William took the MI6 ID card handed to him by Christmas and opened it. The name printed on the document was Arthur Carter Shaw. William looked at him seriously and said, "This mission could be dangerous. You might even end up wanted by certain special agencies. But the reward is substantial—$5 million. Do you want to reconsider?"
The reason William had specifically chosen Christmas and Gunnar for this task was simple. Christmas was English, which helped him blend in with the mission's environment. Gunnar, on the other hand, had a deeper bond with William due to William saving his daughter. Among all his operatives, William trusted these two the most.
Without hesitation, Christmas shook his head. "I was ready before I even came here."
Hearing this, William tossed the ID card back to him. "Good. Then it's yours."
"What about me, Boss?" Gunnar asked, clearly envious upon hearing that Christmas's reward was $5 million.
"You'll be assisting. Your pay will depend on the circumstances, but it won't be less than $1 million," William said with a smirk.
"$1 million less?!" Gunnar exclaimed dramatically, pointing at Christmas. "I can't believe this ugly bastard gets to be the lead for once."
William shrugged. "Blame your size. You're too tall and bulky. You're great for charging in headfirst, but for a covert mission, you're way too conspicuous."
Gunnar rolled his eyes but didn't press further. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a check, handing it to William. "Boss, this is the money Sunday transferred out of a Swiss bank account after we took out the gang that kidnapped my daughter in Thailand."
Taking the check, William glanced at it—$20 million. "How much did you guys keep for yourselves?"
"Each of us—me, Caesar, and Toll Road—took $6 million, and we gave $2 million to a Thai police officer who helped us," Gunnar replied honestly.
"You're just handing over half of it to me? That's generous," William said with a chuckle, flicking the check with his finger. He then handed it back to Gunnar. "Keep it. If you don't have any investment plans, put the money into gold. In a few years, you'll probably double your investment."
"Got it, Boss. Once this job is done, I'll do as you say." Gunnar wasn't offended in the slightest and accepted the check back without hesitation. As far as he was concerned, offering the money was his decision, and accepting or refusing it was William's.
William nodded with a smile, placing his phone on the desk. He called out to Sunday, "Pull up the files on the Paris Interior Ministry's Special Incident Response Unit."
Within seconds, a holographic projection displayed the profiles of the unit's 12 members. William pointed at one of them. "You've probably heard of Amir Barkawi. This team was reportedly hunting down the assassins who took out Barkawi's associates recently. That makes me suspect that someone in this team might be one of Barkawi's allies. Keep an eye on their captain, Otel Youssou."
Christmas and Gunnar exchanged glances but didn't ask any questions. They simply nodded.
"Until I give you explicit instructions, it's better to lose track of them than to risk exposing yourselves. Got it?"
"Understood," they both replied in unison.
"Good," William said with a satisfied smile. "During the mission, follow Sunday's instructions. If you need anything, just ask her for help."
"Got it, Boss," Christmas said. After discussing a few more details, both men left to find a hideout and prepare for their mission.
Three days passed in the blink of an eye. That evening, around 6 p.m., after finishing dinner, William, wearing a baseball cap and large, high-tech glasses, was strolling down the streets of Paris with Jesse. Both were dressed in matching casual outfits. Jesse had dragged him into a small trinket shop, and while she browsed happily, Sunday's voice suddenly reported, "Sir, as you predicted, Otel Youssou's team is making their move tonight."
Kissing Jesse on the cheek as she excitedly examined small knick-knacks, William stepped aside and asked in a low voice, "If Otel Youssou wants to create chaos, it has to be before the military parade. And since the 11th of November is the Armistice Day celebration for World War I, tonight's the perfect time. Who's their sacrificial pawn?"
"Zoey Neville," Sunday replied instantly, displaying a photo of Zoey alongside an older man. "The man is Pascal, Zoey's boyfriend. His real identity is an undercover police officer. Pascal has manipulated Zoey into agreeing to plant a bomb at his workplace, the headquarters of France's X Party, at 9 p.m."
"That's enough details. I don't care who they want to blow up," William said with a cold smirk. "What matters to me is ensuring they succeed—because once they steal that $4 billion, it'll be mine. Let me guess: Paris has already had underground intelligence dealers targeting Barkawi's associates, right?"
After a brief pause, Sunday responded, "Yes, there are three. One of them is also a broker and has had their assassin take out Barkawi's butler. That broker is currently in Paris."
"Show me all the plazas near the X Party headquarters," William said. He couldn't immediately recall the exact plaza from the movie but figured he could identify it by looking at the options.
Sunday quickly highlighted several locations. Among them, a small plaza a few hundred meters from the building matched the one in William's memory. "Send a message to that broker. Tell him I'll pay for any information related to Barkawi's butler. The meeting will be at Maurice Plaza at 9:15 p.m. Have Christmas position himself nearby."
"Understood, Sir." A few minutes later, Sunday reported, "The broker wants confirmation of your identity."
William chuckled and picked up his phone. "Connect the video call."
The call connected, and before the visibly nervous and stammering broker could even finish his greeting, William cut him off. "You've probably heard by now about the two assassins who targeted Barkawi's men being taken out. I'll pay $1 million for any intel you have on Barkawi's butler. Got it?"
"Understood, Mr. Devonshire," the broker replied without hesitation, clearly valuing his life more than playing games.
"Goodbye," William said curtly, ending the call. Sunday immediately erased any trace of the video call, leaving the broker frustrated that he couldn't retain any leverage. Still, he was secretly pleased to have established some form of connection with William.
Pocketing his phone, William returned to Jesse's side, cheerfully resuming their discussion about which trinket looked the nicest.
At 8:50 p.m., Zoey Neville, manipulated by her boyfriend, arrived at the X Party headquarters carrying a stuffed bear hiding a bomb. She placed her bag under her desk but was startled when five or six janitors entered the office, pushing cleaning carts.
The janitors were equally surprised to see someone working so late. Meanwhile, Zoey, though under manipulation, was far from a cold-blooded killer. She had timed the bomb to detonate at 9:15, ensuring the building was empty and no one would get hurt.
Flustered, she quickly retrieved the bag from under her desk and forced a smile at the janitors before hurrying out of the building.
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I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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