Chapter 84 Chapter 84 We will never be free again...
Benjy covered his mouth silently. Ethan, who was flipping through some documents to brief them, coughed dryly and turned around.
"I didn't get to tell you," Ethan said, "but CIA Director Henry gave a testimony to the Senate Intelligence Committee a few days ago, trying to convince them that the IMF is a dangerous, outdated, and uncontrollable organization and that we must be dismantled."
Elio asked, "Did he succeed?"
Ethan nodded. "The day I tracked down the London Syndicate."
Elio held his forehead in his hand and remained silent for a moment, trying to digest the news. But he couldn't help but speak. "I heard that you, the IMF, specialize in mission impossible tasks."
"yes."
"I also heard that your IMF is a secret organization that has been operating since the Cold War."
"yes."
Elio gestured in disbelief. "Just like that?"
"Yes," Ethan replied calmly. "I know what that sounds like, but Elio, my purpose has never changed. IMF or no IMF, no matter who I am, it won't stop me from pursuing the Syndicate. Do you understand?"
He met Elio's gaze intently. The assassin realized, with a mixture of frustration and relief, that Ethan was absolutely serious. This exceptional agent possessed a powerful will, and no amount of external obstacles would deter him from pursuing his pursuit.
"Okay," Elio said, "I get it. Me too."
Ethan smiled. He extended his fist and gently bumped it with Elio's. Seeing this, Benjy finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"But I can't go with you to see Director Henry." Elio turned to look at him. "I'm an internationally wanted criminal who has killed many wealthy and powerful people. I'm also slightly allergic to official organizations. Besides, I haven't been in the Syndicate for long, so I'm afraid I can't convince your leader of its existence."
“He wouldn’t believe it,” Ethan said. “Don’t even think about it.”
Benji sighed as he was about to speak.
"The syndicate likely has people planted in governments around the world," Elio added. "Our bombing of the Austrian Chancellor's car tonight went incredibly smoothly."
“I think that’s one of the reasons the IMF was dismantled,” Ethan added, “because I was going after the syndicate.”
"Well," said Benjy, "it seems all we have to do is catch Solomon Lane and destroy the Syndicate once and for all. So what are we waiting for?"
Ethan looked from Benjy to Elio. A smile crossed the face of the dismissed agent.
"We're waiting for a plane with the right timing," he said briskly.
The direct flight from Vienna to Casablanca only took four or five hours. Benjy, determined to become an international fugitive, settled into his seat and soon fell asleep with his head nodding (Benjy: This isn't treason!... Well, at least not part of it, right?).
Ethan, who was sitting next to him, gently pushed the technician's head, which had fallen asleep on his shoulder, aside and climbed out of his seat. The late-night flight was deserted, and Ethan tiptoed to sit next to Elio. He saw the assassin absentmindedly stroking the golden card.
"How much longer do you have?" Ethan asked in a low voice.
Elio glanced at him. "Two days."
The assassin's fingers loosened, and the agent snatched the golden card of conquest from his hand. Ethan turned it over and over in his fingers, examining it. A streak of golden light reflected from the crown pierced Elio's eyes. He closed his eyes. "It's been drowned, burned, hacked, and chopped by swords and axes, but it remains as unshakeable as a Horcrux."
Ethan didn't say anything, just stared at the card in his hand in a daze.
"Have you read Harry Potter?" Elio asked, turning his head.
"I understand the Horcrux joke." Ethan handed the card back to him. "I'm just thinking of other ways. Have you heard of the Dark Justice League? They specialize in dealing with these kinds of magical items."
"I've heard of it, and we've been in contact before." Elio shook the card and put it away. "It was John Constantine who told me what it was. He also told me that only dragon breath can destroy it."
"Dragon Breath?" Ethan asked, standing up straight. "Is that a code name for something?"
Elio looked at him silently.
"Okay." Ethan sat back down. "We'll do our best to get this done in two days. I know it sounds impossible, but don't worry, you know we specialize in making impossible plans happen."
There was something deliberately lighthearted in his tone. Elio remained silent, thinking for a moment, then realized his fingers were still in his pocket, fiddling with the card, and quickly pulled his hand out.
"Don't comfort me, Ethan," Elio said, gesturing to silence Ethan before he could speak. "There's no rush. If we rush things, I'm afraid he'll just slip away from us again."
Ethan looked at him.
"We have to set everything up," Elio said, also looking at him. "We can only close the net when we're sure he's taken the bait. Because this whole thing is more important than me."
This time he paused, giving Ethan room to interrupt. But when Ethan opened his mouth, he found that he was in a heavy mood and couldn't find the right words to say at this time.
"My friend is still looking for another way to end this game," Elio told him. "So don't worry about it, Ethan. But if I fail, you will continue, right?"
He smiled slightly and squeezed Ethan's shoulder, but Ethan didn't respond and thought seriously for a moment.
"I know most people put mission before self," Ethan said. "I'm no exception, but only when that 'self' is me. When that 'self' is my companion, and their lives are at stake, you'll find that my choices run counter to most people's."
