My absurd experiences in North America over the years

Li Fu did not answer immediately.

The fragrance of sandalwood wafted slowly through the air in the private room, climbing from the corners of the walls to the ceiling and then falling back down, filling the air with its aroma.

Hilton's typically American sweetheart face was now full of confidence. She had never failed to get the man she set her sights on, which gave her enough confidence.

"Personal secretary/bodyguard?" Li Fu repeated the phrase, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Sounds pretty good."

"Of course, not everyone has this opportunity," Hilton leaned back in his chair, picked up his water glass, and took a sip.

Li Fu lowered his head, his fingers gently stroking the inside of the cup. The Evian water in the cup shimmered transparently under the light, its surface as smooth as a small mirror.

"I need to think about it carefully," he finally raised his head, his eyes showing no hesitation or wavering, only a calm that was just right, as if he were really weighing the pros and cons.

Hilton stared at him for two seconds, then laughed.

There was a sense of relief in that smile; in her view, no one would refuse the Hilton family's offer.

She put down her water glass, took out a black business card from her bag, held it between two fingers, and handed it to Li Fu.

Call me when you've made up your mind.

The business card had no title or company name, only a name in gold foil and a phone number.

It must be her private phone number.

Li Fu took the business card and put it in his pocket.

With the formal negotiations concluded, we can now begin our pleasant meal.

Hilton pressed the service bell on the table, and a waiter in a black vest pushed the door open and came in.

"Truffle pasta, grilled sea bass, white asparagus, and a bottle of Puy-Fumé." She ordered skillfully.

Since it was a private order, the food was served relatively quickly.

This was Li Fu's first time eating at such a restaurant, and the experience was quite good.

Hilton casually mentioned the recent Fashion Week and complained about the paparazzi always lurking outside her house, making it inconvenient for her to go out.

Li Fu responded casually, but his mind was elsewhere.

After the meal, the two walked out of the private restaurant together.

Hilton offered to send him back, but Li Fu politely declined.

He watched the Bentley silently glide into the night, its taillights disappearing at the next street corner, then hailed a taxi and gave the driver an address two blocks from his home.

He was used to constantly counter-surveillance, making sure no one knew where he was staying.

In the taxi, he watched the palm trees and neon lights rushing past the window, his fingers tapping lightly on his knees.

Hilton's words swirled in his mind, not the warnings about "stop investigating" or "you'll die," but another sentence she said.

Her grandfather was one of the partners in Blues Cellar.

Li Fu believed he had been very careful.

However, this pioneer of internet celebrities still learned of his secret through her unique channels.

The events of the past few days flashed through his mind like movie clips.

Winthrop, Goldstein, Hilton, and some bigwig with a strong interest in him... the upper-class celebrities each have their own calculations and thoughts.

But they didn't treat the people below them as human beings.

Li Fu didn't want to get entangled with it any further.

He suddenly felt very bored.

I'm tired of their arrogance.

Tired of that condescending "goodwill".

Tired of being a pawn moved around on the chessboard of those big shots.

He didn't want to investigate anymore, and he didn't want to deal with police officers, lawyers, detectives, socialites, brokers, or hitmen anymore.

He wanted to solve the problem in the simplest way possible.

Making someone disappear in this city isn't that difficult.

The next morning, Li Fu drove away from the small house in East Los Angeles and drove along the familiar path onto the main road.

He first went to a public parking lot without surveillance cameras, then switched to another car, a used Ford Taurus that he bought under a false name in Alhambra.

When he drives this car, he never takes the same route twice.

Then I went into an illegal internet cafe!

The internet cafe was in terrible condition, filled with the acrid smell of smoke and cheap coffee, and a few Mexican teenagers were playing video games in a corner.

He chose a machine that was close to the wall and opened the Tor browser.

The dark web in 2006 was not as mature as it would be a few years later, but it already existed.

He found an overseas marketplace that primarily facilitated anonymous transactions. The interface was crude, and all communications were encrypted multiple times. He then registered a randomly generated new account.

After entering the desired rifle model in the search bar, three sellers popped up.

He chose the one with the highest credibility.

The other party's introduction was very simple: "Remington 700PSS, with scope and silencer, payment method is wire transfer to Panamanian account."

Li Fu did not hesitate.

He quickly wrote down the IBAN number.

That afternoon, he went to a financial services company in downtown Los Angeles that accepted cash wire transfers.

In this era of relatively relaxed financial regulation, such companies do not require identity verification; they only need to fill out remittance slips and pay cash.

