Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 263 Interrogation Results
The two CIA agents had fallen into a complete mental breakdown. Sensory deprivation causes irreversible physiological damage to the brain, and their logic had collapsed.

Because Milton ruthlessly destroyed their carefully constructed anchor of reality, and coupled with the effects of drugs, they were now completely unable to distinguish whether what they were seeing or hearing was their own imagination or a hallucination.

They have even completely lost the logic to distinguish right from wrong.

Madison performed the worst among them. After he realized that the anchor he established using his sense of smell was completely unreliable, he began to try to force himself to hold his breath and actively suppress his breathing.

It's important to understand that there are physiological limits to voluntarily holding one's breath, because the human respiratory center will trigger spontaneous breathing when oxygen deficiency and carbon dioxide retention reach a certain level... At this moment, Madison was forcibly using his willpower to fight against the human breathing instinct, so you can imagine how bad his mental state was.

Even after the doctors had taken control of his body and were about to put him on a ventilator, he clenched his teeth and stiffened his chest, as if breathing was something terrible, as if any gas was an illusion that would lead him to the abyss.

As an agent of SAD, even when she was at her wit's end and her consciousness was not very clear, her subconscious resistance made the doctors find it very difficult to deal with.

"His resistance is too strong. First, give the patient... the prisoner of war a sedative!"

"Midazolam plus rocuronium bromide muscle relaxant, intravenous bolus... Guard, don't just watch, help us hold him down! Use restraints to hold his limbs! Holy crap!"

"Anesthesiologists, come here, intubation!"

"..."

Milton watched as the doctor and the guards who had been called in at the last minute fought a chaotic scene, almost like a battle, before finally managing to control Madison, who was refusing to breathe, and forcibly started giving him oxygen.

Even so, Madison showed extreme fear and resistance when pressurized oxygen was applied to his various tactile senses.

Flora stared in disbelief: "They collapsed way too quickly!"

“This method is still being tested and improved. Even the CIA hasn’t yet found the most effective way to counter it.” Milton watched as the two were lifted into an ambulance and taken to the hospital. He said slowly, “Moreover, in their minds, the way they had painstakingly built up over nearly a week to escape the predicament turned out to be part of an ‘illusion.’ This kind of blow is almost catastrophic for them, who were already on the verge of a mental breakdown.”

"Such mental health issues and drug side effects will accompany them for life—that agent named Madison, just by smelling the slightest bit of a pungent odor, will recall what happened today and his 'breath phobia'."

"Of course... these are things that Americans need to consider."

"Now we even need to help them rebuild their confidence, otherwise we won't get anything out of them."

Flora nodded slightly: "What do you plan to do? Arsu is already using this to pressure us, as if if we don't hand over the people, he'll find a scapegoat and can gain more American support by blaming us."

“They’ll be fine after a few more sleeps.” Milton waved his hand. “Their external stimuli have returned, they just don’t want to believe it… But just as ‘sensory deprivation’ isn’t simply a psychological attack, it’s not something that can be changed by a person’s own will; no matter how unwilling they are to believe it subconsciously, the fact is that they’ve come out of the interrogation room, and they will eventually realize it.”

"How do you plan to get them to sleep... Fine, never mind. After what you've done to these two, their lives are definitely over."

Getting someone to "fall asleep," and into the deepest, almost instantaneous sleep, is incredibly easy—just anesthesia will do.

As for the ingredients used to induce anesthesia, there would be no shortage of even a single one.

Milton was even more pleased with the irreversible lifelong effects of such frequent anesthesia.

"..."

Soon, the two arrived at the hospital in an armored car, following closely behind the ambulance.

The two CIA agents are being held in a high-security prison cell and are receiving further "treatment".

This is what Milton called "sleeping".

Milton could tell that the doctors were clearly hesitant to speak, wanting to object from a professional standpoint to this "medical malpractice" level of outrageous operation.

But after thinking about it, they realized that the people on the other side were "hellish tax collectors," so they could only sigh and follow the instructions to anesthetize the two agents.

Medical matters are professional issues, but with Milton involved, it becomes a political issue...

Milton's method did indeed work; in just one day, the two prisoners of war's mental state had barely stabilized.

At least on the surface, the hallucinations and auditory hallucinations have decreased significantly, the logic of his speech is barely coherent, he no longer tries to swallow himself, and he no longer resists breathing.

The two of them showed almost no resistance anymore. After their mental state had barely stabilized, they went from being extremely agitated to extremely depressed, and they only reacted passively to almost everything.

“We can begin the interrogation now.” Milton glanced at his watch. “Arsu urged us again; he’s really in a hurry. Let’s go, we’ll split up and interrogate them.”

