"The Widow" Bertha

In the British version of House of Cards paro, there may be a considerable degree of character OOC and background settings that do not conform to realistic common sense.

Intermission episode 02

Three headlines.

The revelations written in bold and large fonts on the huge page pushed the current government to a dead end step by step.

And the authors of these three headlines all come from one person-Bertha Thames.A few months ago, she was just one of many journalists swearing to make it in this troubled industry.

A few months later, Bertha Thames had become the number one celebrity in the newspaper.

Some people say that she got a lot of inside information by being a lover of a certain politician; some people say that she made a fortune with her hacker brother and did a lot of illegal and criminal things.But in any case, no matter whether you are jealous or envious, there is no evidence, and these rumors are nothing more than private rumors.

And Bertha herself, who is in the whirlpool of public opinion in the newspaper office——

He was slumped on a chair in his younger brother's college dormitory, with his feet resting on the table, wishing he could raise himself to the sky, and he didn't forget to pick up the potato chip bucket jointly bought by Thomas and his roommate.

Sitting opposite her, Thomas Thames read the contents of the notebook with a blank expression: "Mycroft Holmes, MI6 employee."

Bertha: "And then?"

Thomas: "No more."

Bertha: "Huh?"

Thomas took a deep breath: "Did you understand what I just said?! MI6! James Bond's work unit! I will absolutely, absolutely not check it out for you, in case tomorrow I'm caught wearing a suit What do you do with a burly man in sunglasses wearing a sack?"

"It's nothing to do," Bertha ate potato chips nonchalantly, "If you don't help me check it out, I'll Google it myself."

"……you!"

Thomas' expression suddenly became very complicated.

"Bertha," he persuaded reluctantly, "it's best not to get in touch with this kind of person. The olive branch he handed may not be an opportunity, and it may cost you your life."

Bertha hooked her lips: "Isn't that better?"

Thomas: "I'm telling you seriously!"

Bertha: "You think I'm joking with you."

As she said that, she threw the potato chip bucket fiercely on the table, even though she was leaning on the chair without any image, Bertha's gorgeous face was full of smiles, but it showed a bit of cynicism.

"A hacker advised people not to take risks," Berthathan sneered, "where do you get the confidence, Thomas?"

"I--"

"To shut up."

Bertha was not in the mood to listen to her brother's arguments. She took out her mobile phone from her pocket, glanced at it indifferently, and then immediately put her long legs back from the table.

"I won't talk to you anymore," Bertha put away her phone, "I'm leaving, I'll lend you a bedroom."

"What?"

"Change clothes."

Speaking of Bertha expropriating Thomas' bedroom in a hurry, she went in with a backpack, and when she came out, the baggy T-shirt and sports shorts had been replaced with professional formal attire, carrying a leather bag and high heels, with an extremely professional look.

Sitting in front of the table, Thomas stared at Bertha's plump and moist lips for a while, then his expression became extremely complicated.

"you……"

Thomas didn't find his own words for a long time: "Bertha, didn't you, you just saw that man—it was still at night! It was almost like being tied up by him!"

Bertha hooked her lips: "What's wrong?"

Thomas: "..."

He tried to persuade him several times, but in the end all the words were swallowed back in his stomach.

"Tell the truth, Bertha," Thomas finally asked with difficulty, "Are you after the man you met once, or are you simply looking for danger?"

Bertha didn't speak, but her shining eyes told Thomas the answer.

She asked him to investigate Mycroft Holmes, more interested than knowing exactly who she was working for.

An interest in crisis and the unknown.

Bertha Thames would not have been a journalist if she hadn't.The older sister Thomas is tall and has outstanding looks. She has grown to nearly 1.8 meters when she was in middle school. With the blessing of a pair of long legs and honey-colored skin, she is a stunner in the world.At that time, many companies wanted to sign her as a model, but Bertha refused.

She wants to be famous, but she doesn't want to be a star. In Bertha's words, that kind of life is "still too ordinary".

But Thomas really has no right to accuse Bertha—isn't he also a hacker?

What more can I say?

Thomas finally sighed and said with a wry smile, "You know, actually, my roommate has always wanted to chase you."

Bertha brushed her long black hair nonchalantly: "I'm not interested in nerds who work in IT."

She checked the shoelaces again, and then threw the backpack she carried into Thomas' bedroom: "Let's go, don't call me on weekends."

"But you must call me!"

"If I lose contact after the weekend, remember to go to the grave today next year to buy the most expensive flowers in the flower shop."

