Eyes in the Shadows

Seattle's rainy season reaches its peak in late autumn. The sky is like a gray cloth that can never be wrung dry, sprinkling a continuous stream of cold rain evenly over every corner of the city.

Rainwater washed over the glass curtain walls of skyscrapers, gathering into small streams on the asphalt road and blurring the neon lights into hazy, dreamlike patches of color.

This kind of weather makes everything seem damp and foggy, allowing many things that should be exposed to the sun to be better hidden in the shadows and haze.

On the edge of the city's financial district, in an old office building overlooking several blocks, on the seventh floor, lies a long-abandoned office.

The windows were filthy, covered in a thick layer of dust, but a few inconspicuous observation holes had been carefully wiped from the inside of the east-facing windows. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the green indicator lights from several electronic devices and the dim light from a few LCD screens, which illuminated several silent, focused faces.

There was no extra furniture, only a few old chairs brought in from elsewhere, several heavy black equipment cases, a high-powered telescope mounted on a tripod, a professional video camera with a telephoto lens, and a laptop connected to several receivers. The air was filled with dust, the faint smell of burning electronic components, and an almost frozen focus.

Four men were scattered throughout the room. They were between thirty and forty years old, dressed in inconspicuous dark jackets or windbreakers, with ordinary faces, the kind of men who would disappear into a crowd.

But even in the dim light, their eyes were as sharp as an eagle's wing, their movements precise and efficient, exuding a cold, hard aura honed over many years, the kind of aura that belongs to top predators.

They are the "Ghost"—a small, elite team active on the West Coast, specializing in high-difficulty, high-paying assassinations and intelligence missions. Their leader, codenamed "Butcher," is leaning against a wall, chewing a piece of sugar-free gum, his gaze fixed through high-powered binoculars on the entrance of an imposing glass-walled office building a few blocks away.

That place was one of the publicly used office addresses of several shell investment companies under the name of "Lin Mo," and also one of the most frequently seen locations of their target—the young, mysterious Eastern buyer.

"Target vehicles, three black Escalade, license plate matching. Two blocks from the intersection, steady speed." A man sitting in front of a laptop, wearing headphones, said in a low voice. His codename was "Whisper," and he was in charge of communications monitoring and traffic surveillance. The screen showed the intrusion interface of the city's traffic monitoring system, as well as signal fluctuation graphs for several encrypted channels.

"Received. ' Painter,' record the convoy personnel." "Butcher's" voice was deep and hoarse, clearly coming through the throat microphone.

Another man with a camera set up by the window—"The Painter"—immediately adjusted the focus, locking the lens firmly onto the three black SUVs driving smoothly in the rain. The high-definition image was transmitted in real time to his computer screen.

"Two people in the front car, driver and passenger, with distinctive features, suspected to be professional bodyguards. In the middle car, the target on the left rear seat is confirmed as Lin Mo. On the right is a person of Asian descent with a cold demeanor, suspected to be his close assistant 'K'. There are also two people in the rear car. In total, there is one core target, and at least four bodyguards have been confirmed, possibly more hidden inside the vehicles."

The convoy drove into the building's underground parking garage entrance and disappeared from sight.

"The garage entrance has active protection facilities, and the electromagnetic interference is strong. Our 'little flying insects' can't get in, and the signal is also blocked," "Whisper" reported, his fingers rapidly typing on the keyboard, trying to analyze the frequency characteristics of the blocked signal.

"As expected." "The Butcher" put down his binoculars and walked to a large map of Seattle spread out in the center of the room, covered with routes, circles, and annotations in different colored markers. "Seventh day. Notice any patterns?"

"Their schedule is as regular as Switzerland clock." The "Painter" chimed in, pulling up a summary of the tracking records from the past few days. "Between 9:15 and 9:30 on weekday mornings, they depart from the safe house in the ' Oak Ridge ' community, following a fixed route, with three vehicles, and precise control over the distance between them and their speed."