He concealed his face with a baseball cap and sunglasses and completed the wire transfer in cash at the counter.

In countries where guns are commonplace, a sniper rifle is quite cheap; the price of the gun plus fees is only a little over two thousand US dollars.

Nobody cares about this amount.

The recipient was an anonymous account at a bank in Panama.

The whole process went smoothly.

The seller's reply was also very straightforward.

"I will tell you the location to pick up the gun tomorrow."

The following afternoon, Li Fu's temporary number received a text message containing only one coordinate.

It was an abandoned factory in East Los Angeles, with a huge metal warehouse inside.

Following the instructions, he drove around three times to make sure there were no tails before entering the bumpy dirt road.

He found a black plastic bag wrapped in several layers of tape under a trash can outside the warehouse.

Inside the box is a Remington 700PSS, the Police Sharpshooter model, 7.62mm caliber, with a suppressor on the barrel.

The scope on the frame is a Leupoldmark 4, adjustable from 3.5x to 10x.

This gun isn't new; there are a few minor scratches on the stock, but the chamber is shiny and well-maintained.

The gun body has been repainted to a matte dark gray finish, and has no serial number or traceable markings.

Li Fu inspected the chamber and lens, confirming there was no damage, then stuffed the gun into a long, narrow fishing bag, zipped it up, and threw it into the trunk of the Ford. Afterward, he found a secluded spot to test fire and calibrate the gun.

Once everything was in place, he set off immediately, with a case of bottled water and a case of compressed biscuits already prepared in the trunk.

The target is the hilly area west of Beverly Hills.

The altitude there is not high, but the vegetation is lush.

Above the hillside is the affluent area, with villas hidden behind the trees, at least several hundred meters apart.

He had previously observed the terrain of Goldstein when he was tracking the area. The political broker's villa was located on a prominent rock ridge on the upper part of the mountain, surrounded by trees on three sides and facing west.

The villa has walls, a security system, and patrolling bodyguards.

Infiltrating to assassinate him is clearly impractical.

However, outside the villa's walls is an oak forest, where there is a high vantage point suitable for sniping.

Li Fu parked the Ford sedan in the messy woods, covered it with camouflage cloth and branches, then slung his fishing bag over his shoulder and disappeared into the woods.

He chose a sniping spot on a natural rock platform on the other side of the ridge, about 450 meters away from Goldstein's villa as the crow flies.

This was a judgment made based on his professional skills; the field of vision was wide open, with the background being bare rock walls without any outlines.

Although the distance from here to the villa in Goldstein is a bit far, the other party's bodyguards' patrol range cannot cover that far.

After firing the shot, he had enough time to evacuate before anyone else reached the area.

This sniper rifle has an effective range of 800 meters.

Four hundred meters is enough to kill the opponent.

Upon arriving at the location, Li Fu concealed himself, lay prone on the rocky platform, and steadily aimed the crosshairs of his Poldmark 4 at the balcony on the second floor of the villa.

With all preparations complete, all that's left is to wait.

His luck seemed to be bad; he didn't get any chances on the first day, and Goldstein didn't even show up.

Li Fu was under intense surveillance and slept for less than four hours.

The situation remained the same on the second day; there were no opportunities for sniping.

This is extremely agonizing.

He was very confident in his infiltration; Goldstein and his bodyguards would never have expected him to be there.

However, if the car at the foot of the mountain stays there for too long, it might be accidentally discovered by someone.

However, Li Fu was not affected by this.

He overcame this torment and continued to wait patiently.

Finally, around 3 p.m. on the third day, the opportunity arrived.

In the scope, Goldstein was wearing a white linen shirt, holding a glass of whiskey, and leaning against the balcony railing.

He was accompanied by a young Latina girl.

The two appeared to be flirting.

Li Fu could clearly see that the Latina girl was dressed sexily and had a very hot figure.

What the two will do next is self-evident.

However, he wasn't in the mood to watch the live "action movie"; he just wanted the perfect opportunity to fire.

However, Goldstein and the Latina beauty were so close together that it was too easy for them to accidentally kill each other.

There is a cause for every wrong, and a debtor for every crime. Li Fu is not the kind of person who indiscriminately kills innocent people.

He struggled to overcome his anxiety and waited for another five or six minutes.

Finally, the girl untied Goldstein's belt, then tied up her hair and squatted down...

This was the perfect opportunity, and Goldstein, unable to bear the stimulation, raised his head.

Li Fu's breathing was steady and his heartbeat was stable.

He accurately predicted the wind speed at that moment and the slight trajectory deviation that might occur over 400 meters.