Interrogation of prisoners of war who have suffered severe psychological trauma is no longer a difficult task.

The only thing that needs to be done is to compare the two people's testimonies and eliminate the things they imagined.

Madison, who had been so arrogant and ambitious, thinking of turning Milton against him, sat down in front of Milton once again.

This time, however, he seemed like a completely different person.

Madison even shuddered upon entering the interrogation room because of the smell of disinfectant.

Milton waited calmly for him to sit down before asking, "I understand that several major drug cartels in Mexico have begun to cooperate, but the specific details are unclear. Do you have any relevant information?"

Logically speaking, this kind of questioning is not pressing or intimidating enough, and professionals could easily find a way to take the initiative. However, Madison did not even have the slightest thought of confrontation. He listened to the question quietly and replied, "They have established the 'Pan-American Cartel' underground. Its core members are the former Guadalajara Big Three, and the Gulf Group has joined their cooperative organization."

"It also absorbed some small drug trafficking groups from the surrounding area."

“Apart from CJNG, it can be said that the vast majority of well-known drug cartels in Mexico have joined this alliance.”

“Even CJNG chose to continue fighting because of us… Without a powerful enemy, the Pan American Cartel would definitely get out of control.”

After Madison finished speaking, he shut his mouth and waited for Milton's next question.

“You are organizing a naval operation to encircle and annihilate me.” Milton nodded slightly. “Tell me the details.”

“It’s still the Pan-American Cartel,” Madison said. “The Mexican president is planning to stay in office a little longer under the pretext of a ‘state of emergency’ to find a way out for himself… Just then, my supervisor went to him and told him that if the navy decommissioned a few gunboats and sold them to drug cartels, the CIA could protect him and allow him to escape to Britain after he leaves office.”

“The navy has always colluded with drug cartels. Now that it’s a state of emergency, the Mexican government is short of money. As long as there is presidential authorization, selling some older, smaller boats is not a problem.”

"Of course there are other underground transactions, but that has nothing to do with us, and I don't know the specifics."

Mexico... that's a country with a real navy, with real frigates and destroyers!
The "small ship" mentioned by the CIA agent may not actually be that small.

Milton turned a page and continued, "Which ships are being transferred specifically?"

"As far as I know, there are six in total. Five of them are assault boats, which look like speedboats, have some armor, and are equipped with machine guns. I didn't pay much attention to the models, but the differences are not significant." Madison cooperated very well. "The most important one is actually just that one... the MSF frigate."

"A frigate developed by the U.S. Navy during World War II, with a displacement of over 600 tons and a cruising speed of 13 knots... It has two 76mm main guns, two twin 40mm autocannons and three 20mm autocannons. I don't know much about the other weapon parameters, but you can look them up yourself; it's not hard to find."

"It's mainly to suppress your 'Tax Scorpion'."

In terms of tonnage, it has indeed been suppressed...

However, this makes sense. The ship is quite old and it was due for decommissioning. Its specifications on paper are just right to suppress Milton's current naval power, so it is indeed reasonable for it to be secretly sold to a drug cartel.

Larger ships, those from more recent years, are not something Mexican President Salinas can easily sell off as he pleases.

No matter how corrupt they are, the president and the military can't do whatever they want. Selling a ship that's about to be decommissioned and isn't very large is the limit they can manage in a short time.

Milton noted down this important information and then asked, "The third question is: the CIA once planned an operation against the DEA in Tapachula. Who was the mastermind, and what was the objective?"

“Our station chief, Fergus Fletcher,” Madison answered very quickly. “The team’s top leader reports directly to CIA headquarters… The purpose is simple: the CIA wants to protect its intelligence network, which contains too many drug dealer informants and key nodes composed of too many drug lords.”

“That DEA team is investigating too deeply and refusing to cooperate with us. If we let them continue investigating, not only will the entire intelligence network be severely damaged, but some shady criminal activities may also be exposed. In that case, we’ll have no choice but to eliminate them. As for whether there was any transfer of benefits involved, I don’t know; I’m not responsible for that.”

Milton finally asked, "Is there anything else you want to say?"

He made no threats because he believed Madison would remember those dark days before lying.

Madison shook his head decisively: "The CIA must have other plans, such as cooperation with the Guatemalan government... but I'm in charge of SAD in Mexico, so I don't know much about that."

"I've told you basically everything I know."

“Very good.” Milton nodded and stood up. “I will check the information you provided. The doctor will be here soon. Be sure to take your medication as prescribed. They will stabilize your mind… otherwise, I don’t know what will happen. But I believe you don’t want to recall those unpleasant things again, do you?”