It was Elio's turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow.
"You'll find there are many ways to salvage a mission," Ethan patted his shoulder and stood up, "but the lives of your companions are different. So, don't say that until the last moment, okay?"
"Is that why Ilsa went back?" Elio said. "To regain Solomon's trust in her own way?"
Ethan, about to return to his seat, stopped. He turned to look at Elio. The young assassin's black curly hair almost blended into the dark background of the porthole, with only the green navigation lights on the wings flickering there. Elio's green eyes, hidden in the darkness, were also like that, reflecting a faint color under the reading light on the cabin ceiling.
"…We don't know," Ethan said softly, "but I can guess. The people in charge of British secret intelligence organizations are no different from those in the United States. The last time they came after me, they put my family on the wanted list."
“Maybe that’s why the agents turned to the Syndicate,” Elio said. “They were desperate.”
Ethan was silent for a moment, then sat down next to Elio again.
"I heard your conversation with that man," Ethan said, "though I didn't mean to. The agent Ryan sent to kill you. Did his last words bother you?"
Elio hesitated. He saw Ethan's eyes, gleaming in the light of the reading lamp, a circle of gold rimmed around a beautiful green. These eyes were looking at him intently.
"I don't think it's a bother," Elio whispered. "It's just... something I can't help but think about."
Perhaps only when death loomed did he ponder these unnecessary questions. He didn't dwell on them normally. Like the hidden blade on his arm, Elio was accustomed to hiding in the darkness, unsheathing it with a clean, sharp, and deadly precision. Any unnecessary thought would have hindered his progress, slowed him down, and prevented him from reaching this day.
Perhaps he should have run faster. Death's footsteps thudded behind him, and he should have run with all his might, but instead, his thoughts slowed him down, weighing him down, and he couldn't help but look back.
I have nowhere to go either, Elio thought. I just never thought about it.
Those self-proclaimed, aboveboard organizations force their employees to fight tooth and nail, shedding every drop of blood for them, only to abandon them mercilessly. This was true of John, abandoned by his organization and forced to work for the Syndicate; of Ilsa, coerced by the British Secret Intelligence Service and forced to return to the Syndicate several times; and of course, of Ethan, who was repeatedly expelled, put on a global wanted list, and even had his entire department disbanded.
They all had nowhere to go.
The Assassin's Brotherhood was inherently better than them. At least Elio would be forever grateful to Alvin for saving him from near death that rainy night. If it weren't for him, Elio would have died silently in Gotham, then been taken away by the Templars for research, leaving his body mutilated.
But no matter what organization it is, it's ultimately made up of people. As long as they're human, they change. Someone who's sincere today may not be trustworthy tomorrow, and someone who does evil today may not be despicable tomorrow.
"What are you thinking about?" Ethan asked caringly.
But the only thing that is certain, Elio thought, looking at Ethan, is that we will never be free again.
"I guess... I'm just a little sympathetic," Elio replied softly. "Nothing."
Ethan looked at him intently for a moment. "You could have chatted with me, you know? This flight is still long."
Elio nodded. Ethan seemed to want to say something else and was about to stand up, but then leaned over. "Are you sure you don't have anything else to say to me?"
Elio nodded again.
"Well, you know," Ethan said, "when I was your age, I was complaining about not having a decent cappuccino machine at my base, and my teammates' pour-over coffee tasted like crap. So, if you—"
"It just occurred to me that I have something to tell you," Elio interrupted. "Could you please come closer?"
Of course Ethan did as he was told. He put his ear close to Elio, and the air flow when he spoke tickled him. But when Ethan understood what Elio was saying, he couldn't help but feel angry and amused.
"I swear we didn't do anything in the bathroom," Elio said. "Really."
"I never said I didn't trust you, little bastard." Ethan replied. He pointed his finger at Elio and stood up. Before he left, Elio called him back again.
"Thanks, Ethan."
"That's for sure."
Ethan returned to his seat. Benjy was still sprawled out in a deep sleep, oblivious to their brief conversation. Elio sat alone by the window, gazing out at the pitch blackness, the color of approaching death. Yet, strangely, the assassin, aware of the two-day deadline hanging over his head, felt only peace.
Maybe it's because he's escaped death so many times.
Or maybe it was because he was tired of running away.
Elio gazed out the window at the darkness and peacefully closed his eyes. They still had a few hours until they arrived in Casablanca, enough time for a brief rest, Elio thought. Once there, they would find Ilsa. Ilsa had mentioned a plan that required their participation, and Ethan speculated that it was this plan that had led Solomon to seek them out, perhaps even to fall into their trap...
Gradually, Elio fell asleep.
The wing-mounted navigation lights flashed green as usual. The wingtip strobes glowed white, blending with the red anti-collision lights as they flew straight toward the honey-colored Casablanca. In the opposite hemisphere, the sun was setting; here, the rising stars filled the night sky like sparkling diamonds.
These lights intertwined and shone, gently passing over Elio's sleeping face.
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