Although the American branch of the Assassin Brotherhood had been wiped out by William and Carlos "Cross" and his family, that didn't mean the European chapter had disappeared as well.
But to William now, no matter how skilled an assassin was, they were still just assassins.
In terms of stealth, practicality, cost, and training efficiency, they couldn't even compare to his spider robots—let alone sentry robots.
So he had no hesitation about Carlos retiring; in fact, he thought Carlos settling in Castle Town was better for the safety of the castle.
After all, the best assassins were often also the best anti-assassination specialists.
Right now, William only wanted to know whether Colin was indeed the one running the safe house in Johannesburg.
If so, White Ghost could spare him or even cooperate with him on some tasks. If not… then his fate would be left to chance.
Carlos, a veteran at reading people's moods, quickly realized that William had no interest in the history of the Templars or the Assassin Brotherhood, and smoothly steered the conversation toward Sunday's earlier inquiry.
"Two years ago, after we returned to London, Colin passed my trials and successfully joined the Brotherhood.
But the Brotherhood was in disarray at the time—after the Loom of Fate was destroyed, they had no idea how to select targets for assassination and fell into chaos and confusion.
So I told him to stay low in the States for a while. I didn't expect he'd go to university and then use the opportunity to join the CIA.
He was then assigned to Africa, and he's been stationed at that safe house in Johannesburg for a full year."
"OK, got it," William nodded. "If Rita likes it, you can take her to the stables often.
In a few days, I'll have the riding stables open every Sunday to all the kids in town, under Abigail's name."
"Thank you." Carlos couldn't help but feel moved. William wasn't just nurturing Rita's interest—he was also creating cover and security for his family by extending the privilege to every child in town.
"William, if possible, let Colin keep his CIA cover. We might need him in the future."
"No problem. He's one of mine now too. I'll decide based on the situation. Give my regards to Rita and her mother. Bye."
"Thanks. Bye."
After ending the call, William summoned the Kun-class fighter jet, which was still hovering above the castle, back to the Yellowstone base in the United States.
Two combat robots boarded the ship, escorting the still-unconscious Eric to the base's interrogation room.
Then the fighter traveled back to Johannesburg through a portal.
William cast a Veritas Spell on the unconscious Eric, and about ten minutes later, Sunday reported:
"Sir, five years ago, when M was assassinated and MI6 was thrown into chaos, Eric, hoping to earn merit and climb the ranks, privately traded intel with an information broker.
But what he didn't expect was that during the exchange, U.S. soldiers were planning to apprehend the broker.
From that point on, Eric was blackmailed by the American military.
Fortunately, Eric still had a bit of patriotism—what he handed over were low-value or soon-to-be outdated intel files.
But this time was different. The Americans threatened his life if he didn't give them data on the Titan.
Eric, scared but calculating, knew that even if he complied, England wouldn't let him live. So he figured: if everyone knew about the intel, it wouldn't be a secret anymore.
That's why he reached out to Tobin, intending to sell the Titan data for a hefty sum. With that kind of money, a veteran agent like him could easily disappear."
After hearing this, William said casually, "Tell Gareth Mallory that Eric didn't defect—but he's already been dealt with.
Also, tell him to send me the full list and solid evidence of CIA operatives who've leaked intel."
"Understood, Sir."
While William waited, far away in a U.S. Air Force base, General Ross was fuming. He'd just learned that the team he'd secretly deployed to monitor and capture Eric not only failed but had been wiped out by an unknown force.
Furiously puffing on his cigar to calm himself down, Ross finally turned to his aide. "Is Emil Blonsky and his team still near the Persian Gulf?"
"Yes, General," the aide replied, but then added, "But it would take Blonsky over two hours to fly to Johannesburg. He might not make it in time."
Without a second thought, Ross snapped, "Then tell the CIA that the top-secret intel Tobin Frost has was obtained by one of our agents embedded in England.
If they dare mess with my plan, I'll order our troops in Johannesburg to take him by force."
"Uh… sir…" The aide broke into a cold sweat at that order. "Even if our super soldier program is stalled and we need to compete with Sector Seven for funding, we could still apply for another round of support.
You have far more influence and connections than that newly formed department. It's not worth making enemies out of the CIA just for some British research data."
"Follow the order."
Ross dismissed him, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and smoked his cigar in silence.
He could only hope his aide was right. Ever since opposition started mounting over the massive costs and long timelines of his research,
Ross had clearly felt his high-level connections beginning to distance themselves.
Sensing danger and determined not to be sidelined, Ross began eyeing the newly reinstated Sector Seven—a department that had been disbanded once before and reformed just over a year ago.
But multiple requests for cooperation had yielded nothing.
Finally, a deeply trusted source confided to him that Sector Seven now reported directly to the President.
That bombshell left Ross momentarily disheartened.
But once he calmed down, he thought: if the road in America is blocked, then he'd turn his attention to the British.
And to his surprise, when he had someone dig deeper into the situation, they actually found leverage over Eric.
Ross had been planning to wait until the British had developed something concrete, then swoop in to claim the results—using them as bait to secure renewed funding for the Super Soldier program.
But unexpectedly, just as England made some progress, the internet exploded with a scandal involving Sector Seven.
Seeing that news, Ross didn't hesitate for long before deciding to activate his asset: Eric.
Once again, things didn't go as planned. Eric—who had always seemed timid and cooperative—actually tried to ditch both the British and the Americans at once.
Luckily, Ross had taken the online leak seriously enough to assign extra surveillance, and when Eric made his move, they reported back quickly.
That's how a ten-man U.S. military team ended up in Johannesburg.
Unfortunately, while those soldiers were elite in Ross's eyes, in White Ghost's eyes, they were nothing more than nuisances—easily dispatched with a flick of the wrist.
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