Madison's hand trembled slightly.

Milton left the interrogation room and carefully compared the intelligence they had each obtained with Flora, who had come out earlier.

There are basically no problems.

"It seems that this is all we've gained. We know exactly what the threat at sea is, and we know exactly which enemies are gathering and preparing to deal with us... The gains are not bad," Milton said. "Those drug traffickers are inherently very divided, and it will take quite a while for them to truly divide the spoils and unite. In the near future, there shouldn't be any major problems with our rear."

"The most critical task now is to protect our oil, refineries and railways... We must not let them be destroyed by the enemy."

Flora shoved the documents into Milton's hand and yawned: "Well, can we release them now? There was just a notification from the airport that the Arsu government sent several diplomats with a few Americans to our airport. It seems they really can't wait a moment longer."

Milton chuckled. "Extradition requires Supreme Court approval and review of US documents and evidence. How did the process go through so quickly?"

“Yes, legally speaking, we should release them now.” Flora chuckled. “I just wonder what they’ll think when they see that the people we released are in such good spirits?”

“That’s their problem.” Milton waved his hand. “Have they finished their medication? If they have, take them away and put them on a plane… Anyway, once they’re out of our territory, what happens to these two is none of our business. They can die anywhere, just not here.”

"They've finished eating, let's take them away..." "..."

……

Quetzaltenango, a restaurant that caters to foreign guests.

An official from the Guatemalan Ministry of Foreign Affairs, accompanied by an American consular attaché and another unidentified American, stood in the now-empty lobby, looking somewhat anxious and dissatisfied.

The consular attaché said somewhat discontentedly, “We’ve been waiting here for two hours. No matter how much traffic there is, we should be able to see the people we want to see… Now, the two American citizens must be extradited!”

The CIA officer who was casually slashed by Milton claimed that he died from his injuries after failing to respond to treatment in the hospital.

At that time, cannons were used, and only one person died, so this excuse is not a big problem.

As for the body, Milton also had the hospital handle it—the parts that were cut off and made into souvenirs were made into "amputations," and the other parts were faked to look like a failed surgery.

So much time has passed that many inconsistencies cannot be proven. Even if Milton were to reveal that he was the one who killed the man, once the body is sent to the United States, there will be no way to find any substantial evidence.

They all knew what Milton was all about, and they came over quickly to tell him to take it easy and not be too reckless.

So much so that they didn't have much time to see firsthand what changes had actually occurred in this region where American intelligence had completely fallen out of service.

An official from the State Taxation Administration replied calmly, "The State Taxation Administration is currently verifying the tax situation of these two individuals in the local area and is following the legally prescribed procedures. Please don't worry, as I said, you will see the people you want within 24 hours."

"Ha...the tax collector of hell."

The official diplomat said arrogantly, "Hand them over now, or you'll cause a diplomatic incident that you won't be able to handle in the end!"

"You will see the person you want within 24 hours."

"you!"

Just then, several heavily armed guards walked in from outside.

A convoy of vehicles, seemingly under high security, drove up to the hotel in perfect formation and then stopped in perfect formation.

All discussion ended, and all eyes turned to that direction.

Soon, two well-dressed Americans were taken off the bus under the guard of several police officers.

The diplomat sent by Arsu wanted to say something, but after thinking about it, he realized that even though the CIA had done everything it could to rescue them, these two were being extradited as criminals, so he kept quiet.

The consular attaché did not rush to accept them, but instead lifted the two men's clothes and carefully inspected them.

The first person had no obvious external injuries...

When Madison was examined, the scars on his arm from fingernails were so obvious that the consular attaché immediately protested: "I suspect you have committed inhumane acts against American citizens! This is a serious violation of human rights. Even criminals have the most basic right to be free from torture and forced confessions!"

The police officer in charge of escorting him glanced at him indifferently: "Watch your words, diplomat. Take another look, compare them carefully. These scratches are from his own scratching, and have nothing to do with us... Scars caused by someone grabbing your hand and forcibly scratching you wouldn't look like this."

“We have done everything we could to treat these two criminals well! Did the food they ate look like torture? Did they show any fear when they were talking to Mr. ‘Godfather’? They weren’t even handcuffed!”

"This is a diplomatic setting, and everything you say carries weight. If you continue to show any signs of frivolity, arrogance, or even slander, we will regretfully announce that we refuse to cooperate with you and request that a different diplomat be sent."

The consular attaché was taken aback by the other party's firm stance. After a moment of hesitation and a careful examination of the injuries, he could only say, "I'm sorry, I was a bit too hasty."

