Eh? Do you also want to try the iron fist of the humanoid girl?

Chapter 55 Breakthrough

Suddenly seeing the scene of cursing, Giles continued to keep a grim look on his face and pretended to frown, but in fact he was so happy that he was about to roll on the ground in his heart.

What he feared most was people who were indifferent to everything. Such people didn't care about life or death, their wives, parents, or even their offspring.

As long as they can achieve their goals, the price they pay is meaningful and valuable.

Usually, such people will give their crazy behavior a "holy" cloak to convince themselves that they are on the moral side.

This trial has lasted for half a year, from winter to the beginning of summer, and it is really painful.

As for conviction, it can be accomplished with the evidence they have now.

But Giles's department is called the "Counterintelligence Division", and his attitude, as well as that of the DOD and the Advanced Research Projects Agency, is very consistent: all the nails on this line must be pulled out by the roots.

Otherwise, if one person is arrested today, a new one will take his place tomorrow.

"This is a record of your granddaughter's birthday. Your son hopes that you can bless her and let her have a happy childhood."

Owen remained indifferent, but his expression was somewhat out of control.

His eyes opened and closed, his eyelids trying desperately to close, but due to the stimulation of caffeine, he had the illusion of being full of energy.

The irritability and the urge to rest drove him to say:

"You guys - maybe we simple-minded soldiers have never felt wrong - are just a bunch of villains with no bottom line."

It's a trick that works every time. The fatigue plus the torture of excitement, coupled with the mental shock, it's hard for anyone to withstand it.

The reason why some people don't fall for this is simple: they haven't found his weakness.

Ronald Irving's weaknesses are obvious.

After carefully reading Owen's file, Giles found his former colleagues and asked them about his affairs. He gradually learned that Owen was a traditional Southerner who attached great importance to family.

To be honest, physical torture is not good, it wastes time and it is hard to tell whether it is real or fake. In addition, torturing an old man who is almost 60 years old would be a lot of fun if his underlying diseases broke out.

Furthermore, because of his special status, many powerful people are paying attention to the progress of the case.

Although they both knew that the relationship was irreversible, they did not want the other to die in an undignified way.

Damn contemporaneity, Giles thought.

This will lead to complex relationships between officers who graduated from the same school and the same level. They are competitors to each other, but they also sympathize with each other because of the friendships they formed when they were young.

"Was it Margaret who approached you first?" he asked.

"Nonsense! The Human Resources Management Department is responsible for personnel allocation. You know this best."

Owen shrugged, trying to look relaxed. He was a little surprised by his own reaction, but he couldn't help it.

"I think you guys are useful. People like Elvis are just confused and foolish. They pay the price for what they have done."

The "Elvis" that General Irving mentioned was the head of the Human Resources Management Department, and Giles was of course very aware of this.

"You will suffer the consequences," he replied.

"You want to kill me, and I can't stop you. I've dealt with death many times.

Death has taken my men, and my best friends—and he has often tried to take my life.”

Owen suddenly grinned nervously and said:

"Look, Miss Death is right behind you, and her hands are so wonderful."

"?"

Delusional? Giles thought to himself, this is a sign of mental instability.

However, there was no doctor's reminder in the headphones, which meant that the conversation could continue.

"…Miss Death will win sooner or later. Whether you kill me or someone else kills me, I have forgotten what it means to be afraid of death."

"Tell me, what are you afraid of?"

"It's definitely not you." Owen didn't say it with a smile, but looked at Giles with a cold, contemptuous and provocative look.

"Every man has something he's afraid of," said Giles. "War?"

"Yes, of course I wasn't scared at the beginning. The first time the bullet hit the wall, I was really scared. But it was just that one time, and then I knew that the mud wall could block most rifle bullets.

People adapt to dangerous situations, and as an officer you're often too busy to think about what you should be afraid of.

You will worry about your subordinates and you will be afraid of fighting because others are relying on you and expecting you to make the best decisions in dangerous moments.

You will be afraid of pain, not death but pain."

At this point, Owen sighed deeply. He was surprised that so much had been said, but he had had enough of the torture from the Counterintelligence Department.

Sitting here and confronting such a despicable villain was almost like going to war, making his blood boil and extremely excited.

“I read that all the men were afraid to go to war, and what sustained them was their self-image.

They know not to let their fellows think they are cowards. People are afraid of danger, but they are more afraid of being called cowards.

They are afraid of losing their manhood, afraid of betraying their comrades..."

Giles said, observing that Owen nodded slightly unconsciously, being completely unaware of the subtle movement.

The effects of lack of sleep take effect at times like this.

He rested his left hand on his thigh and pressed the button under the edge of the table and continued:

"Ronald Owen, you betrayed your comrades. Don't you understand? Do you know that telling the enemy military secrets is a betrayal of your comrades who fought side by side with you?"

"That's more than you said—"

The door of the study quietly opened, and a young man wearing a helmet and a combat uniform covered in dust walked in. The other details were also perfectly coordinated.

