American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 73 Vacation
The morning sunlight streamed through the window, and Beta, with her messy hair, opened the door.

On the bedroom door of Matilda across the hall, there hangs a comically shaped woodpecker alarm clock. It mechanically stretches and retracts its neck, first pecking at the door a few times, then emitting a piercing "beep beep beep" alarm sound, and then continuing to peck at the door.

This whimsical alarm clock is clearly fulfilling its waking-up service diligently.

But clearly, the alarm clock disturbed Beta, who was still asleep, far too early.

He grabbed the mechanical neck of the woodpecker alarm clock, silencing the noise, and then banged on the door: "Matilda, what made you put this alarm clock outside your room? It woke me up!"

The sound of slippers slid around in the room. Matilda rubbed her sleepy eyes and opened the door. Her bedroom was a veritable red kingdom: lace curtains, a plush carpet, and a wardrobe covered in stickers. And in the most prominent position on the desk sat the Paddington Bear plush toy that Beta had won with an air gun.

The little girl, still half asleep, mumbled something, completely unaware of her "crime" of disturbing others' peaceful dreams.

She casually left the door wide open, then flopped back onto the bed, sinking into the fluffy blankets: "It's a woodpecker, after all. Of course, it should knock from the outside to make a proper impression."

Beta was speechless at this illogical explanation.

He leaned against the door frame, looking around the newly renovated room. The space that used to be cluttered with miscellaneous items had now been transformed into a dreamy world for girls: lace bed curtains, a wardrobe covered with posters, and a mountain of dolls piled up in the corner.

"Now that we've set the alarm," Beta asked, "shouldn't we get up?"

Matilda reluctantly sat up: "Close the door for me, I need to change my clothes."

Beta shook her head, gently closed the door, and returned to her room.

The sound of running water soon filled the air at the sink, and a new day began.
-

Medvedeva stood in front of the broken French windows of the AAA security company building, the cold wind howling in through the gaps in the glass, ruffling the stray hairs on her forehead.

The professional observation mirror set up in front of the window clearly reflects the airport runway 4332 meters away, the cordon, police cars, and the figures of French security agents, with every detail clearly visible.

She stared at the scene reflected in the scope, the wind whistling in her ears. No more evidence was needed; besides Beta, there was no one else in the world capable of a sniper kill at this distance.

"Sir," the deputy's voice came from behind, "the French are only willing to provide this basic information and are refusing us access to the airport."

Medvedeva took the file box: "When you're on someone else's turf, you have to follow their rules."

She changed the subject: "You really think I brought you to France to investigate a case?"

The deputy looked puzzled: "Isn't he the superior?"

“MI6 is a volcano right now.” Medvedeva looked out the window. “The top leadership is undergoing a major reshuffle, and I’m bringing you out here to avoid the storm.”

She turned to her deputy and said, "We'll go back once things have settled down. No matter who wins or loses, it won't affect us."

Medvedeva carefully examined the documents, then looked up and asked, "Did Beta fire two shots?"

The deputy immediately responded: "Yes, sir. The first shot was aimed at the gangway, and the second shot pierced through the waist of a security guard before hitting the target."

“With β’s marksmanship, it’s impossible for him to miss. What happened with the first shot?” Medved continued to press, while quickly glancing at the documents in her hand.

The deputy explained in detail: "The target suddenly stopped on the gangway and stood there for a few seconds, asking the security team to switch the Mercedes to a Land Rover. At that moment, β's first shot hit a bodyguard in the middle of the gangway."

Medvedeva nodded thoughtfully: "So the first shot was fired by β based on prediction, but the few seconds the target paused caused the bullet to miss its intended location and hit the bodyguard instead."

"Yes, sir." The deputy nodded firmly in confirmation.

Medvedeva stared at the photo in the file, her fingertips lightly tracing the image of the target lying inside the car: "The angle of the second shot was indeed tricky."

She looked up: "The bullet went through the security guard's waist and then hit the target's carotid artery?"

“Yes, sir,” the deputy replied.

Medvedeva walked to the sights and looked out at the airport in the distance through the lens. Her voice was low: “Incredible. In this environment, with its changeable winds, drastic humidity fluctuations, and extreme temperature differences, he managed to snipe from 4332 meters away with just two shots.” She paused: “He’s still inhuman.”

She straightened up from in front of the sight glass and turned to her co-driver: "Do you know how big that car door looks from here?"

The deputy shook his head.

Medvedeva pulled out a photograph of the abandoned CheyTac M200 sniper rifle: "If you look at it with the scope on his rifle at maximum magnification, that car door..."

She held out her palm: "It's only this big."

The deputy stared at her palm.

Medvedeva pondered for a moment, then spread her fingers and gestured: "About a D cup."

The deputy took a deep breath and nodded slowly: "He is indeed extraordinary."

Medvedeva gave her deputy a meaningful look: "Are you very sensitive about bra size?"

The deputy lowered his head slightly, looking a little uneasy: "Professionalism."

Medvedeva raised an eyebrow: "Your girlfriend has a D-cup?"

The deputy stammered, "Uh, more or less."

Medvedeva nodded knowingly: "No wonder you're so familiar with this size."

She closed the file box and handed it to her deputy: "Keep this safe. You are all my trusted confidants, so let's study it together."

She tapped her fingertips lightly on the box lid twice: "How do I turn this pile of data into a report that looks detailed and comprehensive but is actually just so-so, so I can report back to my superiors?"

"So what do we do now, sir?" the deputy asked.

Medvedeva crossed her arms over her chest: "Now? Go ask the French security services for two cars. Tell them we need to go out for an investigation, and ask if they want someone to accompany us."

"Where exactly should we investigate, sir?" The deputy put the file box away.

"We go to places with beautiful scenery to conduct research."

The deputy was speechless for a moment.

Medvedeva continued, "In the Elliott case, did Beta test the gun at the duck hunting grounds beforehand?"

"Yes, sir." The deputy nodded in confirmation.

“Use this reason. We suspect that β may have conducted gun test firings and calibrations in the wild, and we need to conduct an on-site investigation. Ask them to provide two vehicles,” Medvedeva decided.

"Sir, what should we do?" The deputy was still somewhat hesitant.

“Of course it’s a vacation,” Medvedeva said matter-of-factly. “It’s all paid for by the government, and I have a diplomatic passport, so I can go wherever I want in France. I’ll take you to see the famous lavender fields in Provence; I’ve heard they’re absolutely gorgeous.”

What about the case?

"The case? Let's wait until those big shots at the top finish their infighting." Medvedeva turned to look out the window, her tone laced with sarcasm. "Anyway, what the higher-ups really care about is never the truth, is it?"

The deputy nodded thoughtfully.

“What’s the point of us investigating so thoroughly?” Medvedeva turned around. “It just adds more chips to their power game.”

She walked towards the door. "Come on, I'll show you the real France."

(End of this chapter)