What the hell is a private enterprise?

Chapter 678 Knowing everything
As an experienced detective, Jones knew he had been shot when his shoulder went numb, but he still tried to protect the "big fish" first. However, when he turned around, the latter's head was already blooming with a second flower of blood.

After the middle-aged man collapsed, he felt a warm sensation on his neck again, and the woman also collapsed on top of him.

At this moment, all the surrounding agents reacted and immediately tumbled inwards to protect the three people from all angles before grabbing them and quickly moving them down to hide behind the bulletproof car.

A piercing pain shot through Jones, causing him to let out a muffled groan. Only then did his mind return to what had just happened:

The first bullet grazed his left cheek. When he sensed the gust of wind, he instinctively made an evasive maneuver, trying to tackle the middle-aged man behind him.

The agents had been cautious enough in surrounding him, but the slope of the gangway left a gap of about half a head in front of him, which was the fatal bullet hole.

The first two bullets arrived almost simultaneously, one entering through the forehead and the other through the cheek, instantly ending the "big fish's" life.

The third bullet was aimed at his chest, but Jones turned his head and used his shoulder to block the shot, which did not prevent the fourth and fifth bullets from hitting the woman's chest.

The destructive power of the 7.62x54R full-power round is not that of a civilian small-caliber round; it is much more powerful than an AK round.

Both targets had completely lost their vital signs, and Jones had a terrible gash on his shoulder.

After the accompanying agent gave him an injection of morphine, he stuffed a large wad of gauze into his arm. Whether it was the effect of adrenaline or morphine, Jones didn't feel too much pain. Just as he was about to continue directing the operation, he discovered that he couldn't lift his injured right arm at all.

"Detective, your shoulder blade is fractured! The apex of your lung may also be damaged. You must go to the hospital immediately. How are you feeling?"

Jones frowned slightly, about to scold the guy for making too loud noise and hurting his ears, but found that all he could manage to utter was a hoarse growl, and his lips felt itchy as if there were bubbles.

He lost consciousness the next moment.

The accompanying agents knew the worst had happened; the bullet had affected the lungs. They administered another injection of adrenaline before continuing treatment.

Fortunately, to protect the big fish, there was an ambulance in the convoy of cars that came to pick them up, and Jones underwent emergency surgery in the car in the shortest possible time.

After Jones left, Smith took charge on-site. After being recalled from his post, he was promoted by half a rank to become a deputy detective. He didn't have much real power before, but now he was the highest-ranking person on-site, and everyone was looking at him with anticipation.

"What are you still hiding behind the car for? The enemy has already escaped and is being chased by the cops!"

Smith glared at the crowd in exasperation and shouted:
"This is an airport. We can just send a helicopter to chase them. Do you think a car can be faster than a plane?!"

The group then seemed to wake up from a dream and went to look for the helicopter, but Smith did not go, citing the need to take charge of the overall situation. Instead, he silently looked at the distant hillside.

The terrain around Sparks Airport is very flat, and there are basically no high points within two kilometers that are suitable for sniping. The intelligence agency took this into account when selecting the new alternate airport.

The nearest point in the direction of the attacker was at least 3.5 kilometers away, and combined with the reflection from that scope, it was definitely not wrong.

A sniper who can kill someone in the head with a single shot from 3.5 kilometers away, and fire multiple bullets in rapid succession?

Smith himself happened to be a sniper, and during the South Pacific operation he was prepared to return to his old profession, so he knew what that meant.

The current world record for long-range sniping is 31 years ago during the Annam War, when a sniper rifle modified from an M2 "Lao Gan Ma" hit its target at 2286 meters.

The effective sniping range in conventional combat is usually within 800 meters. At 1500 meters, a person's head in an 8x scope is only the size of a dot. To accurately hit someone in a narrow window at 3500 meters is simply beyond the limits of human capability.

At this distance, the bullet takes nearly 4.5 seconds to fly, and even a slight breeze can cause the point of impact to deviate significantly!
This has nothing to do with technology anymore; even if Simon Hayes were alive today, he would have to gamble with luck!
Just now, it was confirmed that the assassin fled on the highway in a Dodge Challenger. It was also learned that before the assassination, the person sped 400 kilometers from San Francisco at a speed between 200 and 390 km/h, leaving the California wedding car convoy at the border of Nevada. Then, taking advantage of the gap when the Nevada State Police arrived, the assassin set up a position to kill the person and then calmly left.

Even Sylvester Stallone wouldn't dare to film like this!

According to reports from California authorities, at least two people were found inside the vehicle during the chase, which means the sharpshooter was likely to return fire during the pursuit—and if it were him (or her), it is entirely possible that he or she could have hit the helicopter in the air while it was moving.

