"The footage you see here," General Steel announced, "was taken from an ATM surveillance camera across the plaza from the restaurant in Milan where our target was eliminated. Our computer team was able to computer-enhance, using state-of-the-art computers, the original black and white low-resolution one-frame-per-second video feed into the full-color high-definition 30- frame-per-second digital file you see here. In addition, we further processed the data to bring out important details usually visible only in the infrared."
The screen silently showed a number of diners enjoying their meals and chatting at a crowded outdoor bistro. Tourists milled to and fro across the adjoined piazza snapping pictures of each other standing awkwardly in front of various pieces of statuary, while locals smoked cigarettes, rode bicycles, and sold souvenirs from overladen carts. A couple of children kicked a soccer ball in the morning sunlight. A typical day in any Italian city.
At the touch of a button, the General zoomed in and slowed the recording to one-quarter speed. A hugely fat middle-aged man in a white suit and the table at which he was sipping coffee now occupied much of the scene.
Enrico Fantagucci, notorious weapons dealer and human trafficker, put down his cup and summoned to someone off camera. A waiter arrived and presented him his check and cleared the table, temporarily blocking the target from the camera's view. When the waiter slowly turned to depart with the dirty dishes and payment for the meal, Enrico was visible again and reaching for his ivory-colored fedora. Now a bright red spot, brought into visible spectrum by the digital magicry of the processed footage but invisible to him, appeared in the center of his gaudy paisley cravat.
He continued to reach for his hat in super slow motion as another red light joined the first. Then another. And another.
By the time his chubby ringed fingers had touched the felt of the brim over one hundred infrared lights from snipers hidden in discrete locations around the plaza decorated his massive chest. He had no idea he had mere seconds to live.
The lights began to meet. They simultaneously converged to an impossibly bright dime-sized spot nine inches below his short-cut beard. His tie instantly erupted into flames from the combined thermal energy of dozens and dozens of low powered IR lasers.
He leaped up, knocking his chair backwards and began to futilely beat at the flames with his hat. Even with no audio it was obvious that he was screaming. The waiter and several of the restaurant patrons turned toward him in alarm.
Just then, a watermelon-sized hole produced by scores of simultaneously fired high-powered rifle rounds appeared in his torso. Four throwing stars and a blowgun dart lodged in the fat in the side of his neck. He looked down comically and slumped to the ground, dead, as panic overtook the curiosity of the now-fleeing lookers-on.
(To Be Continued...)
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