American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 181 The Man Has Been Captured
As the Mercedes-Benz S500 entered the industrial zone, the rusted factory signboard revealed the peeling words "No Entry" under the headlights.

The tires rolled over the broken asphalt road, kicking up clouds of grayish-white dust that swirled in the dim light of the streetlights.

The vehicle cruised slowly, Beta gripping the steering wheel, the blue light from the dashboard illuminating his face. In the passenger seat, Katalia rolled down the window, letting the night wind rush into the cabin, carrying the musty smell of rust and dust.

Her gaze swept over the factories along the way, and she pointed: "Nine o'clock."

The Mercedes turned and stopped in front of a collapsed awning. The faded words "Sherlock Packaging" were still faintly visible on the mottled wall, and there was a crack in the lower right corner of the roller shutter door, indicating that it had been forcibly pried open.

The vehicle slowly drove into the factory gate, its tires crunching over shards of glass, making a crisp cracking sound. The Mercedes stopped in the waist-high weeds, turned off the engine, and the white headlights dimmed, plunging the entire compound into silence. The dashboard needles returned to their positions, and the metallic contraction of the cooling engine compartment began.

Moonlight spilled down, outlining the silhouette of the abandoned conveyor belt, while the rhythmic echo of dripping water hitting iron barrels drifted from afar.

Beta sat in the car, observing his surroundings. He saw a Buick Envision and a Volkswagen Tiguan parked in the abandoned factory in the distance. The black body of the Buick Envision almost blended into the shadows, while the tires of the Volkswagen Tiguan next to it were covered in dried mud.

He took out his phone and dialed Sterling's number. A short while later, Sterling emerged from the abandoned factory and waved to the two people in the car.

Beta opened the car door and casually tucked his pistol into his waistband. Katalia got out of the passenger seat and quickly followed him.

The two pushed open the rusty iron gate and stepped into the abandoned factory.

All the windows were sealed off with thick plastic sheeting, except for two rechargeable lights in the corner, which illuminated a small area like a stage.

Fulton stood in front of a worn wooden table, on which various plumbing tools were scattered haphazardly. He selected them intently, occasionally picking up a wrench or iron bar and swinging it around in the air to test them out.

Fuldi sat slumped on a broken oil drum, dozing against the mottled wall. A faded baseball cap covered his face, rising and falling slightly with his steady breathing.

McCree stood alone in the shadows, smoking, the embers of his cigarette flickering in the darkness. Seeing the two enter, he stubbed out his cigarette and put the butt in his pocket.

The mute man's gaze lingered on Katalia for a moment before turning to Beta, a meaningful smile appearing on his lips.

Sterling led the two to the center of the factory: "Everyone's here, shall we begin?"

Beta nodded slightly.

McCree casually pushed over a dusty iron stool, and Beta glanced at it before calmly sitting down.

Fordy rubbed his sleepy eyes and jumped off the oil drum.

He rolled the oil drum to the center of the factory, lifted the lid, and revealed the person inside: Alan Fabio, the youngest son of the Fabio family.

Allen's eyes were covered by a black cloth, and he was curled up in the small space.

Foldy kicked over the oil drum, and with a dull thud and a short scream, Allen tumbled to the ground in a sorry state. Foldy roughly grabbed his arm and dragged him to an open area.

Allen was wearing only a pair of swimming trunks, his hands were tied behind his back. His pale skin was covered with abrasions and bruises of varying depths, clearly indicating that he had suffered a lot in his previous ordeal.

Fordy grabbed his hair, dragged him to a dilapidated chair, forced him to sit down, and then tied him tightly to the back of the chair with rope.

Fulton grabbed the rusty pipe wrench, pulled on the edge of the blindfold, and yanked it down sharply. Alan was suddenly exposed to the light; his pupils contracted violently, he blinked frantically, and tears streamed uncontrollably from the corners of his eyes.

His eyelids trembled several times before they finally adjusted to the dim light.

Within the limited field of vision, the first thing that came into view was Fulton's approaching face, a strange smile on his lips, his jagged yellow teeth faintly visible under the light, and the pipe wrench in his hand rhythmically tapping against his palm.

Beyond Fulton's shoulder, several blurry figures stood silently in the shadows. Their outlines were softened by the shadows, and one figure leaned against a rusty machine tool, a glowing cigarette butt flickering between his fingers. Beta took out his phone, glancing down to compare the photos. When he confirmed that the trembling young man before him was indeed his target, a soft scoff escaped his throat: "Ha!"

Beta slowly stood up and said to Fulton, "Pry his mouth open."

After saying that, he turned and walked out of the factory. The mute followed him, while Katalia stayed inside the factory.

Beta stood in the tall grass, hands in his coat pockets, gazing up at the night sky. The moon seemed exceptionally small tonight, hanging dimly in the heavens, while the starlight appeared even clearer.

The mute man slowly walked to his side and took a slender women's cigarette from the cigarette case.

She turned to Beta and said, "Can I borrow a light?"

Beta turned his head, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment: "I don't smoke."

The mute man shrugged indifferently and pulled a lighter out of his pocket.

With a snap, an orange flame leaped up, illuminating her lowered eyelashes as she lit the cigarette. She took a deep drag, the burning tobacco hissing softly, the smoke curling and rising in the air, gradually merging into the desolate moonlight.

Alan's screams echoed from inside the factory, interspersed with Fulton's hoarse roar: "Tell me! Where the hell have you been hiding! Why are you hiding! Are you going to talk or not!"

Then came another wail.

Beta stood silently in the night, gazing up at the slender crescent moon in the sky; the sounds from the factory were merely background noise. The mute man beside him exhaled smoke rings.

When the mute man had smoked down to just a little bit of his cigarette, she slowly spoke: "Aren't you the 'Mr. Hat'?"

Beta turned his head to the side: "Does it matter?"

The mute man shook his head slightly and exhaled a wisp of smoke: "It's not important. I just think you're very interesting."

She paused for a moment, then said, "Really, you're like someone who's hiding countless secrets."

Beta's gaze lingered on her face, and the mute couldn't help but chuckle softly: "Don't look at me like that. I was just saying it casually."

She flicked her cigarette ash: "Who you are is none of my business. You pay, we do the work, that's all there is to our relationship. I just want to figure out who I'm working for."

Beta nodded slightly: "A very reasonable relationship."

The mute man let out a soft hum through his nose: "Hmm."

Beta's gaze drifted into the distance: "Has your grand plan been implemented?"

The mute woman exhaled a wisp of smoke: "It didn't work. The FBI is watching me, and I'm afraid I'll never be able to do anything again." Her tone carried a hint of regret, mixed with a sense of relief.

Beta smiled and said, "It's better if we don't do it. Only you guys could come up with such a crazy plan as robbing the United Reserve's gold."

The mute man suddenly turned to look at him: "How did you know?"

Beta continued gazing into the distance: "What the FBI can know, I can naturally know too."

(End of this chapter)