Ultimate Firepower
Chapter 539 - 518: Something to Talk About

Chapter 539: Chapter 518: Something to Talk About

Alexander’s mindset wasn’t in the best place.

The concept of gains and losses perfectly encapsulated Alexander’s current situation. Effortlessly, he had garnered several accolades, pulling out a few thorns embedded in Russia’s side, but he had also betrayed two moles painstakingly developed by Russia.

At least he sold out the traitors on the other side, which made Alexander feel just slightly better.

But only slightly, not much more.

Yet, he had no choice but to sell them out.

The feeling was irritating, suffocating, and the root of it all lay with this captured Prince.

In the makeshift interrogation room, Prince lay sprawled on the floor, while Alexander glared at him, seething with rage, wishing he could kill him outright.

Grabbing the beaten and sprawling Prince off the ground, Alexander yelled sharply, "Speak! How can you prove Alekayev is one of your people? What evidence do you have?"

Prince’s mouth was smeared with blood.

Alexander’s reaction was too abnormal—anyone from the inner circle could easily see it, perhaps even guess the reason behind it without much effort.

"Evidence? You just need to grab him and ask. He’ll tell you everything. Why bother asking for evidence?"

Prince realized he was in deep trouble—not that he might not survive, but that survival was simply impossible.

Alexander gestured to one of his subordinates, then clenched his fists and said, "Soon. Do you know how to write interrogation records?"

"Boss, can I... write while interrogating?"

The interrogation hadn’t officially started yet, but the records had already begun to be written.

The reason was simple: Alexander didn’t plan to extract any genuine confession from Prince. All he wanted was an interrogation record he could accept.

Alexander exhaled deeply and said, "Fine, you can write as you interrogate. Other details aren’t important—focus on figuring out how he knew Alekayev is a mole. I suspect he’s trying to mislead us. Interrogate him thoroughly."

Prince muttered to the side in a low voice, "You’re in cahoots with them! Damn it! When did you start colluding with them? You—you can’t treat me like this. I’m very valuable. How do you plan to explain it to your superiors if you kill me?"

Explain to his superiors?

Alexander indeed needed to think about how to align his narrative with Plevenov.

"Heh heh..."

Alexander let out a sinister and ambiguous laugh, then said to his subordinate, "Beat him, torture him, and finally use truth serum on him. Remember, use an overdose."

The subordinate clenched his lips tightly.

Alexander approached his subordinate, calm but with an inevitable hint of menacing chill, and said, "This guy must die—or, he can become a vegetable. The reason? You ’miscalculated’ the dose. Can you do it?"

Alexander wanted his subordinate to take the fault.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the subordinate replied quietly, "Understood, boss. I’ll handle it."

Alexander patted the subordinate’s shoulder and murmured, "It’s a mistake, but not a fatal one. Within three years, I guarantee you’ll be a regional director."

"Boss, don’t worry. I’m skilled at interrogations. My only weakness is handling chemical tools like truth serum. I only recall the safe dose being 200 milligrams!"

Alexander patted his shoulder again and said, "Get to work."

There were two people in the room: one for interrogation and one for record-keeping.

Alexander bore leadership responsibility, but he had pressing matters outside. Naturally, the primary interrogator, who would commit a rookie mistake, would shoulder most of the blame.

Alexander stepped out of the makeshift interrogation room, lit a cigarette, and listened to the screams starting to echo from the room behind him.

The insulation was decent; the screams wouldn’t travel far. Standing at the door, however, he could distinctly hear them.

By standard procedures, they would interrogate Prince for a few days before resorting to truth serum if he didn’t comply. However, in exceptional situations, they could expedite the process—using truth serum on the day of capture wasn’t strictly against the rules.

Alexander decided just one Alekayev was enough; he couldn’t afford more moles, as he couldn’t provide sufficient exchanges.

These years had been tough for the KGB. With only a handful of moles, if they all got traded away, Alexander’s future operations would be untenable.

If argued to align with Russia’s interests, it would be nonsensical.

The timing was suspicious—grabbing someone here just as they nabbed someone there. The stench of quid pro quo was overwhelming.

The screams abruptly stopped. The time was short since Prince’s beating was merely punitive—not meant to extract useful information.

Useful confessions required patience and meticulous questioning—repeated interrogations matched against corroborations.