Moreover, most commercial helicopters can't fly at speeds of more than 400 kilometers per hour, so it's hard to say whether they can catch up with the other side.

Smith had no interest in provoking such a formidable man. He made up an excuse to stay before starting to search the abandoned man and woman on the ground.

The result was naturally fruitless; at least, he didn't get the important information he had imagined. It seems that it had indeed disappeared along with that half of the skull.

It was that woman who caught his eye a few more times. This swallow was originally trained by KBG, but was abandoned by KBG after being exposed. However, in order to save herself, she contacted the subordinate organization of IAA. She just didn't expect to be protected by the man. From then on, she seemed to focus on being a secretary and not serve any organization until recently when she took the initiative to contact them.

If I survive, I can probably earn a substantial retirement fund by writing my autobiography.

Smith lost interest in the two utterly meaningless men and jumped into the car as they were being put into body bags.

……

Intercontinental Highway 80

Sheriff Matthews has encountered the most terrifying opponent of his life.

他驾驶的是一辆已经停产、但此时属于同行中最艳羡雪佛兰 Caprice 9C1，搭载5.7升V8发动机，原厂马力达到了惊人的260匹，扭矩超过450N·M。

What's even more interesting is that his car was seized from a biker gang and has been extensively modified, boasting over 480 horsepower and an enhanced gearbox that allows it to reach a top speed of 300 kilometers per hour.

This signature car, paired with Pit King Matthews, firmly cemented his title as the "Nevada Cowboy," ensuring that no speeding offender could ever escape his clutches.

However, he had already floored the accelerator, and the supercharger was compressing air into the engine with a sharp screech. Taking advantage of the openness of Highway 80, he managed to speed up to a terrifying 280 km/h, but he could only watch in despair as the challenger ahead receded further and further away.

Even though Highway 80 is straight and has little traffic, the other vehicle was definitely traveling at over 300 kilometers per hour. Even a small pebble could cause a fatal accident.

To make matters worse, his teammates told him that the driver of that car had only taken 2 hours and 10 minutes to get from San Francisco to Sparks, which meant he was traveling at an average speed of 185 kilometers per hour and was mostly traveling at speeds of over 250 kilometers per hour. This meant that no one in the California team could keep up with him for even a minute, and they had to rely on a relay race to keep track of his movements.

Fortunately, although the opponent was formidable, there happened to be a television helicopter filming news near Sparks that day. They had wanted to report on the challenger's first race but had to give up because the California team lost their target. Upon learning that the opponent had returned to the scene, they immediately came to support him and connected to the police channel.

"Hey, hey, hey? Viewers all over Nevada and across the United States, did you see that? Below us is Mr. Matthews, the ace known as the 'Nevada Cowboy.' I bet many of our local friends have been pushed by him. Now he's here to rescue and hunt down the toughest speeder we know, Mr. Challenger!"

Matthews, who was completely focused on the pursuit, gritted his teeth. This despicable reporter claimed to be providing information, but in reality, he was using the opportunity to broadcast live and earn ratings. He was so annoyed that he simply turned off the radio.

The maneuver caused him to veer slightly off the lane and nearly scrape the curb. By the time he realized what was happening, the wretched Challenger was just a tiny dot in sight!

"Abalijena! (Обалденно, that's awesome!)"

Kronstadt gripped the steering wheel tightly. The feeling of being chased and driven at high speed in a foreign country as a super agent activated her deepest genetic code, and her face showed only endless excitement and thrill.

But Tang Wen had already used a drone to scout the road ahead and reminded her:

"Several trucks have blocked the ramp and main road nine kilometers ahead. Get off the highway at the ramp ahead."

Bumblebee did as instructed automatically, while Kronstadt, oblivious to his own limitations, continued to shout:
"Commander, you must reward me! I'm going to lock you up in that hell for a whole month!" Tang Wen: "..."

In the blurred chat box in the lower left corner, the other three ship girls are frantically typing various ** characters.

Ignoring Kronstadt's words of despair, Tang Wen proceeded with the plan:

"Next, after about 20 minutes of following the route, you will arrive at a broken bridge under construction. You can abandon the car there, then fight back for a while, pretend to be injured and unable to fight back, and jump into the river. This river leads directly to a large lake more than ten kilometers away. This way, not only will they be unable to find the right diagnosis, but they will also have a chance to see your facial features clearly... Finally, remember to shout 'Suka' a few times."

"Wouldn't doing this make them suspect the polar bear?"

The white-haired agent in the mission was very intelligent and immediately raised a question.

"They don't need to believe it; it's just an excuse."

Tang Wen knew that the empire's suspicions could not be dispelled, but Kronstadt's actions prevented them from finding any concrete evidence, which was already the best possible outcome.