Then, without hesitation, he pulled the trigger.

The silencer reduced the gunshot to a muffled sound.

Four hundred and eighty meters away, a dark red flower suddenly burst open on Goldstein's forehead. His body fell backward, over the railing, and onto the first-floor terrace.

He died on the spot.

The Latina girl was clearly terrified and let out a heart-wrenching scream.

Li Fu ejected the spent cartridge from the gun barrel, stuffed it into his pocket, then slid down the rocky platform and quickly headed to the parking spot.

His off-road skills were still superb, and he quickly made his way there.

The hidden Ford went unnoticed. He threw his fishing bag into the trunk and immediately drove down the dirt road to another location.

This was a spur-of-the-moment decision of his to go to the beach in Malibu.

If given the chance, let's go all out today and wipe out the enemy completely.

Before Lucy left, he had already figured out Winslop's habits while he was tracking Winslop.

That rich kid likes to go fishing at the beach in Malibu on weekends; theoretically, shallow water is more suitable for assassinations.

Of course, he doesn't know whether Winslop is there or not.

This was purely a matter of luck.

It took some time to get from the city to Malibu. Li Fu parked his Ford in a corner of a public parking lot, changed his clothes, and then, carrying his fishing bag, walked along the coastline to a deserted rocky area.

The area is sparsely populated and full of reefs, making it ideal for sniping.

The wind and waves weren't too big today, with the waves on the sea being about one meter high. A little after five o'clock in the afternoon, a small white boat sailed from the sea toward the dock.

Li Fu looked through the scope and then saw a familiar face.

He's been quite lucky; perhaps to relieve his recent frustration and anger, Winslop has been taking a break in Malibu these past few days.

Li Fu estimated the distance; the two sides were about three hundred meters apart.

The wind speed is four meters per second, and the wind direction is from right to left.

It is very suitable for sniping.

The instant the spray subsided, Li Fu immediately pulled the trigger.

With a soft "poof" sound.

A painful cry came from afar.

His first shot went slightly off target, hitting Winslop in the face.

The bullet passed through the cheek and mouth and exited the body.

This shot was not fatal.

"There's a sniper..."

Winslop's assistant shouted.

However, his reaction was very real; he almost immediately lay down on the bottom of the boat, covered his head with his hands, and trembled all over.

Protecting the boss...that's impossible.

Why risk your life for a few thousand yuan a month?

Li Fu fired a second shot just before Winslop fell, the second shot coinciding almost simultaneously with the assistant's exclamation.

The shot pierced Winslop's chest with pinpoint accuracy.

He was extremely confident in himself, so he immediately put away his gun, crawled out from the pile of rocks, and returned to the parking lot via another path.

However, instead of immediately returning to the city, he drove his Ford to the wilderness between Malibu and the city and completely destroyed the fake car and sniper rifle.

Then he returned to the city under the cover of night.

When they arrived in downtown Los Angeles, the affluent neighborhood where Goldstein lived was already in an uproar.

Police and detectives searched the area thoroughly, but found nothing except some tire tracks.

The death of that capitalist and political broker spread rapidly within the circle, and Li Fu's private number kept ringing. First it was Hilton, then an unfamiliar number, which, judging from the area code, seemed to be from Nashville.

Li Fuxian called Hilton back, determined to appease him no matter what.

"Where are you?" Her voice was serious.

"I've been drowning my sorrows in alcohol these past two days and have been sleeping at home," Li Fu replied in a languid tone.

"Goldstein was assassinated in his own villa," Hilton stated in a very calm tone.

Of course, it was also a test of him.

Li Fu's reaction and response at this moment are crucial.

"What? That can't be!"

He displayed just the right amount of shock and disbelief.

"It's true, you'll see it on the news soon..." Hilton paused, then slowly continued, "You'd better stay out of this. The FBI will definitely get involved; you know how they operate."

"Don't worry, it has nothing to do with me," Li Fu said with great certainty.

He left no clues that could be used to trace him.

Only Hilton knew about his previous investigation and tracking of Goldstein.

Moreover, this alone does not constitute any evidence.

Hilton didn't say anything more, only telling Li Fu that he should reply to her invitation.

After hanging up Hilton's call, Li Fu dialed back the unfamiliar Nashville number.

He had thought it would be Cole.

Who knew that the voice he heard was one he knew very well.

"Li, it's me. Don't say anything, just listen to me. Take a flight to Nashville right now... Only here can we be truly safe..."

It's been over six months since we last contacted each other...

Lucy Forrest.