After buying a portable refrigeration device, Shen Feng put Faulkner's two eyeballs in it, found a reputable private vault to store his things, and went all the way to New York.

After finding a hotel near the upcoming exhibition, Shen Feng spent the next few days in the underground shooting range to practice his marksmanship.

With the escort of Jingwei and money, identity has never been an issue, so it has never attracted the attention of others.

Now his status in the Eagle Country is very ordinary, a descendant of a family that immigrated to the United States in the seventies and eighties of the last century, a second-generation immigrant.

Of course, it is an ABC that has been fully integrated into the culture of the Eagle Nation, and a pure Wall Street business accent shows a good educational background.

In addition, the security of the area where I live is not bad, so it has not caused any trouble.

Although he had also practiced marksmanship in the apocalyptic world of the nuclear war wasteland, it was the first time he had practiced so systematically.

With the assistance of the silicon-based brain, the memory of various details has reached the level of a devil, so Shen Feng quickly knows all kinds of firearms.

Although it has not yet reached the level of an Olympic shooting champion, it is already considered to be a good marksmanship.

"Phew!" After emptying the last bullet in the magazine, looking at the target paper that hit the bull's-eye, Shen Feng nodded with satisfaction.

This way, you don't have to use a shotgun every time.

Of course, the shotgun is still his favorite, and it has little to do with the quasi-head.

After taking off the earmuffs and goggles, Shen Feng checked out, put on another pair of sunglasses, put on his hands in his pockets, left the shooting range, got into a taxi, and went to the hotel near the exhibition.

The room he was in had a view of the entrance to the exhibition building.

This is an electronic equipment exhibition, although it is not a world-renowned electronic exhibition, but it is also somewhat well-known in the Eagle Country.

And some of Lockheed Martin's military equipment will also be exhibited here, and the organizer of the entire exhibition is also Lockheed Martin, so Cady Cohen will also make a public speech.

Because it is not a particularly important exhibition, the security level of this exhibition is not very high.

There was not even a bulletproof glass cover installed on the podium.

Apparently no one thought that someone would assassinate Cady Cohen.

At this time, it was already more than eight o'clock in the morning, and the exhibition would start at nine o'clock in the morning, Shen Feng took a cup of coffee, found a chair, and sat comfortably in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of the hotel room, looking at the open space at the entrance of the exhibition.

A podium and chairs have been set up, and staff are installing sound equipment and other equipment waiting for businessmen and government officials attending the fair.

As the largest defense contractor in the Eagle Nation, even if it is just a small exhibition of Lockheed Martin, the elites in all aspects have to give enough face.

In an office building not far from Shen Feng's hotel, a cleaner with a mustache was slowly pushing a small cart, and after a while, he had arrived at a utility room on the ninth floor.

After entering, the door was locked, and the cleaner casually took out a few parts from the utility cart and expertly assembled them.

Soon a slender sniper rifle with a silencer appeared in his hand, plus a few bullets.

The "cleaner" walked to the window, which was less than fifty centimeters long, raised his gun and aimed the scope on it at the podium in the exhibition building opposite.

The location is just right.

Then the "cleaner" looked at his watch, sat quietly on the edge of the bed, rubbed the barrel of the gun, and quietly waited for the arrival of the target.

Squinting at the spot of light that fell to the ground, his eyes couldn't help but be a little misty, recalling the years when he was in the jungle of South America and the local government army.

He had been part of a guerrilla group in a small South American country and was an ardent admirer of Che Guevara.

It was only later betrayed by traitors, and the entire team was completely suppressed by the government army, and even the lone owl came to participate.

He himself was captured by the team of the lone warrior and was forced to become a member of the other party.

Later, in the joint operation of the CIA and the DEA (Eagle State Drug Enforcement Administration), he became the internal response of the other party and eliminated the trafficking group in one fell swoop.

And he himself came to the Eagle Country through smuggling channels with the help of some people, and became a member of a certain organization, living an ordinary life on weekdays, and when he was needed, he became a gun.

He knew he was on the line, but he didn't know who the other party was.

It has always been a one-line contact, and all kinds of money, goods and equipment have also been obtained from certain places after receiving orders.

His own identity in everyday life is nothing more than an illegal immigrant who occasionally works odd jobs.

"Clean the room, room LMT009 of the Presidential Suite of the San Francisco Hotel."

Here's the information he got.

LMT, which is the code name of Lockheed Martin, 009, is Cady Cohen's invisible position on the board.

For the "cleaner", it didn't matter who he killed, his kindness and ideals had long since been buried in the South American jungles, buried by the corpses of his companions.

It's enough to know who to kill.

And although he has never revealed his identity on the line, the "cleaner" himself has some guesses.

Twenty percent of the time it was a criminal group, and 80 percent of the time it was the CIA with whom he had dealing.

On November 22, 1963, John F. Kennedy, President of the Eagle Nation, was assassinated in full view of the public, with a sixth-floor shot and three headshots.

The assassin was shot dead by a bar owner a few days later under the watchful eye of the police.

In the three years following JFK's assassination, 18 key witnesses died one after another, and from 1963 to 1993, 115 related witnesses committed suicide or were murdered in various bizarre events.

As for which side of the force is the most suspicious, there are always three parties, one is the military whose military spending was cut, the other is the vice president at the time, Lyndon Johnson, and the third party is the CIA.

The CIA suffered a setback in the "Bay of Pigs Incident" that overthrew the Cuban regime, and Kennedy took the opportunity to severely suppress it, and had sufficient motives.

And in the various investigations that have not been completed since then, the CIA has always been the main force, and I don't know how much truth has been hidden.

It is precisely for this reason that the CIA, as the beneficiary of the assassination, is basically 100 percent likely to be involved, but it is only a question of how much.

Since the assassination of John F. Kennedy, the CIA has grown into a behemoth hidden in the dark.

Now it is not inconceivable to get rid of a director of a military-industrial enterprise.

After all, when faced with a problem, it is the quickest way to directly eliminate the person who raised the problem.

This is also the usual way of thinking that has been formed after subverting the unknown number of regimes.

After thinking about it for a while, the "cleaner" looked at the time, picked up a bullet and kissed it gently, loaded it into a sniper rifle, and then put the barrel covered with a towel on the windowsill.

Eight fifty-nine a.m.

The sunlight had just left the windowsill, and neither the gun nor the scope would reflect the light.

The timing was just right.

The open space in front of the convention and exhibition building below was already full of guests at this time, as well as many reporters, holding cameras and mobile phones to shoot the scene.

Cady Cohen, with pale blonde hair, had arrived at the scene and was walking up to the podium surrounded by bodyguards.

A bodyguard brought in a bulletproof glass pane and wanted to put it on the podium, but he refused.

Smiling politely, the scene was quiet, and Cady Cohen began to speak:

"Ladies and gentlemen, ...... today"

“bang——”

The sound of sniper gunfire echoed through the buildings, and Cady Cohen's head was blown into a cloud of blood directly before the gunshot!

The scene was immediately chaotic, and people skillfully crouched down and began to look for cover, and the screams were incessant.

Looking at the headless corpse that had fallen to the ground and convulsed, the "cleaner" couldn't help but be stunned.

He hasn't shot yet!