American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 58 The Operation Continues
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I would be extremely grateful for your monthly tickets, recommendation tickets, and continued reading!

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Vicky Davis's blonde hair was soaked in blood, and between her brow and her pale forehead was a conspicuous bloody hole. Her unfocused eyes were staring at them.

The older guard's hand rested on his holster, and when he saw the figures moving around in the meeting room through the glass door, muscle memory overcame reason.

He raised his pistol and pulled the trigger: "Don't move!"

The sound of a bullet shattering through glass rang out simultaneously with the young guard's scream.

Behind the bullet hole, Beta's figure swayed abruptly with the muffled thud of the bulletproof plate being hit. The older guard's index finger was still tightly on the trigger, but he saw that agile figure use the force of the bullet to perform a clean side somersault on the conference table, disappearing into its cover in an instant.

Firing a semi-automatic pistol requires rhythm: pull the trigger, wait for the slide to return to its original position, and then pull the trigger again to fire.

But the older guard completely lost his composure in the face of the sudden situation, mistaking the semi-automatic pistol for a fully automatic weapon and gripping the trigger tightly. He frantically aimed at the conference table and held the trigger for a full two seconds, but did not fire another bullet until a bullet came from behind the conference table, instantly knocking him to the ground and rendering him completely unconscious.

The young guard suddenly drew his pistol and hysterically roared as he pulled the trigger toward the meeting room.

"Bang bang bang!" Fifteen bullets were fired in a flurry of bullets until the magazine was completely emptied, at which point the slide clicked to a stop.

But his index finger was still mechanically pulling the trigger, and the empty hammer kept making a dry "ch-ch-ch" sound, which sounded particularly jarring in the smoke-filled conference room.

Beta lay prone behind the conference table, calmly pulled the trigger, and shot the young guard down. After confirming the threat was over, he quickly got up and decisively fired a shot at each of the two fallen guards.

Then, Beta, gun in hand, slowly walked toward the security door leading to the second floor.

The metal door remained tightly shut, showing no sign of opening. He pressed himself against the wall, concealing himself in a blind spot, his hands firmly holding the pistol, the muzzle always locked on the direction of the security door.

Time ticked by, and only after a full minute had passed, confirming that no one would emerge from behind the door, did Beta finally breathe a sigh of relief and slowly lower his weapon.

Beta ran his fingers over the spot on his chest where he had been hit; the bullet had struck him squarely in the chest, but thankfully the bulletproof plate had worked. Although his ribs hadn't been broken, the ceramic guard was shattered, and he could clearly feel the soft, sunken dent around the bullet with his fingertips.

"Huff—" Beta gasped for breath, gritting his teeth as he forcefully pulled the deformed and twisted bullet out of the insert. He casually tossed the bullet to the ground, making a crisp "clink" sound.

Beta's movements were still somewhat stiff as she turned to walk towards the glass door of the front desk on the first floor.

He carefully locked the glass door from the inside, then tugged on it to make sure it was locked. His gaze swept over the scattered coffee cups and books on the floor, and he kicked them one by one behind the front desk. These movements were swift and efficient, ensuring that nothing seemed amiss from the outside.

The smoke from the gunfight dissipated.

Beta carefully lifted the sniper rifle that was lying flat on the table, his fingertips lightly tracing the cold barrel.

Fortunately, none of the stray bullets fired by the young guard hit the precision weapon. This unexpected stroke of luck even saved Beta the troublesome step of disassembling the glass. He put on gloves and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, shattered by bullets. The laminated glass, though broken, was still held together by thin, interlocking links. Beta grabbed the edge of the crack with both hands and, with a little force, tore open a neat observation port.

Through this man-made firing port, the airport runway 4 kilometers away is clearly visible through the scope, and even the runway indicator lights are in sight.

Beta gently rotated the magnification adjustment ring on the scope, and his field of vision gradually focused on the airport VIP terminal 4332 meters away.

Through the high-powered lens, the dynamics on the tarmac were clearly visible. Dozens of security personnel in black uniforms patrolled back and forth, their figures casting long, thin shadows under the bright lights of the runway.

The camera pans slightly, revealing a convoy of six Mercedes-Benz G-Class SUVs, with a Maybach Pullman extended armored limousine flanking the center.

Beta's gaze lingered on the car door frame, the black border revealing its true nature. Only top-tier bulletproof vehicles would deliberately give such a matte finish to the edges of their thickened bulletproof glass, for aesthetic reasons.

The best time to snipe is just a few seconds when the target walks down the steps of the private plane toward the armored vehicle.

This fleeting shooting window requires not only accurate prediction skills but also a stroke of luck; any slight change could ruin the entire plan.

Beta tapped the trigger guard lightly with his index finger, unsure whether Dassault had arranged a flower-laying ceremony.

He suggested this step to his employer, who only replied with a brief "okay." Now, this unplanned variable has become the biggest uncertainty: if someone does offer flowers, the target's attention might linger for a few seconds longer; if not, everything will proceed as planned.

Those few seconds can be the key to success or failure.

Beta slowed his breathing, the butt of his sniper rifle resting firmly against his shoulder, his entire body like a statue. Through the high-powered scope, his gaze was fixed on the area where the target might appear.

Beta's muscles maintained the most economical exertion state; even his blinks were planned and performed with a specific number of repetitions.

In the dictionary of top snipers, "patience" always comes first. For them, lying in wait for hours is just basic training for a perfect kill, lying in wait for days is routine, and even waiting for weeks is within the normal range.

A biting wind howled past the high-rise building, carrying with it the stench of rotting garbage piled up due to the sanitation workers' strike.

Airflow poured in through the shattered laminated glass window, swirling freely through the meeting room, scattering documents, and ruffling the plastic bags on the tea cabinet with a rustling sound.

As the wind picked up, its sound turned into a mournful wail, whipping Beta's hair, concealing his disguise, wildly and causing his clothes to flutter in the wind. But no matter how fierce the wind raged, Beta remained motionless, like a frozen sculpture, even his breathing maintaining a uniquely restrained rhythm.

In the pitch-black night sky, a private jet with its navigation lights on gracefully extended its wings, swooping down towards the runway like a swan skimming the water. The outline of the fuselage gradually became clear under the runway lights, and it smoothly taxied down the runway with a puff of white smoke.

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I would be extremely grateful for your monthly tickets, recommendation tickets, and continued reading!

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(End of this chapter)