had an idea: what could be more likely to lure him out than the theft of Elliott Financial's server data?

Beta sat in front of the mirror, carefully giving herself a makeover.

He put on a fake beard, applied wrinkle patches, wrapped simulated fat around his limbs, and finally put on a bulging fake belly. To ensure everything was perfect, he stood on an electronic scale and stuffed lead weights into the weighted straps on his chest one by one until his weight was no different from that of a real fat person.

Then, he paced back and forth in front of the mirror, adjusting his posture until every step he took had the clumsiness and slowness characteristic of a fat man. Now, he looked exactly like a bloated middle-aged man.

Matilda stared at Beta's disguise, her eyes gleaming with eager anticipation: "Wow, that's amazing! Let me try it too, just once!"

Beta handed her the remaining materials, which were just some simple camouflage materials. This was just data theft, not a direct confrontation, and these camouflage materials would be enough to last for a while.

Matilda, imitating Beta, clumsily made herself a fake nose.

But she forgot to leave out her nostrils, which were completely pressed against her face, and her voice was muffled as she spoke: "Are you going out? Will you take me with you? I can use a gun; Leon taught me. I've even killed people."

Beta was taken aback, thinking she had misheard: "What did you say?"

Matilda pressed the fake nose on her face and emphasized in a muffled voice, "It's real."

Beta cleared his throat, his voice suddenly transforming into a deep, unfamiliar man's voice: "That Leon guy is really unreliable, actually taking you to do something like this?"

“He’s a drug dealer.” Matilda shrugged, her tone calm. “If we don’t deal with him, more people will suffer.”

Beta holstered the silenced 1911 and carefully concealed it under his clothes: "Your height is too conspicuous; people will remember you easily. No way."

Matilda grabbed his sleeve. "But I can help! Wouldn't it be easier to lower people's guard if we were going somewhere with a child?"

Beta was silent for a moment, then finally shook his head: "No, your physical characteristics are too obvious."

Matilda reluctantly let go, her voice tinged with resentment: "Just take me with you!"

Beta raised an eyebrow: "The entire British arms supply chain is under close surveillance by MI6 right now. I only have this one pistol. Can you handle a rifle? With your small frame?"

“I can do it!” Matilda straightened her back.

Beta chuckled. "If you could control those little facial expressions when you lie, I might actually believe you."

Matilda continued, "I can even help you trick the guards or the gate. There aren't many people in this world who would be wary of a child, are there?"

Beta suddenly stopped and turned to look at the eleven-year-old girl: "Come sit down, let me change your face first."
-
Kangcaisi Financial Building.

This modern fortress, constructed with glass curtain walls, is the "masterpiece" of Elliot, the son of the Chief Superintendent.

He cleverly used his father's power and connections to gather a group of sons of officials and wealthy young men, turning the building into a financial playground for the privileged.

Within this financial empire, tens of millions of pounds flow beneath the surface daily. These illicit funds are laundered through a few obscure, unpopular stocks, manipulated by artificial price fluctuations, and ultimately flow silently into the pockets of the powerful and wealthy.

Despite the UK's largely ineffective anti-corruption agencies, these interest groups involved in collusion between officials and businessmen still need to maintain a semblance of civility, meticulously planning each transaction. Meanwhile, a large amount of transaction data is stored on the building's servers—data that is Beta's target.

The London night was shrouded in thick fog, and the clock struck ten. In the lobby of the Concordia Financial Center, four security guards were intently watching the surveillance screens behind the circular reception desk—their only way to monitor the entire building.

Due to its illicit business nature, Elliott established strict security regulations: prohibiting any patrol personnel from entering the building. This glass palace harbored too many secrets that could not be revealed, and even the most loyal security personnel could inadvertently become leakers.

Therefore, all security work is concentrated in this brightly lit reception area, with dozens of surveillance cameras replacing the people who should be moving between floors. As long as these security personnel trigger a security alarm, given Elliott and his father's special status, the police can arrive within minutes.

Four security guards leaned lazily against the monitoring console, casually glancing at the screens while constantly making lewd jokes. They shamelessly commented on the female employees' figures, arguing about whose skirt was shorter and whose neckline was lower, completely neglecting their monitoring duties.

A slight vibration came from the glass of the building's main entrance, as if someone was cautiously pushing the door open. The four security guards immediately gripped their sidearms and turned around in unison.

A blonde girl, about seven or eight years old, was standing on tiptoe, her whole body almost pressed against the glass door. She was wearing a slightly oversized floral dress, and a section of her fair legs, splattered with mud, was visible beneath the hem. Several mud streaks were also smeared on her cheeks, which stood out conspicuously in the pale light.

The security guards exchanged glances. One of them tucked his pistol back into his belt and leaned over the glass door, saying, "Listen, kid, this isn't an amusement park. Go home!"

The little girl shrank back half a step, her voice barely audible: "I...I'm lost."

She pressed her small, red, frozen hands against the cold glass: "Could you let me in to warm up? Could I borrow your phone? Please?"

As she spoke, a few tiny water droplets clung to her blonde hair, glistening slightly under the light.

The security guard turned to his colleague and said in a low voice, "This little girl is frighteningly pale; she's probably frozen. Should we let her come in and warm up?"

Upon hearing this, another security guard approached the glass door and carefully examined the shivering little girl outside. Her thin body was trembling slightly, and her lips had turned purple from the cold.

He hesitated, glancing at his companions who had gathered around him. No one else objected; a lost little girl needed help, and they had no reason to refuse.

The security guard pulled a magnetic card from his pocket: "Come in, kid, we'll help you contact your family."

With a soft "beep", the glass door slowly slid open.

A blast of warm air rushed towards the little girl outside the door. A bullet, however, flew in along with the chill from the outside.

"puff!"

The security guard who had just swiped his card to open the door had a burst of blood between his eyebrows. He fell heavily backward and crashed onto the marble floor with a dull thud.

Before the second security guard could recover from the shock, he heard a voice from the darkness say, "Catch!"

He instinctively reached out and caught a can of cola flying through the air. Before this absurd action was even complete, a second bullet had already pierced his forehead with pinpoint accuracy. His body convulsed and he collapsed beside his companion.

At the edge of the light, a bulky figure emerged from the shadows. The man held a pistol horizontally with both hands. After two muffled thuds, the last two security guards collapsed to the ground, their blood slowly spreading on the clean floor.

　The contract has been officially signed. Please recommend and add this to your favorites.

(End of this chapter)