In situations like this, it was guaranteed the truth serum would be deployed—and though the resulting confessions were fragmented and often babbling, obtaining one or two names or leads would suffice.

About an hour later, his subordinate pushed the door open and found Alexander still waiting outside.

"Boss, bad news. I gave too much of the truth serum. The captive spilled some leads, but he’s become a vegetable."

Even without anyone else present, even in this playacting scene, some theatrics were necessary.

Alexander stormed into the interrogation room in mock fury.

Prince slumped in the chair, drooling excessively while reeking of urine and feces. The entire interrogation room was nauseatingly foul. His pupils were dilated naturally—not due to shock—a textbook reaction to an overdose of truth serum.

That was it. A vegetable now—even an immortal couldn’t save him.

Alexander didn’t bother with any more lines. Rather, he immediately seized the record book from the clerk.

He skimmed over the front—it was all fabricated by Alexander anyway—then focused on the section detailing the interrogation under truth serum.

"What did you ask?"

"Just how he knew Alekayev’s name—nothing else. At first, the subject still showed resistance, but very soon began answering unconsciously. We cross-referenced three times, but by the third round, he could no longer verbalize coherent words."

An overdose of truth serum wouldn’t permit prolonged interrogation time.

From the disjointed confessions, Alexander began extracting the answers he sought. He noted down over a dozen names and memorized those highlighted with underlines, then tore out the specific pages from the record book.

Closing the book, he said quietly, "All the confessions were obtained after truth serum application."

"Yes."

"Transcribe it again, recording the exact times accurately. As for the video record... hand it over."

The subordinate pulled the SD card from the digital camera. Alexander pocketed the card and said, "Call me in half an hour to report on the situation. I’m leaving now."

Alexander departed the interrogation room, walked some distance, and then called Gao Yi.

"The interrogation results are out; the situation is complex—there are too many names. Can you take note?"

Gao Yi had been waiting for updates; hearing Alexander’s words, he murmured, "Just a second—I’m grabbing a pen... Alright, go on."

Alexander rattled off twelve names in one breath, then added in a low tone, "I used truth serum on Prince; he’s now a vegetable. These names are absolutely credible, but I couldn’t make him reveal specific intelligence routes. However... judging from the confessions I obtained..."

Among the twelve names, the most frequently mentioned were Panetta, Joelson, and Mason.

Alexander continued, "Prince is part of a faction opposing Panetta, but he’s merely a minor player. The name he mentioned most frequently is James Jackson. He directly reports to this James Jackson, and it’s from James Jackson that he obtained Alekayev’s name."

"Understood. Thanks. Let’s leave it at that."

After hanging up, Gao Yi immediately called Panetta.

"I’ve got a list. Your name and Joelson’s appear most frequently. Prince obtained the intelligence from someone named James Jackson, and they seem to have formed a group opposing you."

Panetta muttered a curse under his breath, then replied, "James Jackson! So it’s James Jackson—damn it..."

Gao Yi didn’t know who these people were, but he knew Alexander had unintentionally uncovered a plot against Panetta, identifying a well-hidden adversary.

"Prince is now a vegetable. Is this confession still valuable?"

"Valuable—extremely valuable. I’d never downplay the significance of this intelligence. Relay my gratitude to our Russian friends. For this, I’ll coordinate with their progress in targeting American moles, ensuring suspicion doesn’t fall on them."

The value of Alexander surged in Panetta’s eyes. For this, Panetta was willing to cooperate with Alexander—a classic favor returned.

"Alright. Anything else?"

Panetta paused momentarily, then finally murmured, "My situation is fairly complicated. If James Jackson is plotting against me, I could be in trouble. If it’s convenient for you, come to the United States—we’ll talk in person."

It seemed Panetta needed help from Gao Yi, possibly requiring him to flex his professional skills.

Gao Yi couldn’t refuse; he murmured, "Alright. I’ll head to the United States as soon as I can. By the way, one more thing I need to mention quickly. Um... the Pentagon mole—could my friend take it on to handle?"

The CIA enjoyed targeting the Pentagon, making it look bad.

But it usually just caused embarrassment for the Pentagon; even exposing a mole there wouldn’t yield hefty rewards.

However, Grasse was different—Grasse belonged to the Ministry of Defense’s Secret Intelligence Bureau.

If this credit went to Grasse, the reward would be substantial.

Panetta paused briefly, then replied softly, "This can be discussed—as long as your friend understands the rules."