Rewind to one minute earlier.
After spending seven to eight hours in the observation deck, Jack had wanted to pull the trigger the moment he saw Vasilev appear in his scope. The problem was that the elevated highway had too many passing trucks and buses today.
The sniper position Frank had chosen for him was perfect in every way except for the distance—it was extremely well-concealed. Any higher, and he wouldn't have a clear view of the room. Any lower, and the highway's guardrails and passing vehicles would block his shot.
Right now, the position was just right. Only tall double-decker buses and container trucks could interfere with the bullet's trajectory. Regular cars weren't tall enough to be an issue.
Like the previous raids in Paris, Jack was not using a radio. The entire operation relied on pre-arranged signals.
This made sense. No matter how incompetent the French security forces were, they were still part of a major world power. At the end of the day, they were still a state apparatus.
Frank had provided weapons and ammunition from his old safe house stash, so there was no risk of tracing them back. But communication devices were different. While they might not be instantly traceable, they could still lead to unwanted scrutiny.
What Jack was most curious about was the timing signal Frank had mentioned. The old spy had said someone would provide a wind marker and that Jack would know when to take the shot.
Jack found it odd that Frank was being so cryptic about something so crucial. He also doubted that anyone besides someone with a cheat system like himself could accurately hit a target two kilometers away, especially with an obstructed view due to passing vehicles.
Although most cars weren't tall enough to block the bullet, the air currents they created as they passed could affect the shot. These unpredictable wind patterns were nearly impossible to account for.
Just as Jack was pondering this, a container truck on the elevated highway suddenly lost control and crashed into the guardrail in the middle of the road. The driver reacted quickly, yanking the wheel to narrowly avoid oncoming traffic.
At the same time, a car in the opposite lane, unable to brake in time, swerved and clipped the back of the truck before crashing into the oncoming lane.
Fortunately, the traffic was dense, and speeds were relatively low. The collisions were minor, but the aftermath was severe—the two vehicles and the dislodged guardrail completely blocked both lanes of the highway, bringing traffic to a standstill.
Almost as if on cue, as the crash unfolded, a small yellow balloon rose slowly from within the park. Coincidentally, a red balloon also appeared further behind the highway.
As the two balloons floated upward, swaying in the wind and entering his scope's view, Jack couldn't help but be impressed. Frank, you old bastard… You really thought of everything.
Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
—
"Guards! Guards! Sniper!"
By the time Anna snapped out of her daze, she saw that Chenkov had already tackled Vasilev to the ground, shouting for security.
Vasilev wasn't completely dead yet. His legs twitched slightly. A massive hole had torn through his left shoulder, from his collarbone to his neck. Blood was spraying everywhere—even onto Anna's face.
For some reason, she suddenly felt an urge to laugh. The corners of her mouth curled slightly before she quickly restrained herself, regaining her usual cold demeanor.
She grabbed a first aid kit from a nearby cabinet and pressed gauze firmly against Vasilev's wound.
But a wound like this was far beyond the capabilities of mere gauze. His neck was almost severed, with a section of his left carotid artery missing. His trachea was cut, and even his white spinal vertebrae were exposed to the air.
Saving him was impossible. Even if an elite surgical team were standing by, they couldn't pull him back from death's grasp.
Anna's actions weren't about providing medical aid—they were to confirm that the injury was fatal.
Everything around her became hazy once more. It was as if she were watching a movie, detached from the chaos unfolding before her. People appeared and disappeared from her field of view. Shouts of panic and harsh commands filled the air.
For a fleeting moment, she saw herself—standing there in a daze, her face and clothes covered in blood, as if none of this had anything to do with her.
"Anna? Anna!"
Chenkov grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard. "Snap out of it! The General wants to see you."
"The General? Isn't he dead?"
Anna blinked and looked down at the corpse. Two uniformed embassy officers were already covering the body with a white sheet.
"I mean General Petrovna. She just arrived at the embassy after receiving the news."
Chenkov's gaze carried a hint of suspicion. Anna's lost and disoriented reaction didn't seem like that of a professional field agent.
But he had no time to dwell on it. As they spoke, another embassy officer arrived with several guards—carrying two sets of handcuffs.
Unlike the visibly tense Chenkov, Anna remained calm and extended her wrists. She knew her part was done. Soon, she would be dead.
—
Anna's mission was over, but Jack's wasn't. He was currently making his escape. The moment he saw Vasilev take the hit through his 16x scope, he immediately began breaking down his rifle.
The TAC-50 wasn't a complicated weapon. The stock and free-floating barrel could be disassembled easily, along with the bipod.
He quickly dismantled the now-useless sniper rifle into a pile of components and wrapped them in a small cloth before stuffing them into his backpack.
Then, he put on gloves and removed the makeshift sound traps he had set at the entry points. Finally, he grabbed a handful of pre-collected dust and scattered it around.
Once everything was set, Jack carefully walked backward out of the observation deck, toeing the ground to avoid leaving clear footprints.
At that moment, a small electric golf cart pulled up beside him, driven by Bryan, who was wearing a sun visor.
Jack took the cap Bryan handed him, put it on, and hopped into the cart. They maneuvered around a horse track and onto a paved road, heading west toward the Seine River.
Behind them, a thick plume of smoke rose into the sky. But it wasn't coming from the observation deck where Jack had fired the shot—it was coming from the small clock tower less than a kilometer from the Russian embassy.
It was true that the FSB had stationed agents at the clock tower, but that hadn't stopped Bryan from posing as a tourist and leaving behind a small "gift."
This was part of Jack's misdirection strategy. Compared to the clock tower's location, the observation deck was much farther away. Under normal circumstances, no one would suspect it as a sniper position.
So Jack had set up a diversion to draw the FSB's attention to the clock tower, buying them time to escape.
If the FSB took the bait and focused their investigation there, by the time they realized their mistake, the observation deck would already be back under renovation, leaving no traces behind.
—
It was a crisp autumn day, and there were plenty of boats on the Seine. Instead of drifting downstream, Jack and Bryan rowed upstream, blending in with the crowds of tourists.
They played their roles well, making casual comments about the riverside architecture as if they were just another pair of visitors.
When they passed the Eiffel Tower, Jack even pulled out a camera and took several photos.
After all, in this world, landmarks like this were worth capturing.
Who knew? One day, he might never see it again.
______
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