"You—Bertha Thames! Can you stop cursing yourself like that?!"

Thomas was left with a series of wanton laughter from his own sister.

Bertha walked out of the student dormitory brazenly, stepping on eight centimeter high heels, completely ignoring the surprised expressions of Zhou Ren's college students.After leaving the campus, she took out her mobile phone and opened the email just now.

It was still the cold public mailbox that sent the email, saying that I would meet Bertha tonight.

The meeting address was not written in the mailbox, but Bertha probably knew it.

It's only an hour's drive back to London, and it's completely in time.When Bertha returned to her apartment, the sun was just completely below the horizon. She took out the key, unscrewed the door, and turned on the light in the hallway. When she looked up, she saw the man sitting on the sofa in the living room.

It was the Mr. Holmes whom she had refused to ask Thomas to investigate.

The man was the same as that night, with a suit and leather shoes and a tall and straight figure. Sitting on Bertha's modern sofa looked a little weird-this clothes should be put together with the retro leather sofa.

His eyes stayed on Bertha's business suit for a moment, and then he said, "Interesting."

Bertha: "Excuse me?"

Mycroft: "It turns out that you went to the university dormitory to work."

The implication is: To visit my younger brother, do I still need to dress so formally?

One sentence made it clear that he had a complete grasp of Bertha's whereabouts.

Bertha didn't mind, she tucked her hair down on her forehead, and said nonchalantly, "I don't wear formal clothes because I have a job to go out."

She paused, and then said: "Because I have a job at home."

Naturally, it meant that she changed into a formal attire in order to meet this Mr. Holmes.

The man sitting on the sofa smiled, but no one in the room took the smile seriously.

"Thank you very much for your cooperation, Miss Thames," he said in an official tone, "some exclusive reports are well written, and your pen skills are very strong. I believe that even if this opportunity is not given, it will be a day to become the backbone of the newspaper. thing."

"Wonderful, sir," she said, "what information are you going to give me this time against our poor Prime Minister?"

"smart people."

Mycroft spoke approvingly: "It does take a few more stories from you."

Maybe not smart enough, Bertha laughed to herself inwardly.A truly smart person should be like Thomas, who realizes that the other party is too much to provoke and then stops.

But she can't.

The deeper the so-called "cooperation" went, the more dangerous it would be. How could Bertha refuse such a good thing?

Thomas asked her whether she fell in love with the person in front of her or the many unknowns and crises he brought, Bertha felt no difference.

Isn't the man who quietly appeared on the sofa in her living room not synonymous with such attractiveness?

"Write a few more."

Bertha repeated his rhetoric, and then laughed out loud: "Sir, I think you should understand the operation of the newspaper office better than a fledgling reporter like me, and after publishing a few more headlines, you finally succeeded in bringing Mr. Prime Minister and his staff together. If you pull them down, I'm afraid I'm going to sit at the top of the newspaper."

"What's the problem?"

Mycroft took it for granted, "I thought that was what you were asking for."

Bertha: "Yes, but you can push me up with one hand, or push me into the bottom of the water with your backhand."

Mycroft didn't respond, but his expression gave Bertha the answer—it wasn't something obvious.

"I can write for you," she said, "one report, several reports, as many as you like. But I ask you for one that will protect me, sir."

"A means of self-preservation."

The man on the sofa seemed to sneer: "You know what you are proposing, Miss Thames?"

Bertha: "You know why I came to see you in changed clothes, Mr. Holmes?"

Mycroft pursed his lips.

"Unfortunately," he said.

"what?"

The man stood up from the sofa: "You should agree to the pursuit of Thomas Thames' roommate, instead of changing clothes and coming to see me, miss."

Bertha just raised her eyebrows.

She looked into the man's eyes.

What's in that?Nothing at all.Even though the man five paces away looked polite and straight-backed, and seemed indistinguishable from those gentlemen whom Bertha had detailed information on, he was different, and she could just tell.

When ordinary politicians looked at Bertha, she only thought they were hypocritical, but when Holmes stared at her, there was a throbbing that was close to trembling but completely different from the tailbone straight to the top of her head.

His gaze shifted from Bertha's eyes to her body. The man's scrutinizing gaze was almost cold. She could even feel his naked gaze passing through her clothes. Peeled out.

It seems that her well-dressed clothes are still useful.

So Bertha responded in a bored tone: "How boring is that?"

Mycroft Holmes gave what might be called a polite smile.

"Well."

The man spoke, his tone was calm enough and gentle enough.

"Take off your clothes," he said.