[ WP ] A stranger approaches you on the street , hands you a gun and a million dollars cash , and says `` you know what to do . '' What happens next ?

I nod to the man, barely perceptible, and he disappears down a side street. All the pieces are in place. I try not to look around, there's no good reason to do it. The streets are deserted. 
 
 I find myself looking over my right shoulder moments later. Instinct does not like to be ignored. 
 
 I enter the apartment building, and I know what room I'm headed to. I climb to the thirteenth floor, the room on the northwest corner will be unlocked. It is. 
 
 I enter the mostly empty apartment, the room is bathed in an early half-light, a full moon struggles to pierce the fog that lingers over the city. Even so, tonight is more clear than most. This was n't my first time in Beijing. I'd been there before, a lifetime ago, had studied there for a year or two. It had n't been what I had in mind at the time, but fluency in many languages was an incredible asset in my business. Mandarin had only been the first. I could converse in Russian, French, and Spanish as well. Arabic too, but not like a native, not yet anyway. 
 
 A quick glance at my watch tells me that I have roughly four and a half hours, if things go to plan. They will, there's little room for error. I wo n't try to sleep, it's pointless, too much nervous energy. I do n't show it anymore, but it's always there. I channel it now; slow, calm, methodical. Make sure every detail is in place, your life may depend on it. 
 
 Instead I unzip the black duffel bag I carried up with me. The rifle's there all right. I've fired the Dragunov before, does n't raise the sort of suspicion other weapons would, or maybe my employers were hoping it would raise just enough. I look through the rifle scope, this one provides about four times magnification, all I would need, presumably, to fire from this room to the adjacent streets. I look at the ammunition, 10 rounds maybe, more than enough. I screw on a suppressor, though there should be enough chaos on the streets below that they wo n't be looking for single gunshots. 
 
 What about my firing position? I wo n't be aiming the rifle out the window, there's nothing more obvious you can do than that, unless maybe you paint an arrow on the outside wall, declaring to the world exactly where you'll be shooting from. 
 
 No, I want to be well back from the window, if possible. There's a table in the room that looks to be the right height. I slide it into position, then climb up onto it carefully. I lay prone and sight down the rifle again; not real comfortable perhaps, but it was a better position. 
 
 I have a few hours to kill. I sit down in a threadbare recliner and pull out Tolstoy's War and Peace. Not the first time I've read the book, but the first time I've read it in Russian. I'm not yet sure whether or not it truly loses anything in translation. 
 
 At 6:47 the first explosion occurred. I did n't realize what a large explosive they'd planned to use, the concussion wave rattled the windows of the building, resounding deep in my chest. I could see the pall of smoke rising five or six blocks away. The motorcade will be redirected onto the alternate route, the first security vehicles should roll down this street any minute. 
 
 Looking out the window I can see some armed vehicles emblazoned with the Ministry of State Security emblem roaring down the street. Army vehicles will probably follow up in a moment. Sirens echo down the streets. This city is going to go into lock down, the clock is already ticking, but I've still got a job to finish. 
 
 People's Liberation Army APCs are rolling down the streets now, machine guns scanning the endless rows of windows along the street. One, two, three drive by. The target vehicles should be approaching next. Two and a half minutes since the initial blast. Escape window approximately fifteen minutes. 
 
 The first limousine approaches the intersection, police motorcycles drive on either side. I see it draw parallel to the pile of trash on the left street corner and await the second blast. One... two... 
 
 The explosion is powerful enough to flip the vehicle and roll it into the neighboring building. The next car careens right, skidding into the center of the intersection. The rattle of automatic weapons fire begins, and I can see the ground element leaning out of the lower level windows, firing assault rifles at the stalled limo. 
 
 Those guys were locals, liberals or students or something. It did n't really matter, they were dead men. Unless the MSS got them, which would be worse. Now really my problem. I would have cared once, but the real world squeezes the idealism out of you. I'd never take part in anything'evil' or anything like that; in fact, I'd never admit it but I get squeamish when it comes to civilian casualties too. But I've still done some unsavory things as well. We do what we need to to get by, some of us do, and some of us, like the poor bastards out in the street right now, wo n't. 
 
 I shake my head, focus, aim the rifle. I can see security agents firing small arms back at the ground element, hunkering down behind the car. The target vehicle has stopped just short of the intersection, but ca n't back out because now there are PLA armored vehicles behind it. I do n't have a great angle into the back of the car, but it's not going to get any better, time to go to work. 
 
 I take a deep breath, let half of it go, stop. I've got the cross-hairs lined up where I know the driver to be, even through the dark window tint. I squeeze the trigger, and the rifle jumps. The windshield of the limousine spiderwebs with cracks from the single bullet hole. The car remains still. 
 
 I try to line up a shot towards the rear of the vehicle. This is where I need the target to panic. 
 
 And for a minute, it looks like they wo n't. But they do. Instinct drives people to take action, even if they'd be safer staying put. Instinct is the key to the whole thing. Control it, anticipate it, manipulate it. An exercise in psychology, but a lecture for another time. 
 
 The targets bail out of the vehicle, diving to the pavement on the near side, opposite the shooters on the ground. Good, they've made it easier. I line up the shot again. The two Russians do n't even notice when I shoot my first target, the Chinese minster. I silently say goodbye to Economics Minister Wei, and then to the Minister of State Security. General Liu also takes a bullet, for good measure. I knew quite well who my targets were. I'd never take a job without knowing who I'm after, if the target description is vague, mistakes will happen. Or it could be a sting operation, or any other number of scenarios. 
 
 In any case, it's time to go. I do n't need to worry about disposing of the rifle. Nothing in the room will survive. There's enough plastic explosive planted to destroy the interior, and hopefully not bring down the building. I was careful about that. I do n't want innocents to die. Not any more, not after Mexico City. 
 
 I glance at my watch, maybe 10 minutes left. Get away from here, do it quick, then act like a scared foreigner. The backpack full of money would leave the country in dribs and drabs, not all at once. I do n't get careless and make mistakes like that. That's how they get you. 
 
 I shut the door to the room. An elderly man is leaning out the door of the neighboring apartment, I see his wife standing just behind him, the fear in both of their eyes. Terrible timing. The only people in the area that could possibly tie me to this. 
 
 I'm halfway down the hallway when I pause. 
 
 “ 请把, 先生'' I begin, `` Please, sir.'' 
 
 `` Leave this place. Quickly. It is too dangerous for you here.'' 
 
 He shouts at my back. He demands to know who I am, what's happening, the typical questions of a clueless man in a terrifying situation. 
 
 I'm already down the first flight of stairs. It's time to get out of Dodge, and I hope I did n't just seal my fate.