Arriving at the ' Pan-Pacific Ocean Center ' office building, the stay ranges from four to six hours. Departure is in the afternoon, with slightly different routes, but the final destination is usually the safe house. Occasionally, there are visits to a few high-end restaurants or clubs in the city center that require members, but the stay is short, and the security density remains the same.

"Where's the security team? Has the analysis report come out yet?" "Butcher" looked at the fourth member, "Ledger," who had been sitting silently in the corner analyzing data on another computer. He was the team's intelligence analyst and logistics officer.

"Ledger" pushed up his thick Glasses, the lenses reflecting the blue light of the screen. He pulled up an encrypted file and began to speak calmly, "Based on close-up observations over the past week, analysis of long-range photographic images, comparison of gait habits, and cross-verification of 'non-public' military contractor personnel movement information purchased through special channels... it can be highly confirmed that the regular simulated escort team surrounding the target is ' Blood Spear '."

The name "Blood Spear" seemed to freeze the air in the room for half a second. Even top assassin teams like "Ghost," which operate outside the mainstream military system, were very familiar with this name. These top military contractors, active in hotspots such as Africa, the Middle East, and Eastern Europe, are known for their ruthless methods and willingness to pay any price to complete their missions. Their members are mostly retired special forces veterans from various countries, possessing extremely rich combat experience, making them a fearsome and formidable force on the battlefield.

"The Ledger" continued, his voice still calm. "About six months ago, there were unconfirmed rumors in the underground market that ' Blood Spear ' had been acquired by an anonymous capital firm from the East, that the core management team had been reshuffled, and that there were signs of a shift in business direction. Now it seems that the acquirer is very likely our target, Lin Mo. He has transformed this force, which excels in siege warfare and field battles, into his own private guard."

"The Butcher" stopped chewing his gum, his face grim. "Blood Spear... this is troublesome. We have no chance in a direct confrontation. Even in an urban environment, their CQB (Close Quarters Battle) and anti-ambush training are enough to reduce the success rate of any close-quarters assassination plans to zero."

"That's the crux of the matter," "The Ledger" pulled up another analytical chart. "' Blood Spear's' strength lies in 'military operations'—pre-planning battlefields, small-team assaults, defending fortified strongholds, and escorting important figures across combat zones. But what we're facing now is 'fixed-point protection in cities' and 'counter-assassination,' especially guarding against professional assassins like us who don't seek direct combat but only aim for a single, decisive strike and escape. These are two different areas of expertise."

He pointed to several cases on the screen. "I analyzed sixteen publicly available or verifiable records of 'protection missions' from ' Blood Spear ' over the past five years. Eleven of them were escorts of VIPs in war zones, three were short-term security for the wealthy in turbulent areas, and only two involved long-term protection in relatively peaceful major cities."

While the targets were ultimately safe in those two incidents, the records show that they preferred constructing physical defenses (safe houses, vehicles), pre-planning evacuation routes, and conducting deterrent patrols. Preventing high-tech, patient long-range surveillance and ultra-long-range sniping was not their forte. Their approach leaned more towards 'deterrence' and 'responding to attacks' than 'proactively identifying and eliminating potential threats.'

The Butcher pondered, "You mean they are a thick shield, a sharp spear, but not an omnipresent, all-pervasive net? They excel at eliminating the enemy after they've spotted them, rather than finding and pulling the fuse before the enemy even fires?"

"That's one way to understand it," "The Ledger" nodded. "In the complex environment of the city, their inherent patterns of action may have 'gaps' when faced with our level of stealth, reconnaissance, and patience."

For example, their ability to identify and filter ordinary people in society may not be as good as that of professional counterintelligence agencies; their preventative screening of sniper positions at extremely long distances (over 800 meters) may not be as vigilant as their vigilance towards suspicious individuals at close range; their attention is more focused on 'passages' and 'nodes' (entrances, exits, routes), and their sensitivity to long-term, dispersed, non-offensive surveillance may have an upper limit. Of course, this is just speculation based on intelligence, and the risk remains extremely high.