When he walked in, he still had a strong smell of gunpowder, holding in his arms an M15A200 SOPMOD II rifle equipped with an SMR handguard, AN/PEQ-4 multi-function laser designator, WMX-1 flashlight and sand-colored RVG grip.

The combat uniform was not only tattered, but also had holes in the knees.

His face and hands were bandaged, and red, sticky liquid flowed down his cheeks, forming a noticeable mark on his grimy face.

This is the image of all the army soldiers in the war on terror. This is a character image carefully prepared by the Counterintelligence Department to be close to the soldiers in Owen's memory.

Even the faces and physiques of the actors were screened in order to make them closer to reality and make the extremely tired Owen feel as if his dead subordinates have come back to life.

Owen didn't hear him come in, but he turned immediately when he smelled the scent.

The sight of his eyes fixed him almost paralyzed.

“Norris…is it really you?”

Chapter 56 Fall

"Tell me, Owen," Giles began again, "how would your men react if they knew what you had done?"

The young man in front of him didn't say a word - he was actually a corporal orderly in the Counterintelligence Department.

The liquid that was dripped into his right eye irritated him so much that tears kept streaming down his face, but he tried his best to endure the intense stimulation, not daring to show any uncomfortable expression, and let the tears flow down his cheeks.

Owen didn't know that they had put drugs in his three meals - in this villa, the long-term poor sleep quality and high pressure had tortured him to the point of mental confusion, and he couldn't figure out what they were doing to him.

The effect of caffeine was the opposite of that of drunkenness, and the high-pressure environment combined with the instincts developed from his early wartime career kept his mind in a state of pre-battle tension.

His senses searched for input, his eyes watched what was happening around him - but all night long he saw nothing.

With no input, the brain starts to imagine things.

When the counterintelligence agent brought him to the study, he was in a state that was neither illusory nor real.

When he saw Giles, he sobered up a little.

But he was too tired.

This fatigue is not physical, but is caused more by limited freedom and continuous intensive conversations over several months.

The irregular and endless torture they subjected him to left him exhausted.

Due to frequent insomnia and physical and mental exhaustion, when the mind is in a trance, it seems as if I am in a dream world and I cannot distinguish between reality and illusion.

"Turn around, Edward Irving!"

Giles suddenly shouted:

"Look at me when I talk to you! I'm going to ask you another question: What do those who served under you think now?"

"Who?"

"Who? The soldiers you led, you old fool."

After that, Giles took out a stack of death notices and threw them heavily on the walnut table.

"But..." He turned around again, wanting to see the familiar face, but the person was gone. He murmured:

"...Norris? Where are you?"

"answer me!"

"..."

Giles took out a piece of paper and threw it in front of Owen:

"Norris Harrington was killed in combat on the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan in 2011 at the age of 22."

Seeing that Owen still didn't respond, Giles could only say:

"I looked up your profile and saw that you wrote more commendations for your own men than most commanders.

But people like Thomas, Herbert, and this Corporal Norris. All those people who died for you, what would they think now?"

"They'll understand."

Owen immediately fought back without showing any weakness, but he was now too angry to control himself.

"What would they understand? Tell me, what would they understand?"

“It’s people like you who kill them—not me, not the Arabic-speaking guerrillas, but assholes like you.”

"Your son too?"

"That's right! My two children, two strong and brave children, they want to inherit their father's business, but——"

"And your wife, too?"

"That's even more true."

Giles suddenly stood up, turned around, pushed the door and left, leaving the old bastard feeling lost at the sudden departure of the person he was communicating with.

The general in charge of supervision outside the house saw Giles coming out and urged him with a smile:

"Director Ingersoll, you've been working on this case for almost half a year. You should close the case as soon as possible. There's no need to waste more time on this person."

"Fuck you," Giles said, picking up the phone and telling the orderly on the other end, "Bring me my uniform."

"Keep your mouth shut. In terms of military rank, I am your superior."

"If you still have the self-awareness of your superior status, you wouldn't be here and causing trouble for the interrogation."

Giles never tolerated such a useless bastard and angrily said:

"The whereabouts of our people stationed in Frankfurt are currently unknown, and that is our army's top secret.

Three days ago, the area was attacked by an electromagnetic bomb.

The CIA experts checked the on-site inspection report and said that it was a weapon that we had only put into service three years ago... Don’t you think this is interesting?"

"I'm sorry, but I've never heard of any of our confidential personnel operating in the area."

The surveillance supervisor was not buying it. He only cared about whether Giles used "illegal" means to torture and extract a confession.

He also has a more important responsibility, which is to urge Giles to close the case as soon as possible. The FBI has already monitored the spies in the country, and as long as the case is closed here, everything will be fine.

At that time, those who deserve promotion will be promoted, and those who deserve salary increase will get salary increase.

This is a hot potato. If you always take it upon yourself, people will resent you. If something goes wrong, those people will be happy to take the lead.

He didn't care what Giles thought, he cared more about where his own ass would sit tomorrow.

Secret? If it was really a secret, it would never have gone to Germany.

In addition, DOD secrets are at risk of being leaked every day. Perhaps an employee or young officer will get carried away and release sensitive isolated information to his peers in Discord or Telegram groups.