Léon's Long Face

Beta sat beneath the awning of a street-side café, the espresso in his hand long gone cold.

His seat faced the side entrance of Scotland Yard headquarters. The most direct way to find Eliot was to keep an eye on his Chief Superintendent father.

At exactly ten o'clock, a dark blue Jaguar XJ slowly emerged from the underground garage.

Its distinctive "MET1" plate gleamed in the sunlight, making it especially conspicuous amid the traffic. Beta placed several banknotes on the coaster, mounted his Yamaha scooter, and silently slipped into the flow of cars like a drop of water.

The Jaguar XJ weaved nimbly through London's afternoon traffic. The driver's skills were textbook-perfect: every lane change clean and decisive, every acceleration precise and restrained.

Beta used an intermittent tailing strategy. After following for three intersections, he deliberately turned onto a side road, then predicted the route and latched back onto the target at the next junction.

He was in no rush. This was destined to be a meticulous hunt lasting half a month. Like assembling a puzzle, he only needed to gather a few pieces each day, and eventually the prey's complete route would emerge.

The Jaguar's driver had clearly received professional anti-surveillance training. He turned at intersections without any pattern, sometimes slowing down and sometimes speeding up, searching the rearview mirror for suspicious vehicles.

But Beta's methods were more seasoned.

Like a chess player, he anticipated the other man's route. Sometimes he closed in to observe, sometimes he deliberately vanished, then quietly reappeared once the other side relaxed its guard. This cat-and-mouse rhythm made it difficult for even the craftiest prey to realize it had been marked.

The Jaguar slowly entered a heavily guarded upscale residential district. The wrought-iron gates opened automatically after recognizing the special license plate. Beta stopped his scooter fifty meters from the entrance. This closed community required Fingerprints for access; no amount of disguise would get him inside.

He watched the dark blue vehicle disappear around the bend of a private driveway, then casually lowered his helmet visor. The engine gave a soft hum as the scooter turned toward the nearest surveillance blind spot.

Today's tailing ended here, but the hunt had only just begun.

Beta cut the engine in an alley and pulled out an encrypted phone. The equipment he needed was basic: a pistol with a suppressor and a rifle fitted with an optical sight. Nothing more.

The ringing before the call connected was especially piercing in the silence. Only after the seventh beep did breathing come through the receiver.

"Hey, Leon!" Beta said brightly. "How's your potted-plant girlfriend?"

The sound of a glass slamming onto a table came from the other end. "You'd better have something urgent."

"London's under tight watch right now," Beta said. "I need two weapons: a pistol with a suppressor and a rifle with an optical scope. Every underground channel in the city is being watched by MI6. Even an old fox like Old Jack doesn't dare take jobs anymore."

Beta continued, "There are more agents staking out the Continental Hotel than green flies on rotten meat. You're my only option."

Leon was silent for a few seconds. "You're in London right now?"

Naturally, Beta was not about to tell the truth. "No, I'm still in Paris. Why?"

"I'm in London, with someone... Fine. I'll take you to see my weapons dealer. He only does business with me."

Beta immediately seized on the key point. "'With someone'? You have a partner? Seriously?"

His tone brimmed with disbelief. "Your personality hasn't changed in decades. Even your girlfriend is a pothos plant, and now you actually have a partner? Good Lord, the world really has changed."

Leon choked on his words for a moment. "...See you in London."

With that, he hung up.

Beta stared at his phone and muttered, "The times really have changed. Even this guy has a partner now?"

Beta met Leon at a café.

The man in his forties wore a black knit cap and round sunglasses. Wrapped in a black overcoat, he gave off an unmistakable stay-away-from-me aura. His long, expressionless face made him look as though he had just crawled out of a morgue.

Unexpectedly, an eleven- or twelve-year-old girl sat beside Leon.

The girl had chin-length hair and wore a green jacket over a striped short-sleeved shirt. A black choker with a pendant circled her neck, while shorts and boots made her look particularly lively. She was holding a sundae, swinging her legs from a high stool as she curiously studied Beta, an ordinary-looking stranger with striking eyes.

Beta raised his brows in surprise, his gaze lingering on the girl for a moment before he gave her a gentle smile. He deliberately walked around to sit on her other side, leaving the girl between himself and Leon.

Beta smiled and extended a hand to her. "Hello. You can call me F. That's my codename."

He blinked. "People in our line of work all need codenames."

The girl solemnly shook Beta's hand. "I'm Leon's assistant. I don't have a codename yet."

Beta could not help laughing. He turned toward the still-expressionless Leon. "This little one has plenty of energy. She really might make you livelier."

He gave him a teasing wink. "Better than wearing that stiff face all day like everyone owes you money."

Leon slowly removed his round sunglasses, the eyes behind the lenses narrowing slightly. "A man who insisted an hour ago that he was in Paris is now standing at the meeting place. You're as scheming as ever."

Beta smiled dismissively, then studied the girl with interest. "Can I touch your hair? It looks fluffy and soft, like a little cloud."

As he spoke, he gestured with his hand, his fingers making a light grabbing motion in the air.

The girl lifted her face and firmly shook her head. "No!"

Beta was amused again.

A little girl who ought to have been at school playing with her classmates was instead sitting solemnly between two professional assassins, putting on the airs of a fellow professional. The whole picture was absurdly funny.

Beta smiled at the girl. "What's your name?"

The girl answered seriously, "I don't tell my name to strangers so easily, especially since I'm an assassin."

Beta laughed out loud at that, and even the corner of Leon's mouth curved into a faint smile.

Beta turned to Leon. "She really does have talent. But I hope you'll think it over carefully. A clever child like her would surely be an outstanding student if she went to school. Don't let her take this path so lightly."

Leon said nothing, which counted as agreement.

Beta's smile faded as he solemnly addressed the girl. "My name is Salong Wick. I don't particularly like the name, but it is my real name."

He paused, then added, "Leon and I are good friends. See? I even know his name."