After confirming that neither of them had any external injuries, the officer said, "Are you sure everything is alright? Once they leave our territory, these two have nothing to do with us. We will not accept any further charges and will not bear any responsibility."

"Everything's fine now, let's go..."

After completing all the formalities, the consular attaché quickly helped the two CIA agents into the car, where they boarded a plane bound for Guatemala City.

There they will refuel the plane and fly directly to Miami without any transfers.

The consular staff breathed a sigh of relief only after the plane took off.

The consular attaché stood up, opened his mouth to release the pressure in his ears, walked over to the two rescued CIA agents, and reassured them, "Alright... you're safe now. The plane will be flying back to the United States soon, and you'll all have a vacation."

To be honest, the consular attaché felt something was off. These two CIA agents seemed oblivious to their surroundings from the very beginning and remained silent throughout.

What's even stranger is that after boarding the plane, instead of feeling relieved from their ordeal, the two of them exhibited some unusual behaviors.

Upon smelling the distinctly different odors inside the plane compared to the outdoors, Madison's eyes flashed with barely suppressed anxiety.

When the plane took off and caused discomfort in his ears, another agent's hands were trembling.

The effects of the medications they took in the interrogation room are wearing off, and they're about to become unable to suppress their psychological trauma!
Madison suppressed his extreme anxiety and forced out, "Um... I understand."

Upon arrival at Guatemala City airport, after the Guatemalan officials were seen off the plane, several more people boarded.

They were Madison's colleagues in the CIA.

Along the way, to soothe their colleagues' emotions, they kept chatting and joking, telling stories from the past few days, while also taking the opportunity to mock Milton, saying that this so-called "hell tax collector" looked so powerful, but under pressure from the United States, he still had to obediently release people.

"Brother, you're amazing! You survived this time, you're definitely going to get a promotion!"

"Come on, let's get off the plane. We'll show you around and make it up to you. You didn't have a good Christmas in that awful place, did you? We'll make up for it..."

After saying that, the group surrounded Madison and prepared to leave the plane.

Madison suppressed his irritation and tinnitus, and forced himself to take two steps forward... Then, he passed by the airplane's toilet.

Someone just used the restroom here.

Although the taste was very mild, the effects of the drug on Madison had worn off, and just a little stimulation immediately plunged him into memories from not long ago, stinging his extremely fragile mind.

Madison, suffering from epilepsy, screamed and collapsed to the ground, rolling around wildly, desperately pinching his nose to prevent even a tiny bit of the odor signal from reaching his brain, all while everyone stared in disbelief.

"what!!!"

"Don't come any closer! Don't come any closer!"

"what--"

"..."

The gruesome scene left everyone speechless, their minds blank for a moment. A CIA officer stood there for a full three seconds before shouting, "Damn it... quick, call a doctor! Get him some sedatives!"

"Control him, let him breathe... calm him down, don't be too violent!"

"Madison definitely has very serious mental problems!"

"Holy crap, what did Milton do to him?!"

……

The Guatemalan government.

President Arsu, holding the phone receiver, unconsciously stood up as he spoke, his face beaming with pride, as if he weren't the one who had almost caused the government to go bankrupt.

With the loan secured, the crisis during his term was effectively contained.

If something goes wrong in the future, that's the future president's problem, and it has nothing to do with him.

Now Arsu has a lot of cash on hand, and all kinds of advanced American equipment are about to be shipped to the port... He is even trying to get real American troops to enter the Guatemalan government forces directly under the guise of an instructor team!

For Arzu, he believes the biggest crisis is over, and that Mexico's CJNG, the Chiapas state government, and Coca-Cola have bought the Guatemalan government, which is in crisis, precious breathing room with their lives.

Milton won big and gained huge profits, but Arsu didn't consider himself a loser.

"The person you want is already on the plane to the United States, and should be landing soon... I told you, Milton is a bully who picks on the weak and fears the strong. With the Supreme Court signing the documents and another American going, he'll have no choice but to comply!"

"Sigh... Let me tell you, the new equipment is good, but nobody knows how to use it. You should send a few instructor teams over to 'teach' us how to use these weapons."

"Is something urgent? Then you go ahead, I'm not in a hurry here."

"..."

"What? Those two are in trouble? What kind of trouble? I don't know either. I can't control Milton's affairs at all. I heard that they were fine during the examination, except Madison had a few scratches on his hands, which he scratched himself."

Arsu listened to the phone call with a bewildered expression, but the more he listened, the more silent he became, and the more astonished he looked.

The entire presidential office was filled with an inexplicable sense of gloom.

"...What do you mean, those two CIA agents have gone mad?"

(End of this chapter)