"Extremely high risk." This word made "The Butcher" frown. He was always cautious when accepting missions, and assessing the target's threat level was his first step. The existence of "Blood Spear" undoubtedly raised the threat level several notches. He walked to the window, looked at the continuous rain outside, remained silent for a moment, and then took out a specially encrypted satellite phone and dialed a number.

The phone rang for a long time before being answered. Old Walton's voice, tinged with suppressed impatience and coldness, came from the other end. "Speak."

"Mr. Walton, this is ' The Butcher.'" The Butcher's voice was calm and even. "Initial reconnaissance complete. The target's guard has been confirmed as the ' Blood Spear ' mercenary group, now his personal bodyguard. The situation is more complex than expected; the risk level is assessed as 'extremely high.' According to the supplementary clauses of the contract, we have the right to renegotiate the price or abandon the mission in the event of force majeure or if the target's threat far exceeds the initial estimate."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, then Old Walton's almost growling voice came through, filled with offended anger and gnashing hatred:

"Give up? I paid a deposit, not for you to come here for a vacation! My son is still in the hospital! You're telling me it's high-risk? So what if they're ' Blood Spear '? They're just a bunch of mercenaries who sell their lives for money! I'll pay more! Three times! No, five times! I don't care what methods you use, I want that yellow-skinned Monkey dead! The sooner the better! Do you understand?!"

The promise of a huge reward was like a shot of adrenaline, but "The Butcher" wasn't blinded by it. He needed to weigh the options. Five times the reward was an astronomical sum enough for them all to retire completely and live a carefree life. But the price might be facing "Blood Spear's" vengeful retaliation and the risk of death if the mission failed.

He covered the microphone and turned to look at his teammates. In the darkness, three pairs of eyes were fixed on him. "The Painter" remained expressionless, "Whisper" shrugged, and "The Ledger" adjusted his Glasses and nodded slightly—the analyst believed that although the risk was high, with a well-planned strategy, there was still a chance.

"The Butcher" released the receiver and spoke slowly into the satellite phone:

"We need time to conduct deeper reconnaissance and accurately grasp all its vulnerabilities. The final solution will avoid any form of close contact."

We will employ ultra-long-range sniping to eliminate them while minimizing the risk of their escort. If you agree to this approach and the final quote, we will need you to provide access to a batch of specialized equipment, and... absolute patience.

Do not take any other action before we notify them, as that would alert them.

"Fine! I'll take care of the equipment! Money's no problem! I just want results!" Old Walton's voice was laced with a desperate ruthlessness. "But don't keep me waiting too long! My patience is limited!"

The phone call ended. The room returned to silence, broken only by the sound of raindrops tapping on the window.

"The Ledger" has begun accessing Seattle's 3D city map and building structure database on the computer. "The Painter" and "The Whisper" have also returned to their respective surveillance positions.

The "Butcher" walked back to the map, picked up a red marker, and drew conspicuous circles on several high-rise buildings surrounding the "Pan-Pacific Ocean Center" building. His eyes became cold and focused again, as if he had completely suppressed the previous weighing of risks, leaving only the pure calculation of a hunter locking onto his prey.

"Starting today, reconnaissance intensity will be doubled." "Butcher's" voice rang out in the dimly lit room, clearly reaching the ears of every team member.

"Painter, you are responsible for the final confirmation of the target's daily activity patterns, especially the precise time, habitual route, and surrounding obstructions for the outdoor distance from the office building to the vehicle."

"Whisper," I need information on the surveillance vulnerabilities of all public channels in this building and the surrounding three blocks, as well as possible communication jamming schemes.

The "Ledger" filters all high points within a firing range of 800 to 1200 meters that are suitable for setting up sniper positions, analyzing their field of view, evacuation routes, and daily pedestrian traffic.

He paused for a moment, then pressed the red pen tip heavily onto one of the circles.

"We bypassed the shield, we circled the spear. At the moment he thought himself safest, we sent him on his way from the farthest shadows."