George Smiley exerted force to pull out the paper docunts, but still half of them were burnt. "What does it say in here?"
The Spaniards kept silent.
The leader was a Four Eyes. In fact, the original boss here had been Marsellino, but after witnessing Victor’s "parade," he resigned on the spot.
Fuck!
"I quit. Low pay, too much work, stupid teammates, bastard bosses," he even planned to defect to Victor.
Once he left, Four Eyes temporarily took over as the boss.
He was unyielding, silent in the face of George Smiley’s questioning. Smiley punched and shattered his glasses. The lenses instantly fractured, piercing into his eyes, and he scread in pain.
"I’m talking to you! You think it’s just wind in your ears! Fucking son of a bitch! You want to die, don’t you? I’ll make your life a living hell!"
George Smiley, known for his temper, grabbed his head and pressed his face directly into the still-burning basin.
Sizzling~
Just like roasting at.
"Ahh! Ahh!!" Four Eyes cried out, struggling desperately, his claws gripping Smiley’s clothes tightly, but eventually, the strength in his grip waned.
The subordinates from departnt 13 swallowed hard.
The boss truly lived up to his nickna: Death tal!
The level of violence was cranked to the max.
George Smiley stood up, stepping on Four Eyes’ head, "Who wants to die, who wants to live."
He grabbed a woman by the collar, her white flesh inside plain to see, but he had no mood to look, his eyes ferocious.
"Tell , what does it say in here, or else... I’ll throw you into a den of horny dogs!"
The woman’s breathing halted, trembling in fear.
This group was no good, not even the courage to commit suicide.
The woman was so scared, her tears were about to fall.
George Smiley decisively shot her in the forehead, then turned to the next person, "No bullshit! Tell ! Fucking hell!"
"It’s... it’s the xican military officer we were working with."
"Thank you!"
Bang!
George Smiley fired another shot. He really wanted to kill the rest, but this bunch still had their uses, so he aid to extract the helpful information first.
Then…
Just wait for death.
anwhile, Jas Ryan, along with the police, cordoned off the Spanish consulate in Tijuana.
Their guns were trained on the entrance.
"Anyone who cos out, shoot to kill!"
The Spaniards were stunned!
"What are these people up to?! Call and protest, appeal to the President of xico Cuauhtémoc, it’s a provocation against Spain," shouted the white-haired diplomat from his office, in a fit of rage.
"Sir... perhaps, Detrius has failed," said a Military Officer standing in front of him, his expression not looking too good either.
They were of course aware of the plan to "overthrow Victor."
Aren’t embassies and consulates there to aid their own intelligence agencies?
Ending the rule of the dictator at ho, the righteous middle-aged King Juan Carlos I wanted to achieve sothing significant. He had eradicated Francisco Franco’s old forces at ho, and even faced with an ard coup in 1981, he remained composed, resolved without ard conflict.
Abroad, he wanted to restore Spain’s imperial glory.
Brother, even United Kingdom next door has beco a fucking ss.
The thing people lack the most is self-awareness.
Spain also thought about controlling Africa remotely through its two enclaves on the continent, let alone xico with its better geographical location, they wanted to increase their say.
Suddenly he rembered a line.
"Money, you can make it, but power, it’s not for you to handle."
Hearing the Military Officer’s words, the diplomat’s expression turned ugly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his face turned pale in an instant, "You say, what will Victor do to us? Will he kill us all, or…"
The Military Officer looked at him with disdain, frowned, and said, "I don’t know." He narrowed his eyes, "But I think, if he’s a rational person, he won’t cause a diplomatic dispute, at most just an expulsion."
"So what if it’s not normal..."
Great... we have to die, huh!
"Please rember, you are a Spanish diplomat, sir, you represent our face..."
Thump... tat tat tat...!!
Before the Military Officer could finish speaking, gunshots were heard. He instinctively lay flat on the ground, his eyes betraying a flash of panic, while the diplomat, sir, was already sitting on the ground, having fallen off the chair.
The two of them looked at the window in terror; it was shattered, leaving bullet holes in the wall.
The expressions on their faces turned as uncomfortable as if they had eaten shit.
Shit!
Shots fired!
The xicans really fired!
We’re going to die, going to die.
"Quick! I’ll call Cuauhtémoc, you contact ho. Damn it, madn, they’re all madn!" the Military Officer shouted loudly.
...
"Sir, I object to your anti-drug speech!"
Victor looked at the fat man before him, smiled, and nodded, "Everyone has the right to express his opinion."
"You are depriving them of their freedom to choose, you are inciting violence, you are not helping the local people in Tijuana to make decisions, but forcing them to beco your slaves!"
"Don’t you know that growing cash crops has beco the main source of inco for the common people? Or do you just not care."
The fat man rambled on, but it was all nonsensical.
And there were quite a few people around who thought it made sense.
Just as Victor was about to argue with him, Jason Bourne ran up and whispered in his ear, "Director, there’s been an ard rebellion in Tijuana, but Kennedy and his n suppressed it. The instigators behind it have been arrested; it was the Spanish intelligence service."
He was startled by the first part.
Fuck... am I going to be exiled?
But when he heard the second part, he imdiately felt relieved. He furrowed his brows tightly, and this scene was just witnessed by the Mayor of New York and others. He glanced at a man beside him, who looked like his bodyguard but was actually with the CIA, there to keep an eye on him.
Sothing definitely happened just now.
"Mr. Victor, hey, show so respect." The fat man waved his hand in front of the other, didn’t he see Jason Bourne was talking to him?
No manners at all!
Victor looked up at him.
"Legalizing drugs is the way to go for xico, and you can completely let go of the ard forces. The United States will help you, and also, I think you owe so people an apology, your actions have hurt their lives."
What kind of bull is he spouting?
"Apologize? To whom?" Victor fixed his gaze on him and asked.
"Er, like the Benjamin brothers from Tijuana, they’re just ordinary businessn… they... OMG! Damn it, what are you doing!" Before the fat man could finish, Victor grabbed a bottle of red wine beside him and threw it, splashing the man with it.
He charged up, landed a beautiful uppercut on his chin, making the man’s body stiffen, and then he fell heavily to the ground. Victor got on top of him and punched his face repeatedly.
"Apologize?! Go fuck yourself! I’ll make you talk nonsense!"
"Quick! Pull him off." The Mayor of New York shouted from the side. Tom Cruise and Spielberg rushed to restrain him.
And there, the real estate queen of New York, Leona Helmsley, was staring at his emanating hormones.
Her eyes sparkled.
After a couple more solid punches, he stood up, looked at everyone present, pulled at his clothes, and with a smile that carried malice, said, "Those present here know , should know . The mont drugs are ntioned, I beco very unhappy, and moreover... I like using violence. I’m superstitious.
If anyone speaks well of drug traffickers, they might have many accidents, hang themselves, or get struck by lightning. Of course, you can say it was ."
"I admit to these cris."
"I’m not saying this to intimidate you but to tell you that my words truly have power."
Victor swept his gaze over them and lastly fixed it on the man on the ground, "Who’s this guy?"
"Chris Farley!"
"What a disgusting na."
He spat a mouthful of thick phlegm onto the fat man’s face.
I didn’t kill you because I didn’t bring my gun.
Well...
No ashtrays either.
...
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