American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 97 Encounter

In the end, he simply said, "Be careful. When you get back to New York, don't let those gangsters break into your house in the middle of the night again, okay?"

His voice carried a deliberate lightness: "I don't want to play with you anymore, that kind of rough work of face-to-face shooting."

After hanging up, Beta tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and refocused his gaze on the road ahead. He didn't tell John that he was also in New York at that moment.
-
In New York's Central Park, the afternoon sun shines through the treetops onto the cobblestone path.

Beta, camera in hand, blended naturally into the back of a tour group. He would occasionally raise his camera to photograph the scenery, and sometimes look down at the photos, his every move indistinguishable from the other tourists.

This world-famous city park is 4023 meters long from north to south and 805 meters wide from east to west, covering an area of ​​3.4 square kilometers. Beta's gaze swept past the bustling crowd and settled on the permanent lecture stage enclosed by a fence in the distance.

The target, with the cornrow hair and red nose, will give a speech here.

Standing at the edge of the crowd, Beta casually surveyed the stage structure: a forward-extending canopy supported by steel trusses, metal staircases on both sides, the stage facing north with a wide open lawn behind it.

He adjusted the camera's focus, capturing every detail—the positions of security personnel, the angles of surveillance cameras, and possible entry and exit routes.

The tourists' actions of taking photos of each other and their cheerful laughter perfectly concealed his behavior.

Beta turned his back to the stage, raised his camera and aimed it at the distant buildings, wanting to photograph a few possible sniping positions. Suddenly, a woman's face entered the viewfinder.

The woman looked surprised in the camera lens and waved to him. He slowly put down the camera, and a dark-haired woman quickly walked up to him.

"Hi! Ellen!" she greeted warmly, her eyes filled with the joy of reunion.

Beta calmly sized up the other person, who had shoulder-length black hair, was about 170 centimeters tall, and wore a women's watch on her left wrist.

As he was quickly searching his memory, the woman continued on her own: "Do you remember me? We met at customs at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, and we even took flight AF388 to New York together."

Her tone carried a hint of complaint: "We agreed to add each other as Facebook friends, but you haven't accepted my request yet."

Beta noticed that she habitually tucked her hair behind her ear when she spoke, a subtle gesture that awakened his memory.

After his mission in Paris, to ensure a smooth departure, he did deliberately approach a group of American tourists. Using the alias "Allen," he infiltrated the tour group, using the unsuspecting tourists as cover to successfully evade checks set up by French security services at customs.

They enthusiastically helped him fill out forms, shared his luggage, and even invited this "lone American compatriot" to travel with them, completely unaware that they had become part of his plan.

Beta's face lit up with a perfectly timed look of realization: "Ah, Monica, right?"

His tone carried a hint of uncertainty, yet also a familiarity, as if he had never forgotten the name.

Monica's eyes lit up, and she nodded with slight surprise: "Yes, it's me."

Her voice held a hint of surprise: "I never expected you to remember my name."

Beta's smile deepened, a perfectly timed nostalgia in her eyes: "How is your brother Ross? And your group of friends?"

He paused deliberately, as if recalling something: "I remember Rachel Green too? Didn't she say she was going to come to you? You two should still be together, right?"

As these names flowed naturally from his lips, the memories of the Paris customs officials finally surfaced completely. The faces of those overly enthusiastic American tourists became clear again.

Beta turned off the camera, screwed on the lens cap, and made a gesture as if he was about to catch up with an old friend, but Monica's next reaction was intriguing.

“Rachel,” Monica’s voice softened, her gaze drifting toward the west side of the park. “Actually, I just came from her side. She’s working as a waitress at Central Park Cafe now.”

She gestured hurriedly, her speech quickening unconsciously: "I'm about to cross the park to take the bus home."

Beta keenly noticed the change in her tone. When Rachel was mentioned, Monica's eyes flickered, and her speech unconsciously quickened, clearly indicating she didn't want to delve into the topic. However, when the conversation returned to herself, her eyes became serious again.

This detail made Beta realize that the woman in front of him seemed to have feelings for him that went beyond those of ordinary acquaintances.

Beta immediately began to assess the value of this unexpected encounter.

"What a coincidence." Beta's voice softened slightly as she adjusted her posture, allowing herself to be fully bathed in the afternoon sunlight. "Since we've run into each other, how about I buy you a coffee?"

He pointed in the direction Monica had come from: "I was just thinking of going to check out that coffee shop too."

Monica's gaze followed the direction Beta was pointing, but then suddenly pointed in the opposite direction: "How about we go to that coffee shop over there? The atmosphere is better."

This instinctive avoidance reaction completely confirmed Beta's suspicion that Monica's feelings for him were not a delusion.

A barely perceptible glint of calculation flashed in Beta's eyes, and he deliberately softened his voice: "That sounds like a good suggestion."

This unexpected encounter might become an unforeseen pawn in the mission.

Beta adjusted his pace and walked alongside Monica: "I remember you were a chef?" His tone carried just the right amount of curiosity, as if he were just casually bringing up a trivial topic.

“That’s right.” Monica tilted her head slightly, her hair glistening in the sunlight. “In Manhatta, near the Freedom Tower.” Her voice was filled with undisguised pride.

Beta then revealed a longing look: "The view from there must be amazing, right? Is it one of those high-rise restaurants with panoramic views?"

“It’s absolutely gorgeous.” Monica’s eyes lit up. “Looking out from the floor-to-ceiling windows, you can see the entire central square.” She gestured with an exaggerated arc when she said “the entire square.”

"Do we need to make a reservation in advance to dine?" Beta asked casually, her fingers lightly tapping the camera strap.

Monica nodded: "At least two weeks in advance."

She suddenly lowered her voice: "However, employees can bring one friend without an appointment."

Beta stopped under the tree, and Monica stopped as well.

Beta turned slightly to the side, looking directly at her: "Can I interpret this as..."

He deliberately dragged out the last syllable: "Is this your invitation?"

Monica tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture she held for a full three seconds. Finally, she took a deep breath, looked up, and met Beta's gaze: "Yes." Her voice was soft, yet firm.

Beta's smile deepened: "Then it's settled."

He leaned slightly forward, maintaining a perfect distance: "But there's one condition: I'll pay the bill."

"Deal." Monica's smile spread across her face in the sunlight. "And the specific time?"

"How about dinner eight days from now?" Beta's gaze swept over her slightly reddened earlobes. "That day is perfect."

He paused deliberately, as if searching through a calendar in his memory: "Ah, it's the independent music festival, right? The central square should be very lively."

Eight days later, on the day of the target's speech, Beta's gaze swept past Monica's shoulder, subtly across the direction of the Liberty Building, a prime spot offering a panoramic view of the central square.

(End of this chapter)