Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 787 - 431 Great, I Can Be Reincarnated Now!_3

787: Chapter 431: Great, I Can Be Reincarnated Now!_3

787 -431: Great, I Can Be Reincarnated Now!_3

The female spy had a long dream.

She dreamt…

of herself riding a roller coaster, making a sharp turn, and vomiting…

Splatter…

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

Her vision gradually adapted, and when it cleared, her heart seized in fear.

A confined space.

She was tied to a chair.

It was over.

She had been captured.

Two men emerged from a shadowy corner.

The leader had triangular eyes, a menacing look, but he constantly wore a smile.

The more he smiled, the more terrifying it felt.

“Allow me to introduce myself.

I’m Jeff Bennett.”

“The Clown?!”

The woman exclaimed in horror.

Jeff Bennett raised an eyebrow and grinned even wider, “Looks like I caught the right fish—a big one.”

He was now serving as the Director of the Mexico Counterintelligence General Bureau, having been promoted.

After infiltrating the central government and assassinating Popovich, he was transferred directly from being the News Bureau director to heading the newly established Counterintelligence Bureau.

Mexico currently has three major intelligence agencies: The Mexico Counterintelligence General Bureau (engaging both domestic and international operations, the top intelligence agency),

The Thirteen Protectors (auditing bureaucratic systems),

The Mexico News Bureau (focused on international intelligence).

Jeff Bennett had already become a substantial figure.

Especially his successful penetration into the Popovich Government, rising to a high-ranking position before killing Popovich—a feat so intricate and brilliant that outsiders could not fathom it.

It was categorized as a classic case by many intelligence agencies.

They couldn’t understand how he climbed to such heights within months within the puppet government.

In the end, they attributed it simply to the fact that “Popovich’s government had plenty of collaborators with the North.”

Jeff Bennett chuckled, “Now, can you tell me which organization you belong to?

And your motives?”

The woman lowered her head and fell silent.

She wasn’t planning to survive; she knew her error had sealed her fate.

“Seems like our new friend isn’t very cooperative.” Jeff’s gaze darkened slightly as he smirked at the man beside him, “Sharpen some pencils for her.”

The interrogator beside him nodded vigorously.

Jeff Bennett sat quietly nearby, observing.

The interrogator grabbed a specially designed peeler, much like the kind used at home for peeling potatoes, except the opening in the middle was larger—just wide enough to fit a finger.

The interrogator seized the woman’s finger and forced it inside.

“What… what are you doing?”

“What do you think?”

The interrogator grinned wide and yanked forcefully.

Scrape…

A single sound!

A chunk of flesh was ripped right off!!!

“Ah!!!!!”

The pain coursed through her body, the scream tore through the small interrogation room.

The woman trembled uncontrollably, overcome with agony.

So that’s what “sharpening pencils” meant.

The interrogator showed no mercy, slicing at the other side of the same finger once more!

The woman’s eyes rolled back as she trembled, her mouth frothing.

Her finger’s bone was now visibly exposed.

Did you think that was the end?

Next came a bottle of disinfectant alcohol, drenched forcefully over her hand.

It was beyond brutal…

Her breathing turned ragged, her body quaking rhythmically from the pain.

“You’ve got nine fingers left.

Oh, wait, my apologies—you still have your toes as well.”

“Kill me, kill me… just kill me!”

The woman’s voice escalated from a soft plea to a heart-wrenching, desperate scream.

The interrogator slapped her, wiping his face, “Damn it, don’t you know your spit is toxic?”

“Are you going to talk or not?

Let’s see if your bones are tougher than our methods.”

Mexico Counterintelligence General Bureau had no shortage of methods.

If you couldn’t endure, they’d inject you with adrenaline.

A doctor was on call at all times to ensure you wouldn’t perish.

Finally, by the third finger, the female spy couldn’t hold out any longer.

She confessed her identity and revealed her upcoming operation in full detail.

She had some backbone; three fingers had been stripped down to bare bone.

When Jeff Bennett heard her mention that Victor had children, his face showed visible tension.

He propped himself up with both hands, “Where did you get this intelligence?”

His first thought was…

Had someone internally betrayed them?

The woman lifted her head weakly and whispered, “The nanny… We bribed the nanny.”

“Don’t let her die.

Make sure she confesses to the rest.

I need to make a report.”

“Understood, sir.”

Jeff Bennett quickly exited the room, storming into his office and urgently calling Casare…

The Counterintelligence Bureau reported directly to Casare.

After repeating the details, a nasal voice came from the other end, “I understand.

Good job, but make sure the rest of the fish are reeled in as well.

Damn it, these rats hiding in the sewers are determined to stay hidden.

Find every last one.”

“Understood.”

Jeff Bennett’s gaze turned cold and malicious.

Casare hung up the call and marched straight to Victor’s office.

When he knocked and entered, a half-grown Tibetan mastiff greeted him, startling him.

Recollecting himself, he sighed in exasperation.

A merchant from Chinatown had gifted a Tibetan mastiff to the National Palace, and Victor adored it.

He carried it around almost every day, despite it being only two or three months old—it was already massive.

The dog seemed to be aware of its elevated status, often roaming downstairs, with everyone it encountered feeding it treats.

Victor had named it AK47.

A remarkably simple name.

“You’re always so busy.

What brings you here?” Victor asked with a smile, stroking the dog’s head.

“Boss…”

Casare recounted the entire sequence of events, visibly tense, “I’ve already ordered the nanny’s arrest.

Should we bolster security further?”

Victor’s good mood was instantly ruined…

“The French bastards want a piece of the action too.

They’ll lick manure if they see it.”

“Catch whoever needs catching, interrogate whoever needs interrogating.

I want to see how many operatives their intelligence agency loses before giving up.”

Casare nodded earnestly.

He too was fully on board with digging deeper.

“Now the Mossad is focusing its attention on us.

Do they already have evidence linking us to the downed plane?”

“Let them know, so what?

What’s there to fear?

If they have the guts, they can come strike me from the Middle East.

It’s no big deal.

If they target us, we’ll make them switch directors again.”

Casare’s eyes gleamed…

“I think… we should cause them some trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Support Palestine.”

…