A Conversation

"New York is expected to receive 20 to 30 millimeters of precipitation today, and the municipal department has stated that drainage systems have been fully inspected."

Kerrad's radio was playing the weather forecast on its own.

Beta looked out through the rain-streaked car window. The crowd holding black umbrellas in the cemetery stood in silent procession, like dark plants silently growing from the rain-soaked earth.

The figures of John, Matilda, and Leon had already sunk into that solidified darkness.

Beta's Adam's apple bobbed, his jaw tightening. He pushed open the car door—the black umbrella "popped" as it tore through the rain curtain, his footsteps tapping on the waterlogged gravel road, finally merging into the low-hanging shadows.

The still-running Kerrad exhaled white mist in the downpour, the muffled thud of the closing door crushed by the waterfall-like sound of the rain.

The female voice on the radio continued to precisely report numbers. All the umbrella brims were pressed down heavily towards Helen's grave, like black petals suddenly closing on the earth.

The black, fungus-like formation of umbrellas swayed gently in the wind.

Mei Wa stood before a charred black Ford sedan, cold rain dripping continuously from her umbrella. Ever since the Downing Street incident, that whimsical "mosquito trap plan" had made no progress whatsoever, and she could only continue to follow the lead before her.

This Ford, consumed by flames, was reduced to a twisted metal skeleton. The murderer had used it to steal the hard drives and lure Eliot out. Now, those stolen hard drives had long since melted in the high temperatures, turning into clumps of solidified polymer within the car frame.

Mei Wa felt like she was playing a meticulously designed puzzle game, and the killer codenamed Beta was the mastermind hidden behind the scenes.

From the initial murder of an American businessman to the assassination of the Downing Street reporter, Beta, who should have left Britain, had gone against the norm and struck again, stealing hard drives to lure Eliot out, and then delivering a fatal blow to the second-generation official at the Forest Club.

Mei Wa couldn't understand why this mysterious Beta was so relentlessly pursuing a female reporter and a second-generation official. What kind of motive lay behind such an almost obsessive targeting?

Her subordinate handed Mei Wa the crime scene investigation report and shook his head, "We found nothing. The car was stolen, and the license plate was forged. The entire car was burned clean, no fingerprints, no DNA, not even a single useful trace was left behind."

Mei Wa took the report and asked thoughtfully, "There's something I haven't been able to figure out. Can you help me analyze it?"

"Please, go ahead," the subordinate immediately replied with a serious expression.

Mei Wa frowned deeply, "I don't understand why Beta insisted on assassinating that female reporter at Downing Street? Even more incomprehensible is why he was willing to risk exposure to return to Britain just to get rid of Eliot?"

She looked up, "One was a socialite who navigated the powerful with her beauty, and the other was a seemingly shrewd second-generation official. These two people are from completely different worlds."

The subordinate pondered for a moment, "Ma'am, I have a theory."

Mei Wa gestured for him to continue.

"Reporter Jasmine was known for leveraging her connections with the powerful to obtain insider information, even running a column specifically exposing the private lives of political and business elites," the subordinate analyzed. "And Eliot, as a second-generation official, was likely in possession of some fatal leverage by her. To silence her, he hired a killer to eliminate Jasmine."

Mei Wa raised an eyebrow, "Then why was Eliot killed by the very killer he hired?"

The subordinate rubbed his chin, "Could it be that Eliot refused to pay? The killer didn't get their fee, so they decided to take care of the employer as well?"

Mei Wa couldn't help but chuckle, "Eliot is a shrewd second-generation official; he wouldn't make such a low-level mistake."

The subordinate added, "Perhaps Eliot not only intended to default on the payment but also tried to use the police to eliminate Beta, a dangerous informant? And ended up playing with fire and getting burned?"

Mei Wa's smile gradually froze, her expression becoming serious again.

She turned to her subordinate, "Given Eliot's background, would he do something like defaulting on a payment?"

The subordinate pondered, "It's hard to say. We need to check his financial flows, especially if there are any records of large sums of money being deposited recently without being transferred out."

"Go check immediately," Mei Wa straightened her collar. "I'll meet this Chief Superintendent myself."

As the operations team leader for MI6, Mei Wa's meeting process was swift and efficient. She presented her credentials, stated her identity, and Doyle's secretary immediately led her to the Chief Superintendent's office.

Fifty-five-year-old Doyle sat behind his desk. Decades of experience at Scotland Yard had etched an imposing dignity onto his features. His sharp, hawk-like eyes still maintained the vigilance characteristic of a professional police officer. Despite having just suffered the grief of losing his son, the Chief Superintendent showed no trace of sorrow when facing Mei Wa.

Doyle's sharp gaze scrutinized Mei Wa, "Is there any progress on Eliot's case?"

Mei Wa met his gaze, "It's still in the speculative stage. But before we begin, I need to state my position."

She leaned forward slightly, "I am not from the disciplinary department. My sole purpose for this visit is to close the case as quickly as possible. I can guarantee that I have no recording devices on me. We don't have to acknowledge the content of today's conversation after leaving this office."

Doyle slowly leaned back in his chair, the leather making a slight rustling sound. "This office is equipped with a jamming device. Therefore, I agree to your proposal."

Mei Wa looked directly at Doyle, "Is there any connection between Eliot and the murdered reporter Jasmine that you are aware of but find inconvenient to disclose?"

Doyle picked up the pen on his desk and slowly rolled it between his fingers. "You're suggesting my son was involved with that socialite, she got leverage over him, so he hired a killer to silence her?"

He raised his eyes, "Then why did the killer kill the employer as well?"

"It seems you already have a theory," Mei Wa keenly caught the implication in his words.

"I am a police officer," Doyle firmly placed the pen on the desk. "Naturally, I understand how to deduce from clues."

Mei Wa leaned forward slightly, "Could you provide some clues?"

Doyle pondered for a moment, "The core of the problem lies with Eliot's financial company. That female reporter approaching my son was most likely after company secrets. They would naturally try to conceal such a clandestine relationship. I suspect it was certain data within the company that piqued the woman's interest."

Mei Wa pressed, "What did this data involve?"

Doyle did not answer immediately. He lowered his head slightly, his gaze fixed on Mei Wa.

Mei Wa immediately understood, "I apologize; I overstepped."

She changed the subject, "Do you have any other clues to offer?"

"No," Doyle's answer was crisp and decisive.

Mei Wa stood up and bowed, "Thank you for your time."

Doyle merely nodded slightly.

Mei Wa's figure disappeared outside the door. As the lock clicked shut, the dignified expression on Doyle's face vanished, replaced by a flash of ruthlessness in his eyes.