Frank eliminated all other possibilities with a single sentence. "The sniper attack was at the Russian Embassy. Using a bullet to punch a hole in the window is the limit. Russia isn't America; they value face more."
Jack grumbled silently. America was the most resilient nation. They could tolerate their own ambassador being dragged from the embassy, beaten to death, and his body tortured.
Frank's meaning was easy to understand. If the assassination had been a long-range sniper attack, it could be classified as a political assassination. Other factions within the FSB could help cover it up, and any investigation would be conducted covertly.
But if the Russian Embassy in France was directly bombed, the media would inevitably report it. That would be a blatant slap in the face, categorized as a terrorist attack. Given the Russians' fiery temper, they would be determined to find the perpetrator.
At this point, Frank gave Jack a meaningful look. "Even the long-range grenade launcher you used in Mexico wouldn't work."
Someone rubbed his nose awkwardly. He was just about to ask if a larger hole in the window was possible.
Brian was quite enthusiastic. "I might know someone like that, but he's on 'The List,' and getting him from the US to Paris in three days won't be easy."
Frank's "list" was the same thing as the list Brian was referring to. Law enforcement agencies in Europe and the United States, including the military, share an unofficial list of all known ultra-long-range snipers.
Some are active military, some retired, and still others active in the mercenary or even assassin industries. All of them receive extra attention.
The list wasn't long, and Jack had glanced through it, even spotting a familiar name: Bob Lee Swagger.
Of course, not all of the names on the list were real names; a few were simply code names, coined to represent habits or certain distinguishing characteristics, like an accountant who once helped the LAPD eliminate a gang leader from a kilometer away with a Barrett rifle.
But even among those on that list, there were still only a handful capable of completing sniper missions over 2,000 meters. Jack didn't know which one Frank knew, but he said he was on the list, which meant there was no hope of getting him to Paris through normal channels.
These normal channels also included the military channels Jack had previously used, because the CIA couldn't know about this either, or everyone would be targeted, and maybe even what happened tonight would be exposed.
Jack sighed, "Then it should be okay to find me a trained TAC-50, right? I'm not on that list."
This time, not only Anna, but even Frank and Brian were surprised. Anyone on that list had a military background.
They didn't know Jack had SEAL training, but even if they did, they would still be surprised. An elite sniper isn't something you can create in a few months. After all, there are only a few dozen people in the world who qualify for that list.
The TAC-50 Jack mentioned is currently recognized as the most stable long-range sniper rifle, with an effective range of exactly 2,000 meters.
Of the top five recognized sniper kill records, three were set with this rifle: fourth at 2,310 meters, third at 2,410 meters, and first at a whopping 3,540 meters.
Jack's words implied that, given a TAC-50, he could confidently kill Vasiliev at 2,000 meters.
Frank frowned and warned, "Are you sure? If we give up this opportunity, we might be able to find other options, but if we fail, that old bastard will likely retreat to Moscow and remain invisible for a long time." "
Let's find a spot and fire a couple of shots and see. I'm at least 50% sure. The rest depends on luck. Oh, and I need high-precision sniper ammunition,"
Jack said, yawning. He'd had a minor outburst when he stormed into the auction today. The aftereffects weren't severe, but he'd deliberately drunk a lot to suppress them. Now the alcohol was finally taking effect.
But he wasn't just being drunk; that's how confident people with cheats are.
For ultra-long-range sniping, numerous factors influence bullet impact, including but not limited to ballistic coefficient, air density and humidity, temperature, windage, the Coriolis effect (the force caused by the Earth's rotation), altitude, and so on.
Windage is paramount. When shooting at distances exceeding 1,500 meters, it's theoretically impossible for the shooter to completely correct for windage.
Back when Jack's sniping skills were at the Master level, he could feign Barrett shooting competitions with Chris on the farm, easily achieving a perfect score at 1,000 meters (1,200 yards). (Chapter 290)
Once his skills reached Master level, the only factors affecting his accuracy seemed to be the performance of the gun and the ammunition.
The TAC-50 has an effective range of 2,000 meters, so Jack could confidently achieve a perfect score at that distance. Switching to specialized high-precision sniper ammunition could theoretically increase that range significantly.
He wasn't sure by how much, so he was being a bit modest. Frank
certainly had it in spades. Finding a skilled long-range sniper in Paris in three days might have been difficult for him,
but he managed to procure a meticulously tuned TAC-50 for Jack in less than 12 hours, even finding a safe spot for testing.
After getting Cassel and the two girls onto the plane, they drove to an abandoned quarry on the outskirts of Paris.
