Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 702 He went up and threw a flurry of left hooks.

Belize Police Headquarters, in a closed interrogation room.

A pale, energy-saving light bulb overhead hummed, illuminating Fermín's normally oily face until it appeared completely bloodless.

He has been interrogated here for more than two hours. Faced with repeated questions from police officers about the "object from outer space," the casino's VIP room, Carlos, and the potential sales network, he has remained clenched his teeth and put on an expression more wronged than Dou E.

"Sir, I really don't know what you're talking about."

Fermín spread his hands, the handcuffs on his wrists rattling, and he tried to make his voice sound aggrieved and helpless, "Neptune Casino is a licensed entertainment venue in the Special Administrative Region. We strictly abide by all laws and regulations. How could we possibly be involved in drugs? This is absolutely a false accusation!"

He became increasingly agitated as he spoke, "How could I possibly do something so suicidal? You have to believe me!"

"I am a good person!"

What the hell would a good person work at a casino?

Across the interrogation table, Chief Schultz sat in silence, having had enough of this baseless sophistry.

Finally, he raised his hand, signaling the officer in charge of taking notes and the assistant next to him who was asking questions to stop.

He stood up and slowly walked to Fermín's side. His tall figure cast a shadow under the light, completely enveloping Fermín.

"Manager Fermín."

Schultz's voice wasn't loud, but his tone was very unfriendly. "I'm giving you a chance to speak for yourself, to leave you a way out. Do you think we're playing house with you? Without solid evidence, I'll personally lead a team to seal off Neptune and bring you here."

Fermyn's Adam's apple bobbed, and he raised his head, forcing a calm expression: "Chief, where's the evidence? You've searched, you've questioned, have you found a single gram of drugs? No, right? Then this is a frame-up!"

Schultz leaned down, his face almost touching Fermín's, and said, word by word, "The casino's surveillance cameras just happened to be broken, the VIP room staff all suffered from amnesia, and then there was Elena Morales, who tried to kill someone at headquarters to cover it up. Is all of this just a coincidence? Fermín, do you think we're all idiots?"

Fermín's eyes flickered as he avoided Schulz's sharp gaze, and he stubbornly said, "I don't know anything about Morales. The casino's surveillance system is faulty, and the waiter might just be scared. That doesn't prove anything!"

Schultz stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly grinned. He straightened up, turned to look at the surveillance camera with a red dot lit up in the corner, and nodded slightly.

The next second, the red dot on the camera went out with a "snap".

The only third-party "eye" in the interrogation room closed its eyes.

Fermín's heart sank, and an ominous premonition gripped him instantly.

"I'm sorry, the police station's surveillance cameras also happen to be broken."

He watched as Schultz slowly and methodically pulled a stun baton that gleamed with a metallic glint from his belt, expertly pressed the switch, and a chilling crackling blue electric arc immediately erupted from the tip of the baton.

"What...what do you want to do? Chief Schultz! This is illegal! Police officers cannot use torture to extract confessions!"

Fermín finally panicked and instinctively tried to back away, chair and all, but the chair was fixed to the ground and wouldn't budge.

Schultz approached step by step, his smile growing increasingly sinister. "Law? Forced confession? Who told you I'm talking to you about the law?"

"Once you're inside, I am the law."

I'm trying to reason with you, but you won't listen. Do you think I'm some kind of good person?

He gently tapped Fermín's terrified, cold cheek with the stun baton; the faint electric arc sent a shiver down Fermín's spine.

“Fermin, it seems you still don’t understand the situation.” Schultz leaned close to his ear. “In Belize, in this land where Mr. Victor is in charge, dealing with parasites and cancerous growths like you sometimes requires unconventional methods. Talking about procedural justice with a piece of trash like you who won’t listen to reason? That’s an insult to justice!”

He straightened up abruptly, his eyes instantly turning fierce, and roared, "I'm not a cop today! I'm a bandit cleaning up Mr. Victor's house! Tell me! Who's the supplier! Who else in the casino is involved! Who's protecting you?!"

Before he could finish speaking, Schultz gave Fermín no chance to argue again, grabbed his head, and shoved the stun gun into Fermín's outside thigh!

“Ahhhhh——!”

The high-voltage current instantly pierced through Fermín's body!
He let out a bloodcurdling scream, his whole body convulsing and spasming violently! His teeth clenched so tightly they rattled, his eyes rolled back wildly, and saliva dripped uncontrollably from the corners of his mouth.

A foul, pungent odor instantly filled the air—

He was incontinent.

The electric shock lasted for about three seconds, but for Fermín, when Schultz removed the stun gun, he slumped into the chair like a lump of mud.

Schultz looked at him expressionlessly. "How does it taste? This is just the appetizer. Are you going to tell me or not?"

Fermín was breathing weakly, his lips trembling, as if he was still trying to hold on.

Without hesitation, Schultz thrust the stun gun into his other thigh again, this time deliberately twisting it!
"Ugh! Stop! Stop! I'll talk! I'll talk!"

I thought it could hold up pretty well.

Pshaw, you little piece of trash. Back then, when I, the author of this dog, was electrocuted, I didn't even utter a sound.

