American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 141 Returning to Los Angeles

Five days later, at Los Angeles International Airport.

Beta pushed her luggage cart through the crowded arrival hall, followed by an inconspicuous black woman—Catalia in disguise.

The heavy fillers altered her body shape, the silicone pads reshaped her facial contours, and even her gait became the slow, deliberate gait typical of middle-aged women.

This disguise perfectly fooled the FBI's surveillance cameras at the airport.

"Don't look around," Beta said in a low voice. He subtly scanned his surroundings, his eyes behind his sunglasses warily observing every corner.

Katalia obediently lowered her head. They moved slowly in the flow of the tour group, and no one gave the two of them a second glance.

Beta hadn't expected to return to this place of trouble so soon. The airport's television screens were broadcasting local news, and he could vaguely hear words like "witness protection program" and "investigation progress."

Beta led Katalia through the airport parking lot, the afternoon sun casting waves of heat on the asphalt. They stopped in front of parking space number 23 in section B, where a low-key black Mercedes-Benz E-Class stood.

“Wait a minute,” Beta said in a low voice, crouching down as he reached into a groove inside the rear wheel hub and pulled out a dusty magnetic key case.

Katalia stood to the side, her wide, printed skirt swaying slightly in the hot wind.

The key was inserted into the lock, and the headlights flashed twice.

Katalia awkwardly shuffled into the leather seat: "This old-fashioned way of hiding keys is definitely your style."

The hum of the engine starting was drowned out by the noise of people in the parking lot.

Beta adjusted the rearview mirror, which reflected several ordinary passengers loading their luggage behind them, as well as the glass curtain wall of the terminal building in the distance.

He lightly pressed the accelerator, and the black sedan slowly drove out of the parking lot, merging into the traffic heading to downtown Los Angeles.

Beta tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, his gaze sweeping over Katalia's disguised face.

“I’ll arrange for you to stay in the safe house first. Then I’ll contact Sterling.” Beta skillfully maneuvered the Mercedes, changing lanes to avoid a slow-moving truck. “Honestly, you didn’t have to come. I could have handled this with those few men.”

Katalia adjusted her wig, but her voice held a hint of stubbornness: "You know I won't let you take the risk alone. Besides, this involves Don Louis. The whole thing is because of me, and I can't just sit on the sofa and wait. I'm going to kill him myself to avenge my parents."

Beta didn't respond immediately, but simply turned the air conditioning down a notch. Cold air blew out of the vents, carrying away the stuffy air inside the car.

"Suit yourself," Beta said, his tone tinged with helplessness. "But remember, if the situation changes, you must evacuate immediately."

Katalia nodded slightly: "I understand. My current injuries don't allow me to push myself."

A black Mercedes slowly drove into a modern apartment building.

This is a high-rise building located in a middle-class neighborhood in Los Angeles, with its 20th-floor glass curtain wall reflecting sunlight. Beta parked his car in the ground-level visitor parking space, turned off the engine, and carefully surveyed his surroundings. The design, with only one duplex penthouse per floor, ensured the privacy of the residents, and the smart access control and 24-hour security at the lobby entrance met his requirements.

"We're here." Beta unbuckled his seatbelt and gestured for Katalia to wait a moment.

He got out of the car first and went around to the trunk to retrieve his luggage, while simultaneously observing the security cameras in the parking lot. A man in a delivery uniform pushed a cart past them; Beta slightly shifted his body to the side, blocking the deliveryman's view and shielding Katalia behind him. A blast of cool air hit them in the elevator lobby. Beta swiped his pre-prepared access card to open the private elevator. The LCD screen showed that the elevator went directly to the 18th floor—a height high enough to overlook the entire community without being difficult to evacuate in an emergency.
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The setting sun bathed the corrugated iron roofs of the red brick factory in a red glow.

Beta drove his black Mercedes slowly into the gravel-paved yard, the tires making a soft, crackling sound as they rolled over the pebbles. His gaze was immediately drawn to the conspicuous white Rolls-Royce Ghost SUV.

The pure white body, gold waistline, and blacked-out privacy windows made this expensive vehicle stand out starkly against the backdrop of the dilapidated industrial area, parked next to the black Mercedes van that Beta knew all too well.

After the engine was turned off, only the crunching sound of gravel under the tires remained in the yard. Beta's fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel.

Beta pushed open the car door, his leather shoes stepping onto the gravel ground, when he heard a "whoosh" behind him. He turned around abruptly, his right hand already drawing the pistol from his waist.

The factory's weathered wooden and glass door was roughly pushed open, and Fulton's perpetually manic smile peeked out. The afternoon sun shone on his toothless grin, and his dirty vest collar was stained with suspicious brown dirt.

"Ha! Look who's here!" Fulton shouted in an exaggerated theatrical voice, skipping across the gravel ground. Each time his shoes landed, they kicked up a scattering of pebbles, a few of which even bounced onto the door of the white Rolls-Royce.

Beta holstered the pistol back into its lower back, the leather making a slight rustling sound as it rubbed against the holster.

He gestured with his chin toward the white luxury car: "Whose is this flashy Rolls-Royce?"

Fulton trotted over, kicking at the gravel, his dirty work pants stained with grime. “The mute’s new toy. You’ve come at the right time; we’re all inside.”

He gestured with his thumb toward the factory building as he spoke.

Beta followed Fulton up the rusty iron staircase. The planning room on the second floor was crowded. Through the half-open door, they could see Sterling hunched over a table covered with drawings, Fowdy sprawled on a sofa in the corner playing on his phone, and McCree standing by the window smoking.

When Beta pushed open the door, his gaze was drawn to the figure at the other end of the room.

The mute woman leaned against the filing cabinet. This time, she had dyed her hair platinum blonde and cut it into a neat wolf tail bob. Her form-fitting black pencil skirt revealed glimpses of her thighs through the slit, and the snake tattoo we'd seen before seemed to have taken on a new form.

Fuldi looked up from his phone screen and smiled, "Hi!" He casually tossed his phone onto the sofa with a soft "thud."

McCree stood by the window, gesturing with his chin to Beta, cigarette smoke swirling in front of him.

Sterling frantically gathered the drawings from the table, pressing the edges down with his old flip phone: "Ha!"

He pushed up his glasses, which had slipped down to the tip of his nose: "Tell me, what big deal is it this time? Just a heads up."

He rubbed his fingers together: "The commission rate has gone up."

Beta looked around the room, his gaze lingering briefly on each person: "3 each, the same old lineup, Fulton, McCree, and Little Fu."

Sterling shrugged. "I thought you'd want to hire a mute." He glanced meaningfully at the corner of the room.

Beta's gaze shifted to the mute woman leaning against the filing cabinet. Her platinum blonde short hair shimmered in the sunlight.
"3 yuan." Beta chuckled. "I'm afraid that won't be enough to hire this lady."

“Obviously,” the mute man replied without looking up.

(End of this chapter)