"2085 meters," Jack leisurely prepared. Next to him, Anna eagerly used a laser rangefinder to measure the distance to a distant half-length target. Three pumpkins were stacked behind the target for immediate confirmation of her hit.
Of the four present, she was the most nervous, as Jack's fatal shot was now crucial to her escape from the FSB.
"200 meters, right, crosswind 4.4 meters per second, 1400 meters, left, crosswind." Even before Brian, acting as a temporary spotter, had finished reading the wind speed from the small flags along the way, Jack opened fire.
The gunshot was loud and abrupt. The TAC-50 fired a 12.7x99mm .50 caliber bullet, which was nearly 10 centimeters long, exceeding the average size of a Korean man.
The intense combustion of gunpowder gases blasted out from the side holes of the large muzzle brake, stirring up dust that stained Anna's pale blond hair a smoky gray.
Wearing noise-canceling earmuffs, Anna seemed oblivious, her telescope fixed intently on the half-length target in the distance.
The TAC-50 fired specialized, high-precision sniper ammunition at a muzzle velocity approaching three times the speed of sound, but the bullet's velocity steadily decreased due to air resistance.
After traveling 2,000 meters, its velocity had dropped to nearly the speed of sound, and the total flight time was approximately 2.5 seconds.
A little over two seconds after the gunshot, the half-body target was missing the half above the head, and pumpkin juice splashed behind it. Anna pulled off her earmuffs and screamed, then collapsed onto Jack's back, kissing him profusely on the cheek and neck.
"Get away! Get away! You're hitting me!" Jack pushed the girl away, unfeelingly pulling the bolt to eject the shell. He then retrieved a small cloth bag and carefully stowed the copper shell.
The collection of the shell wasn't about preserving evidence, but rather, after undergoing "fire shaping," the once-fired copper shell had been stretched and fitted to the barrel of the gun by the expansion of the gunpowder, becoming a high-precision shell specifically designed for this sniper rifle.
Those who frequently use flick shots for headshots know that even high-precision military sniper ammunition, due to the inevitable tolerances of mass production, can cause play in the shell's chamber.
This play causes a slight misalignment between the bullet's axis and the barrel's axis, causing it to vibrate after firing, adversely affecting accuracy.
This is where the advantages of hand-loading come into play. With the help of precision tools, the quality and dosage of the propellant, the warhead mass, and the assembly precision are all significantly superior to mass-produced bullets. Experienced gunsmiths can also adjust the chamber pressure and muzzle velocity based on actual use.
If such a hand-loaded round is used with the sniper rifle's exclusive high-precision cartridge case, it becomes an upgraded version of the High-Precision Sniper Round PLUS, exclusive to that rifle.
Jack couldn't do this, but Frank and Brian did. Their mission today wasn't just to test Jack's marksmanship; they also had to fire a sufficient number of high-precision shells, reloading them and selecting the perfect shot to kill Vasiliev.
Frank had arrived in a pickup truck, the bed loaded with twenty wooden bust targets and a pile of pumpkins the size of human heads. Jack's performance was perfect: a perfect 10-for-10 hit within 2,100 meters, and 6-for-10 at 2,500 meters.
Such marksmanship was enough to guarantee Vasiliev's return. Jack wasn't aiming for a presidential candidate; a headshot wasn't necessary.
The TAC-50, also an anti-material sniper rifle, shattered everything it hit. Even a single hit to the shoulder would cause a 60-year-old man to bleed to death in minutes.
For the next two days, Jack lived a comfortable, comfortable life, with his clothes and food provided for him. Anna, a nervous wretch, became his 24/7 personal maid, fearing she might accidentally bump into something and affect her performance.
Knife handling in the kitchen was strictly forbidden. Even during normal exercise, Anna nervously followed him around. She waited outside the shower curtain while he showered, and even slept on the floor in his bedroom at night, much to his annoyance.
Jack had originally wanted to use this rare break to submit a couple more drafts to Justin, but now, under the 24/7 scrutiny of a stalker, he could only seriously update the second installment of "Jack Reacher."
However, inspiration was limited, so the rest of the time he spent lying on the sofa scrolling through his phone.
For the past two days, French news, world news, and even major forums were all intensively discussing the rue de Paradis in Paris's 10th arrondissement.
As a result, topics related to Albanian gangs, the kidnapping of female tourists, and human trafficking topped the headlines, garnering significant attention. Minorities, immigration issues, Parisian public safety, and the prevalence of pickpockets at popular European tourist destinations all garnered significant attention.
France, especially Paris, saw its tourism industry seemingly enter a cold winter overnight, with a deluge of negative news dominating the front pages of European and American media, particularly those in the UK and the US.