Schultz then moved the stun gun away and looked down at him: "Why didn't you just give in earlier? What were you pretending to be, playing the tough guy?"

With tears streaming down his face, Fermín began to confess in broken sentences: "The goods... the source of the goods was contacted through a Russian. The transaction location was different each time. In the casino, Arturo, the head of the VIP area, and Diego, the captain of security, both knew about it."

He poured it out like beans were being poured out.

It hurts, it really hurts so much.

Schultz didn't rush to process the intelligence Fermín had provided.

He emerged from the interrogation room, took a deep breath of the relatively fresh air in the corridor, and whispered to his trusted subordinates standing guard outside: "Give more pressure to Arturo, the VIP area supervisor, and Diego, the security captain. Get their statements as soon as possible, compare them with Fermín's, and be careful not to kill them. They still have a use."

"Understood, Chief!" The subordinate understood immediately and led his men to the other two interrogation rooms.

Schultz went to the bathroom and vigorously scrubbed his face with tap water, trying to wash away the violence and fatigue from the interrogation.

Looking at his slightly bloodshot eyes in the mirror, he knew that the storm had only just begun.

Just then, a police officer rushed in and knocked on the bathroom door: "Chief, Mr. Cesar Torres is here with his lawyer. He's very agitated and wants to see you immediately."

Schultz paused as he wiped his face.

César Torres, the registered legal representative and largest shareholder of the Neptune Casino, is also one of the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region's well-known tycoons, known for his shrewd business acumen and his detached relationship with the political and business circles.

On the surface, this person is a successful entertainment tycoon, but there are many rumors about him in private, but he has never been caught red-handed before.

"It came so quickly."

“Have him wait in my office.” A few minutes later, the atmosphere in Schultz’s office was so tense it was almost explosive.

César Torres indeed looked accusatory, with two lawyers standing behind him.

Although Torres tried to remain calm, his slightly twitching eyes and clenched fists betrayed his true emotions.

“Director Schultz!” As soon as he saw Schultz enter, Torres stepped forward, his voice sharp with suppressed anger. “I need an explanation, immediately! By what right have you arbitrarily closed my casino and detained my employees without solid evidence? Do you know how much economic loss ‘Neptune’ will cause if it closes for even a day? How much damage will this do to the reputation of the Special Administrative Region? I am a major taxpayer in the Special Administrative Region, making a huge contribution to its economic prosperity! Is this how you treat legitimate businessmen? I want fairness! I want justice!”

His lawyer immediately chimed in, his tone firm: "Chief, our client has a fully legal business license. If the police have any doubts, they should investigate according to legal procedures, instead of resorting to such extreme measures as sealing off the premises. This seriously infringes upon our legitimate rights, and we reserve the right to pursue legal action!"

Schultz calmly walked to his desk and sat down, without immediately responding to their barrage of questions.

He slowly took a document out of the drawer, then picked up the internal phone on the table and said, "Bring me the preliminary interrogation transcript."

Then, he raised his eyes, looked at Cesar Torres, whose face was flushed with anger, picked up the freshly printed copy of the interrogation transcript that his subordinate had just brought in, and weighed it in his hand.

"Your general manager, Fermín, has just confessed to providing and inducing certain clients to use a new type of drug called 'Alien Object' in the VIP room of the Neptune Casino over a long period of time. This includes, but is not limited to, the son of the wealthy businessman Carlos and others. The witnesses, some physical evidence, and his own confession are all here."

Cesar Torres's expression suddenly changed!
"No, that's impossible... Fermín is talking nonsense!!"

The lawyer behind Torres immediately stepped forward, adjusted his glasses, and said sternly, "Chief! A statement obtained under abnormal interrogation conditions and whose authenticity is questionable cannot be used as the basis for a conviction. My client has the right to question the legality of this statement. We demand an immediate meeting with our client, Mr. Fermín, and to ensure that his legal rights are not violated! This is a right granted to us by law!"

"Rights?" Schultz's facial muscles twitched. He suddenly grabbed the heavy glass ashtray on his desk and smashed it down on the incessantly talking lawyer without warning!
"Fuck your rights!"

The ashtray traced a sharp arc and struck the lawyer with perfect precision on the temple!

The lawyer screamed in agony as blood gushed from his head. He staggered backward, his glasses flying off.

But this is not over yet!
Like an enraged lion, Schultz rushed around the desk and began to viciously punch and kick the lawyer who was lying on the ground. Each kick landed solidly on flesh, making a dull "thump" sound.

"What kind of lawyer is this! Talking to me about the law? You're trying to pull a fast one on my turf!"

"Whether I enforce the law or not, and how I enforce it, is none of your business, you dog in a suit, to tell me what to do."

"Lawyer? I'll let you have a lawyer!!"

He hit and cursed at the same time, spewing out profanities like a machine gun.

Schultz only stopped, panting, when the lawyer on the ground was left only with the strength to groan.

He straightened the collar of his police uniform, which had become slightly disheveled from the large movements, and then took out a small comb from the inside pocket of his uniform. He slowly and carefully combed his slightly messy hair back to its original neatness.

