American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 139 Transaction Completed
The Audi A8's tires crunched over the gravel in the yard, making a crisp, clattering sound. The headlights illuminated the dilapidated corrugated iron shed, its sheet metal trembling slightly in the night wind, creaking and groaning.

"Wow!" Fulton was the first to jump out of the car, bending down dramatically to open the driver's side door like an overly excited parking attendant. He kicked up a pile of gravel, his camouflage pants still stained with gunpowder from the previous gunfight.

"Dear Mr. Assassin, your private parking service is available!" he said in a strange tone, and even made a comical bowing gesture.

Foldi struggled to open the passenger door, his face pale. His feet were on the gravel, but his backside was still reluctant to leave the leather seat, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"Damn, this is even more thrilling than a roller coaster!" He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his churning stomach. The night breeze brushed against his sweat-soaked head, bringing a touch of coolness.

Beta stepped out of the car with a blank expression, his feet firmly planted on the ground. He walked straight toward the two-story red brick factory building.

Fulton skipped and hopped along beside Beta like a child.

"I've really fallen for you!" he exclaimed, gesturing wildly. "You're crazy! You're ruthless! You're fierce! You're exciting!"

He leaned closer to Beta's face, his heavy breath carrying the scent of whiskey: "We're a match made in heaven!"

Beta didn't stop walking, only nodding slightly: "Not as crazy as you. You're the craziest person in Los Angeles."

A few barks came from afar, and the night wind rustled the corrugated iron sheet of the shed. Fuldi finally recovered and trudged to catch up with the two, still muttering curses under his breath about the damned street racing.

Beta stepped onto the second floor and saw Sterling standing at the top of the stairs.

Sterling watched Beta and his entourage walk upstairs, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Well done. McCree is already back. Once you arrive, we can settle the bill and complete this deal."

Beta nodded slightly and walked straight to the planning room. Pushing open the door, Fulton leaned back lazily in his chair, Fowdy sat beside him, and McCree nodded to Beta.

Without saying much, Beta walked directly to the main seat at the front of the room.

"Enough with the pleasantries." Beta looked around at everyone. "My mission is complete. For confidentiality reasons, the funds will be transferred to Sterling. You can collect them directly from him."

He paused, then continued, "The original agreed-upon reward was 15,000 per person, but this collaboration went very smoothly, so I've decided to add another 5,000 for everyone. Now it's 20,000 per person, and I'll transfer the money to Sterling right now."

Fulton immediately whistled excitedly and shouted, "Wow! That's five thousand more than we agreed on!"

Foldy nodded seriously in agreement, while McCree stared silently at Beta, his eyes scrutinizing her, seemingly plotting something.

Beta didn't say anything more, turning to Sterling: "The matter is settled, I should go now, goodbye."

Sterling followed him out of the factory, and the two stood in the dark courtyard.

A cool night breeze blew as Sterling lowered his voice and said, "You're really skilled, almost as good as a mute. How about it, interested in joining our next big operation?"

Beta stopped and turned to Sterling, her tone calm yet firm: "I have my own plans, so I won't interfere in your actions. Goodbye."

Sterling didn't press the matter, simply nodding slightly: "It's been a pleasure working together. I hope we'll have the opportunity again in the future."

Beta gave a brief reply: "No problem."

After saying that, his figure disappeared into the night.
-
New York, late at night. Beta dragged his weary body through the villa door. The house was silent except for the echo of his footsteps in the empty living room. He tossed his luggage aside and sank heavily into the sofa.

The moment the TV screen lit up after the remote control was pressed, a breaking news report was broadcast: "A witness under heavy security protection by the Los Angeles Police Department has been murdered."

Beta stared at the television screen.

In the footage, a police car, crushed into scrap metal by a heavy truck, lies twisted and across the middle of the road. The doors are dented and deformed, and the windshield is shattered into a spiderweb pattern. Inside, the bodies of two police officers lie askew on their seats, blood dripping from the gaps in the deformed doors.

The camera then pans to a close-up of the witness's body. His body is riddled with bullet holes, and dark blood has seeped into the asphalt.

Not far away, a garbage truck was parked crookedly on the side of the road, its door also covered with bullet holes, and the metal around the bullet holes still showed fresh scratches.

The entire street was a mess: scattered shell casings reflected the cold light in the sunlight, police light shards and glass fragments were mixed in with the blood, and several blood-stained documents, blown by the wind, lay beside the police cordon.

"You're back?" Katalia's voice came from the bottom of the stairs, sounding sleepy.

Beta looked up and saw her standing at the corner of the stairs, a dark red silk nightgown draped down to her ankles. The dim yellow light from the wall lamp behind her cast a hazy glow, making her seem like a phantom emerging from the shadows.

"Hmm," he replied briefly.

Katalia walked barefoot across the cool marble floor, her silk pajamas swaying gently with each step. She took a bottle of ice water from the refrigerator, water droplets sliding down the bottle and leaving damp marks on her fingertips.

"Are you hurt?" She placed the water on the coffee table, where it made a crisp sound as it hit the marble.

Beta unscrewed the cap, tilted his head back, and took a large gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with each swallow. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and forced a smile: "Obviously not. I'm not as unlucky as you, having an unreliable boyfriend who got chased to my house by the FBI."

Katalia chuckled softly at his words, her fingertips tracing the silk belt of her pajamas: "If you have the energy to make fun of me, then nothing's wrong."

Outside the window, the New York night was quiet, with the occasional sound of police sirens in the distance.

Beta squeezed the empty water bottle so hard it made a cracking sound, the plastic deforming between his fingers.

“The witness in Los Angeles has run into trouble. The case will be reopened in 15 days at most. Don Louis must leave the estate to testify in court.” He looked directly at Katalia: “How are your injuries? Are you able to move?”

Katalia's fingers rested on the neckline of her silk pajamas, slowly lifting a corner.

Under the moonlight, the wound on her left shoulder had just healed, and the pink scar looked like a twisted snake.

"The bandages were just removed." Her tone was uncertain: "I'm not sure if I can..."

Beta's gaze lingered on the scar for a moment before shifting away, and he took out his phone.

“Then I’ll have to contact Sterling again.” He quickly scrolled through his contacts: “Hire those three people from him again.”

(End of this chapter)