Beside Beckett, Richard Miller—his father’s old protégé and a man who treated war like a chess match—watched through a spotter scope.
"He’s got a thermal," Beckett muttered. "He's waiting for us to sweat." "Then don't," Miller replied. Sniper: Ultimate Kill
Beckett didn't cheer. He didn't move. He stayed on the glass, watching the tower until the dust settled. but in the jungle
Beckett stood up, his joints popping like gunfire. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and looked toward the horizon. The ghost was gone, but in the jungle, the silence never lasted long. " Miller whispered
"Wind is shifting, three o'clock," Miller whispered, his voice a dry rasp. "Range is eight hundred meters. He’s in the bell tower, third arch from the left."