After doing all this, he looked down at the lawyer curled up on the ground. "You scum, you think you're so great? Let me tell you, before I wore this police uniform, when I was a soldier fighting bandits on the border, someone like you who talks too much nonsense would have been shoved into a cannon and blasted into the sky long ago. Talking to me? I spit on you!"

These thuggish words completely silenced the crowd.

The other lawyer that Cesar Torres brought was already pale with fright, his mouth tightly shut, not daring to utter another word.

I'm a lawyer, not a sorcerer.

Even mages would be screaming in terror if they encountered melee fighters.

Schultz then turned his head, staring intently at Cesar Torres, his eyes narrowed. "You say I framed you? Ha, if I really wanted to frame you, with all that shady stuff you did in the casino, do you think you'd still be standing here unscathed talking to me? You, and your whole family, would be fish food in some gutter long ago!"

Torres' Adam's apple bobbed violently, and a fine layer of cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Schultz's words, though crude, struck at his deepest fears.

Seeing Torres's momentum completely crushed, Schulz took a deep breath and softened his tone slightly, "I know, Fermín is your beautiful mistress's brother. Don't look at me with that surprised look. I know all about your shady dealings!"

He pointed towards the interrogation room: "Now, go in and talk to him yourself. Make him spill everything he knows, who he's dealing with, who his protectors are, spill it all! Cooperate well, and maybe he'll have a chance to live. If he keeps hiding anything..."

Schultz snorted coldly, not finishing his sentence, but the implication was clear.

Cesar Torres' face was extremely pale. Under Schulz's fierce gaze, he nodded with difficulty and said in a hoarse voice, "Fine, I'll go talk to him."

Led by a police officer, Torres entered the oppressive interrogation room.

The moment the door closed, Torres saw Fermín slumped in his chair, disheveled and with a vacant look in his eyes. His pent-up anger and fear found an outlet. He rushed forward, swung his arm, and "Slap! Slap!" delivered two resounding slaps to Fermín's face!
"You idiot! Moron!" Torres roared, though his voice was low, "What on earth happened?"

Torres slapped Fermín's face with full force, the two blows producing a dull thud.

Fermín's head lolled to one side from the blow, his eyes becoming even more unfocused, and he made meaningless "hoarse" sounds as saliva mixed with tears streamed down his face.

"Speak up, you bastard! What's going on? What's the deal with that Russian?!"

Torres grabbed Fermín by the collar, his voice low and roaring. He was very anxious. How could he not be anxious?

One of Mexico's three major crimes: drug trafficking!
But Fermín hadn't recovered from the extreme pain and was just repeating incoherently, "Electricity... Russia... Devil... Stop shocking me... I'll tell you... I'll tell you, stop shocking me!!"

Seeing his brother-in-law's utterly devastated state, Torres' anger flared, and he slapped him twice more.

Anxious and corrupt.

Just then, there was a knock on the interrogation room door, and one of Schultz's trusted detectives pushed the door open and handed Schultz a newly compiled report, whispering, "Chief, the testimonies from the other two sides have also come out. VIP supervisor Arturo and security captain Diego, without much effort, both pointed to the same person, Ivan Petrenko. They said that all the extraterrestrial objects entered the casino through this Russian, and were personally contacted by Fermín. They were only responsible for the security and covert distribution within the VIP room."

The detective paused, then added, "According to their statements, this Ivan is very cautious, always changing the location of his transactions, using disposable phones, and is reportedly armed. He's a desperate criminal. They only know that Ivan's general area of ​​activity is the old dock area in the west of the city and the adjacent chaotic streets, but he has no fixed address."

Schultz took the report, glanced at it quickly, and looked at the pale-faced Torres. "Did you hear that? Mr. Torres, your good manager and good employee are quite consistent in their story. Ivan Petrenko, that Russian outsider, he's got some nerve, daring to run wild on my turf."

He patted Torres's chest with the report in his hand. "Now, do you still think I'm framing you? Your casino has become the most important sales hub in this drug chain. As the legal representative, can you escape responsibility?"

Torres' lips trembled as he tried to explain, but the facts spoke louder than words.

He lowered his head dejectedly, his voice hoarse: "Chief... I really didn't know anything about it. It was all that bastard Fermín who did it behind my back. I'm willing to cooperate fully with the police to arrest that Ivan Petrenko!"

Schultz scoffed: "Cooperate? Do you have any other choice but to cooperate now?"

He turned to the detectives and said, “Distribute Ivan Petrenko’s photo and description immediately. Issue a city-wide warrant for his arrest, with a focus on searching the old dock area. Turn Belize upside down, but find this Russian!”

"Yes, Chief!" The detective stood at attention, saluted, and quickly turned to leave to make his arrangements.

"Torres, you'd better pray nothing else goes wrong before you catch Ivan. As for Fermín..."

He glanced at the incontinent man with disgust. "Lock him up first. We'll deal with the ringleader when we catch him!"

"All you can do now is kneel here and pray to Mr. Victor tonight."

……

(End of this chapter)