"All right, let's brief up," Laswell said, voice clipped and no-nonsense as her face appeared on the large TV screen mounted on the wall. "We've uncovered more about Harkin's connections leading to Rich and Zakharov."

At the mention of that last subject, John tightened his jaw. 

He was leaning forward, forearms resting on the table, fingers interlocked. 

Soap, Gaz, Simon, and Gabby listened.

"This is Richard Moreau—better known as Rich in business circles. He presents himself as a respected businessman, with legitimate investments in fashion, art, and luxury markets," Laswell paused, pulling up images of a well-dressed man in his late forties, dark hair in short faded haircut, a neatly trimmed faded or light beard, and sharp blue eyes that held an undeniable air of authority.

"He comes from old French military lineage. He's powerful, well-connected, and has a reputation for dealing in more than just high-end suits and priceless paintings."

She clicked another slide, revealing records of offshore accounts, money transfers, and suspicious financial activity.

"But beneath all that elegant bullshit," she went on, "Rich has a vested interest in arms dealing, money laundering, and human trafficking. He's the financial muscle behind Zakharov's operation, he's making sure all the money and resources are given to what Victor needs."

John exhaled slowly, fingers drumming against the table. "So, we take him and keep him for you?"

"Yes," Laswell confirmed before moving on. "He's hosting an exclusive masquerade party at The Red Room cocktail bar around in London tonight. High society, money, power—everyone who's anyone in that world will be there. That's your entry."

She leaned closer to the screen, eyes scanning on the 141 team. "You'll have one shot at this. So listen up."

John nodded once, turning to his team. "Gabby, you're up first."

Gabby smirked, already rolling her shoulders. "What's my role, Laswell?"

"You're infiltrating as an international singer," Laswell explained. "Your Hispanic accent is perfect, and you've got the looks to sell it. You'll be playing the part of a rising Latina pop star, partnered with an old money European fiancé. Rich people love their entertainers."

"Classic," Gabby said with a smirk, folding her arms as she glanced at John. "Remember two years back? I was a glamorous singer, and you were my wealthy sugar daddy from England? Those were the days, Gramps."

John forced a smile, but she could tell it didn't reach his eyes when she used that nickname for him.

"Cheeky, aren't ya?" John remarked with a tight smile. "As your play pretend, sugar daddy, Knocks. You are the distraction. Which means you'll have access to the VIP areas. That's where you get into Rich's laptop. We need everything—contacts, financial records, anything linking him to Zakharov."

"Got it. I already have an idea on what I'm going to wear for tonight." She purred suggestively.

Simon scowled, clenching his jaw as he adjusted himself in the seat beside John.

"You fucking wear any dress that grabs blokes' attention with that leg chain again, Gabrielle, you'll find yourself barefoot and pregnant again," Simon said sharply in a cool manner.

John frowned, rubbing his face with his hand, while Soap nearly choked on his water and started coughing for air.

Gaz stayed still, although his brown cheeks turned a shade of red.

"Ah, for fuck sake. Simon keep your dirty talk out of the mission briefings."

"Not my fault, Price. She's good at her job, but that doesn't mean I need to remind her of what I would do," Simon stated matter-of-factly.

She stared and then look away, biting off her devilish smirk.

"Kinky, ow!" Soap remarked, rubbing his arm after Gabby smacked him on the side near her.

"Moving on," John said as he turned his gaze to Soap. "You're playing the role of her fiancé. Old-money rich. A royal Scottish line—born into wealth, entitled, and disgustingly charming."

Soap grinned. "So basically, me."

Gaz let out a snort. "Obviously."

"Oi, piss off," he shot back.

John ignored their banter and continued. "Your job is to make Rich believe you're interested in investing in his business ventures—but don't act too eager. These men don't trust desperation."

Soap nodded. "Keep it casual, got it."

Then, his eyes then landed on Gaz.

"You'll be going as a wealthy bystander—art and business enthusiast. Just enough interest to blend in but not enough to draw attention."

Gaz gave a single nod. "I can handle that."

"Ghost and I will be your exfil," John said. "We'll stay outside and wait for you. If anything goes sideways, we pull you out fast."

Laswell took over again. "Your main objective is to extract Rich. We need him in custody and we need him to talk. If you can do this quietly, good. if not—" she glanced at John "—just knock him out. Don't discard him. Understood?"

The team exchanged looks, each one understanding the weight of the mission before John gave Laswell a curt nod.

"Alright. Get ready. We leave in two hours."

Gabby flashed a sly smile as she started to move away. "Time to find a dress that screams rich but untouchable." Before exiting the debrief room, she approached Simon and placed a kiss on his head. "Don't be uptight, el amado (love). Eres mis únicos ojos (You're my only eyes)."

Simon grunted in reply, yet a smirk appeared as he watched her exit the room.

Soap cracked his knuckles. "Aye, and a suit that says I'm better than you, but I'll entertain the idea of doing business."

"You both better sell it," Gaz huffed in return.

"Eh, don't be jealous, Kyle. It's not too late for me to give you a few pointers on playing the role. I've been taking acting classes since my school days."

John rubbed his beard, a smirk ghosting over his lips.