American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 54 Preparation
Beta certainly has no plans to hire more bodyguards; every additional person around him increases the risk of exposure.

He pretended to answer a phone call, then immediately told Michael, "The matter is settled ahead of schedule; I need to fly back to New York now. Take me to the airport immediately."

This sudden decision surprised Michael, but as a professional, he immediately carried out his employer's instructions.

In front of the airport terminal, Beta said a brief goodbye to Michael and watched his dutiful bodyguard drive away.

After confirming Michael's departure, Beta wandered around the terminal for a while before heading to the taxi pick-up area. He took a taxi straight back to his hotel, quickly cleaning out all items in the room that might have left traces, ensuring there were no traces of his personal biometrics.

Check out and leave.

As for any remaining traces, those will be handled by the professional cleaning staff of this high-end hotel.
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Back in the safe house, Beta removed the disguise he had maintained for 36 hours.

He slowly peeled off the meticulously crafted mask in front of the mirror, revealing his true face. Sticky adhesive still clung to his skin, which was slightly red and itchy from being under the mask for so long. He carefully peeled off the adhesive that held the mask together and rubbed off the hair held in place by hairspray.

He stood in front of the sink, scrubbing his face vigorously with cold water, then took a long, hot shower to thoroughly wash away his sweat-soaked hair. After changing into comfortable, clean clothes, he let out a long sigh and sank into the soft bed in the safe house.

I opened my personal phone and a dozen unread text messages popped up one after another.

Although they were all from unfamiliar numbers, Beta immediately recognized the signature "><" emoji at the end of each message as coming from Ashley. He read through them one by one, from the initial casual complaints about Japanese food not suiting his taste to the last few urgent messages urging him to reply.

[I didn't bring this phone.]
After a brief reply, Beta placed the phone on the table. He turned on "Franklin's" phone and began playing all the recorded conversations related to Michael.

Surrounded by Michael's rambling voice, Beta sat in front of the vanity mirror, practicing pronunciation by repeating the lines from the recording while continuing to refine the facial model on the table with his carving knife. Under his hands, a lifelike "Michael" was gradually taking shape, every wrinkle and every skin texture being precisely replicated.

There are only 24 hours left until the operation deadline on the 25th.

Beta has received the equipment delivered by Charlie's men: a CheyTac M200 sniper rifle.

At the workbench in the safe house, Beta spread out a towel and gently placed the murder weapon on it. He opened the toolbox, the metal tools gleaming under the light.

After taking his seat, he put on plastic gloves and skillfully removed the bolt, his movements as gentle as if he were handling a work of art.

Beta carefully examined the gun under the bright light of the flashlight: the mechanical grooves of the bolt were clearly visible, with almost no signs of use; the inner wall of the barrel was smooth, with no copper shavings or signs of friction or wear.

This is a nearly brand new weapon, even though it was assembled from parts.

"Assembled goods"

The bolt and receiver of this gun were made from two different CheyTac M200s, a combination that surprised Beta.

Beta knelt on one knee, his right eye close to the back of the gun barrel, peering through the narrow rifling channel and through the window at the brick wall of the building opposite.

This carefully chosen safe house was nestled between two buildings, with only the mottled red brick walls visible through the windows, rather than the usual view across the street. Even with the curtains drawn all day, there was no need to worry about being spied on inside. He held the gun steadily with both hands, slowly adjusting the angle until a screw on the fire escape staircase on the opposite building's exterior wall landed precisely in the center of the gun's barrel axis.

Beta got up, took the laser collimator from the toolbox, and inserted the instrument into the gun barrel.

With a soft "click," a beam of red laser shot out, casting a small spot of light on a rusty screw 20 meters away.

Beta knelt on one knee, his right eye looking through the sniper rifle's scope, his left eye slightly open. The red dot in the scope was still off-center from the crosshairs; the rifle needed calibration.

He put down his rifle, took a screwdriver from his toolbox, and carefully re-secured the scope mount. After confirming that everything was in order, he leaned closer to the scope again and slowly turned the mil-dot adjustment knob with his right hand.

With the clicking sound of gears meshing, the crosshair slowly rose from the lower left and finally perfectly overlapped with the red spot of light.

Now, the firearm's ballistic trajectory and the scope have been horizontally aligned, ensuring at least that there will be no left-right deviation after the bullet leaves the barrel. As for the issue of vertical bullet drop, it is calibrated by the red diamond-shaped pre-aiming frame in the scope, which precisely indicates the angle at which Beta needs to raise the muzzle.

Beta stood up and took out a .408 caliber bullet.

He tore open the cardboard box, took out a precision electronic scale from his toolbox, and weighed each of the 14 bullets one by one, recording the precise weight of each bullet in his notebook. After careful comparison, he finally selected the five bullets with the closest weights and arranged them neatly to the side.

Next, he removed the sniper rifle's magazine and carefully inspected it for dust or foreign objects. He gently pressed the magazine spring with his fingers to test its even rebound force, ensuring that the feeding process would not be hindered by mechanical failure.

Beta loaded the five selected bullets one by one into the magazine, and then inserted them into the chamber.

He held the sniper rifle with both hands, resting the adjustable stock against his right shoulder, and repeatedly fine-tuned the stock length and cheek rest height until he found the most comfortable shooting position.

With his left hand firmly supporting the butt against his shoulder and his right hand gripping the handle, Beta began simulating the firing process. He quickly pulled back the bolt and then pushed it forward with a "whoosh," feeding the bullet into the chamber.

Repeating the ejection and reloading process five times, a series of crisp metallic clanging sounds rang out, demonstrating the perfect smoothness of the entire feeding system during the test.

Beta removed the magazine, reloaded the five bullets, and then pulled the bolt again to test the feeding. The sound of the metal parts clicking together was crisp and regular, and each bullet completed the cycle of ejection and loading with perfect accuracy.

He only stopped moving after confirming that the entire ammunition feeding system was working smoothly.

He unscrewed the bipod of the rifle and placed it on the table, then put on a brand new pair of gloves. He took out a special cleaning agent and a non-woven cloth, dampened them, and carefully wiped every part of the gun that might have fingerprints, from the barrel to the receiver, from the magazine well to the stock adjustment knob.

Finally, he cleaned each of the five bullets one by one to make sure there were no biological traces left before putting them back into the magazine.

Beta thought for a moment and ejected a bullet from the magazine.

He walked to the dressing table, opened a small box, and took out a special transfer tape that had been prepared in advance, on which Michael's complete fingerprints were clearly imprinted.

He carefully pressed the tape onto the surface of the cartridge case, ensuring that the fingerprint pattern was perfectly transferred, before pressing the tampered bullet back into the bottom of the magazine.

(End of this chapter)