Interestingly, the fire at Patrice Saint-Clair's club only received a small, unremarkable section in Le Parisien the following day.
Local television news reported briefly that a fire had broken out in a certain neighborhood due to aging wiring, but fortunately, no casualties were reported.
The lack of casualties infuriated Jack, who wondered how the Parisian authorities had managed to conceal the existence of dozens of bodies. Meanwhile, obituaries of prominent individuals and celebrities appeared in newspapers and websites in other countries.
The causes of death varied widely, ranging from helicopter crashes, heart attacks, and even a fall at a ski resort that left him in a vegetative state.
Basically, the older ones died of illness, while those who were younger could only be considered accidental deaths. Because they were from different countries and regions, and the Paris kidnapping case dominated the headlines, it didn't attract much attention.
Jack suspected that the person in a vegetative state was involved in an inheritance dispute, and the family had somehow found a scapegoat to temporarily fill the void. After all, a charred corpse couldn't be put on a ventilator.
Frank had seemingly vanished since returning from his gun test that day, with no news of him since. As two days passed in a flash, Anna's anxiety grew visibly.
On the evening before the scheduled operation, Frank finally appeared and drove the group to Parc Bagatelle in the heart of Paris.
From the window of a viewing platform under renovation high above the park, Frank, holding his hat against his bald head, pointed eastward. "That's the Russian Embassy."
Jack picked up his binoculars and followed his finger, his gaze passing over a small lake in the park, over an overpass, and finally resting on a dated Baroque building.
It's said that this historic building was purchased during the Tsarist era and has since housed successive governments' embassies in Paris. Its style appears unchanged for centuries.
As dusk gradually fell, the first and second floor halls, adorned with crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceilings, resembled miniature imperial palaces, all glittering and resplendent.
Wiggled attendants moved about, as if preparing for a banquet.
"On the third floor, in a room lit only by a single table lamp. Remember that spot. Tomorrow morning, between 10 and 11, Vasiliev will be there, enjoying his beloved cigar and playing chess."
Following Frank's instructions, Jack shifted his focus and quickly found a small room with a single floor-to-ceiling window. The red curtains were drawn, and the faint red glow from the light pierced through them, making it stand out even more.
Having mentally marked the location of the small room, Jack observed the area for a long time, feeling a sense of admiration for these veteran spies. He imagined they'd been planning assassinations here during the late Cold War.
Because, besides his current position, there was a small bell tower even closer, right by the lake. That was actually the best sniper spot, less than a kilometer from the embassy building.
According to Jack's observations, the bell tower should have provided complete coverage of the embassy building, rather than being obscured by the park's tall trees and the overpass in the distance, which only allowed for a meager view of about a third.
The problem was that the bell tower was in such a prime position, so prime that any decent Russian would immediately target it if they saw a sniper.
Frank noticed Jack's gaze and smiled, "Forget it. Everyone in the bell tower, including the janitor and the cleaner, is FSB."
Jack looked unfazed, but he still had a small question.
He wasn't interested in Vasiliev's presence in Paris, but he was curious about Frank's certainty that he would be in that room tomorrow morning, playing chess with someone there.
Vasiliev was a high-ranking FSB official, so it wouldn't be difficult to trick him into Paris with some crucial disinformation. Important figures have their movements scheduled, so knowing when he would appear at the embassy wouldn't be a problem with an insider.
But Jack was puzzled by how to guarantee Vasiliev's presence in the targeted room, and even accurately predict where he'd be smoking and playing chess.
After all, hobbies are hobbies, but a high-ranking spy couldn't have a routine, like doing certain things at certain times every day. That would be too easy for the enemy to detect.
After hearing his question, Frank showed a look of contempt, "Of course it's psychological suggestion. Suppose you are a chess enthusiast, and you saw a report about a chess match in the newspaper on the plane.
And you know that you have an action agent who is good at chess, and the important person you are about to meet will be an hour late because of the bad traffic in downtown Paris, what would you do?"
"Hiss" Jack took a breath, it turns out that not only the FBI plays with psychology, these old guys who are engaged in spies may be more proficient in it than them. Frank said it simply, but in fact, it is linked together, and there must be a complete set of careful deployment.
Unexpectedly, when he turned around, he was met with Anna's pale face. "What's wrong with you?"
She had been wearing a stern face on the way here, trying hard to suppress the joy in her eyes. Why was she so frightened now?
"My file says that I've been good at chess since I was a child. Vasiliev warned me that he wouldn't allow anyone to play tricks on him except during chess games, and he asked me when I could play a game with him."
Here's a 5K chapter. Do you prefer two chapters or a long chapter?
(End of this chapter)