NIGHT DROP( A Eric the Red thriller: Book 1)

Oslo, Norway. Rain slicked the streets, reflecting the neon glow of city lights. Eric, a shadow among shadows, moved through the bustling crowd, his Hardigg storm case a heavy, familiar weight in his hand. He navigated the urban labyrinth with the practiced ease of a predator, his eyes scanning for the tell-tale glint of CCTV lenses, avoiding the silent gaze of facial recognition software.

His orders were clear, etched in his mind like a sacred text: eliminate the banker. The intel from his handler, Holiday, had been precise: the security detail favored MP5 submachine guns, a detail Eric logged away for future reference. He spotted the emergency staircase behind the Pareto Bank, a direct path to the rooftop, his chosen vantage point.

In a blur of practiced motion, he was on his knees, assembling the AR-30 sniper rifle, chambering it for .338 Lapua. Through the scope, the banker emerged, briefcase clutched tight, oblivious to the crosshairs settling on his chest. A sudden gust of wind whipped past, a minor detail Eric accounted for with a swift adjustment of the elevation turret. He squeezed the trigger. The world seemed to pause, then shattered.

The banker's head exploded like a ripe melon, splattering blood and brains across his security detail. Chaos erupted. MP5s barked, their operators sweeping the rooftops, searching for the ghost that had delivered death. Eric, already moving, snatched the spent casing, disassembled the rifle, and secured it back in its case. He was a whisper in the wind, already gone, sprinting down the stairs to the waiting Lincoln Nautilus, the next phase of his mission already in motion.