Moreover, it wasn't just a simple matter of Kronstadt showing his face. Meanwhile, someone in the intelligence circle had already announced that the sniping operation was actually a personal revenge against "Swallow," and the people around were purely accidental. Anyway, someone claimed responsibility for the outcome.

The Prism Building may still firmly believe that Kronstadt is actually a Russian woman disguised as Hans, but isn't that a form of deterrence?
Just like the wife in the bedroom already knew that the son-in-law who pushed open the door had discovered something, but deliberately left Old Wang's Land Rover key on the bedside table. When the son-in-law saw that he was a powerful older brother, he could only be angry but dared not speak out. At most, he could make some harsh words but dared not search the drawers.

Kronstadt's slightly inhuman yet potentially human-limited actions place the assassin's identity in an uncertain quantum superposition state between the Lost Empire and the non-Lost Empire.

This also expresses an attitude:

That's enough. We can't delve too deeply into this matter. If we find anything wrong, it won't benefit any of the three of us.

Tang Wen believed that Prism Building could understand it.

……

Prism Building
At 11:40 a.m., news came from Nevada:
"After a fierce battle and the desperate efforts of many brothers, we wounded the assassin, but she jumped into the river and went missing. During the battle, she showed half of her face and hair, and she looked a lot like a Russian girl!"

When the briefing was placed on the table of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the people who had been waiting for news all morning looked at each other in bewilderment, but no one spoke first.

Just half an hour after the attack, rumors circulated in intelligence circles that a former KBG boss claimed his "Natasha" had betrayed him and that he had plotted revenge, taking out another one as a warning to his potential enemies.

"A trick to fool ghosts."

Rams practically spat out those words, then immediately launched into a cold laugh:
"A rapid-fire shot from 3,500 meters, hitting all targets, resulting in two deaths and one injury—I only know of one type of person who could accomplish that: superhumans piloting dilapidated mechanically driven planes through the waves."

Such a person would actually jump into the river as a suicide bomber... Ha!

After he started, people began to condemn such dark behavior, but those who were observant could soon realize that everyone was just cursing and hurling insults, without mentioning how to retaliate.

3500 meters, five rapid-fire shots!

Prism Building consulted several elite snipers, and the answers were surprisingly consistent: only three people said "it's worth a try," but it would require top-of-the-line equipment and prior reconnaissance of the location and environment, and at most, they could only target the torso; headshots were out of the question.

As for five rapid-fire shots? God, it's impossible to maintain accuracy that way—that's the exact quote.

The autopsy results and bullet testing indicated that it was a 7.62x54R full-power round. The initial guess is that it might be a modified SVD sniper rifle. As for the Mosin-Nagant... impossible, the only result of such a fast bolt-action is that the mechanism would jam.

The only other option is PKM, which makes it even less likely.

Our team's elites believe that this "super Russian girl" will be the undisputed number one in the industry, and will be far ahead of the second place.

If she really is Hans Superman or a clone, everyone at Prism Building will really be living in fear from now on.

After all, the Lost Empire takes this kind of work without any burden, and no one wants to become the next target.

Rams quickly realized what everyone was thinking but was helpless, while Kazimirz on the other side actually breathed a sigh of relief.

After the "big fish" was intercepted, the empire immediately went into a higher level of emergency response, ordering the entire territory to be on high alert and issuing a series of strong statements to the outside world, seemingly in a fit of rage.

But in reality, there's no way to verify anything now, which in itself demonstrates a certain attitude.

KBG's revenge is pure nonsense, and the fact that Tokyo University could assemble such an overpowered sniper in such a short time means that the only one who can actually take action is the Lost Empire.

The thought of fearless Hans snipers lurking in every corner sent chills down Kazimirz's spine; it was a truly terrifying thought.

He shook his head to shake off the creepy feeling and got up to go and consult with the president's staff again.

But before he could leave, he was stopped by his bodyguard:
“I’m sorry, Mr. Kazimirz, the security requirements have just been updated. You need to check the surrounding 3.5-kilometer radius before you can travel.”

Kazimirz: "..."

……

Broken Bridge

The smell of gunpowder had dissipated, and Matthews leaned against the broken-down Chevrolet, staring blankly at the river below the bridge.

The bureau chief came over to try and comfort him, but the latter unexpectedly said:
"This car is not enough; its modification potential is far less than that of the Challenger."

"It's not your fault, Matthew, you're already the best."

"Chief, I want to drive the Challenger."

"I'll get you a Ford."

"I want to drive a Challenger!"

"How about we get you a Colt? A custom-made one."

"I want to drive a Challenger!"

"You would have been dead long ago if you had driven that car. That woman is different."

"I'm going to drive the Challenger! Only a challenger can beat another challenger!"

(End of this chapter)