Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1029 Interrogation
18 hours later.

Langley, Virginia, deep within CIA headquarters.

The air was filled with the smell of disinfectant mixed with some kind of invisible pressure.

The specially designed interrogation room was bone-chillingly cold, with a stark white light pouring down from the ceiling, leaving no shadows and illuminating Terry, who was sitting in the central metal chair, so that he had nowhere to hide.

His eyes were sunken, his hair was disheveled, and his shirt was wrinkled and clung to his body; he had long lost the dignity of the deputy head of the Kuwait intelligence station.

"I don't!"

Terry's hoarse, cracked voice echoed through the walls with desperate rage, "I swear to God, I have never leaked a single piece of information about the Marlin! Not a single word! It's top secret! I understand discipline!"

Director Vincent stood before him, shadows covering most of his face, only the taut lines of his jaw revealing his extreme coldness.

Hanks, standing next to him, was expressionless, like a cold stone statue.

"discipline?"

Vincent's voice was deep and imposing: "Terry, look at this."

Hanks showed Terry a document with shockingly clear bank statements.

"Offshore account, under Terry Walters' name—"

Hanks' voice was flat, yet sharp as a scalpel.

"Two days ago, in the early morning, a huge sum of one million US dollars was transferred in. Within two hours, the money was broken into twenty smaller amounts and transferred out to different ghost accounts, disappearing completely."

He paused, then emphasized, "Every transfer requires mandatory biometric verification—fingerprint and facial recognition. The system records show that it was you who made the transaction."

"How can it be!"

Terry's mind went blank, as if struck by lightning. He stared intently at the document, his eyes bloodshot. "Impossible! Absolutely impossible! That night... that night I was at the club! I was drunk! Someone must have..."

"Someone?"

Vincent interrupted him, his voice icy, "Someone took your finger to get a fingerprint? Someone wore your face for identification? Terry, do you even believe that story? The money's in your pocket! Right at the most sensitive moment of our operation!"

"No! That's not how it is!"

Terry tried to stand up excitedly, the metal handcuffs clanging against the armrests of the chair.

His mind raced for a moment, and then a look of sudden realization dawned on his face.

"It's that woman! That damn 'Emily'... no... 'Natasha'! At the club! She kept getting me drunk... and then... and then I blacked out! I woke up in a hotel bed with a splitting headache! It must be her! She used some kind of trick! Drugged me! Yes! It must be drugged me! She tricked me into revealing information and messed with my phone and biometrics!"

He stammered, sweat rolling down his forehead, "Chief! Hanks! You have to investigate! Investigate that woman! She's the key! Also, a businessman named Aziz invited me that night... He's definitely involved too!"

Vincent's eyes were as sharp as a hawk's, capturing every subtle expression and body language of Terry.

Fear, confusion, anger at being manipulated...

These emotions are intense and genuine, not feigned.

A sliver of doubt began to grow in Vincent's mind—perhaps, Terry really was just a pawn that was carefully used and then ruthlessly discarded?

But that account, that money, is an undeniable fact, enough to convict him.

Moreover, the raging anger in the White House and on Capitol Hill needs a substantial explanation to temporarily quell the unrest.

Just as Director Vincent was considering how to use Terry as leverage to explain things to the White House, Hanks spoke up.

"Drugs?"

His voice carried undisguised sarcasm.

"A seasoned intelligence officer, during a sensitive mission, got drunk to the point of unconsciousness in a shady club, and was tricked into revealing top secrets by a woman of unknown origin? Terry, did your professional ethics and loyalty go down the drain with that drink?"

His voice suddenly rose, filled with professional coldness, "Your story is full of holes! The account records are irrefutable evidence! You are the mole! You betrayed the country for dirty dollars!"

"I'm not!"

Tristan roared hysterically, his body trembling violently with agitation, the handcuffs rattling, "I didn't! You've been misled! Someone's framing me!"

Hanks turned to Vincent, his tone firm: "Chief, his resistance is futile. He's lying and trying to mislead us. I strongly recommend using truth serum, along with standard polygraph procedures, and some interrogation techniques to assist him. The truth must be uncovered immediately! We have no time to waste!"

His eyes were sharp, carrying an unwavering determination.

This leak has humiliated the entire counterintelligence department, and he needs a clear outcome to salvage the situation. Vincent remained silent for a few seconds.

Terry's explanation carried a sense of desperate desperation, unlike anything he could fake.

But Hanks's insistence was not without merit; the accounts provided irrefutable evidence, and Terry's dereliction of duty and drunkenness were undeniable facts. Under immense pressure, he needed a breakthrough, even if that breakthrough might not be entirely accurate.

He nodded slowly, his voice low and weary: "Follow the procedure. Hanks, you supervise personally."

"understand!"

A cold, resolute glint flashed in Hanks' eyes.

“No! Oh! For God’s sake! Chief…Hacks…you can’t do this to me…I’m loyal to the department…”

Terry trembled all over.

He knew exactly what Vincent meant by "following procedures."

However, Vincent was not convinced by his wailing.

Two burly agents came over, unlocked his handcuffs, and removed the restraints around his waist. Then, they lifted him up like a scarecrow and dragged him out of the interrogation room and into another room.

Soon, a ghostly wail came from the next room.

The next few hours were like hell for Terry.

The forced physiological reaction caused by the truth serum made him suffer terribly. His clothes were soaked with sweat, and his consciousness struggled between confusion and clarity. He was forced to repeat the fragmented memories of that night and his pale and powerless excuses over and over again.

The lie detector's electrodes were pressed tightly against his skin, and cold lines danced on the screen, recording his every heartbeat, every breath, and every subtle physiological fluctuation.

In the end, the agents even subjected him to waterboarding.

Vincent stared intently at the monitor screen the entire time.

When the final analysis report was delivered to him, his brow furrowed deeply.

"The lie detector results..."

Hanks' voice held a barely perceptible hesitation, "...His physiological response on key issues...did not reach the typical deception threshold. Combined with his statements under the truth serum...they are highly consistent. The technical conclusion leans towards...that he did not actively or deliberately leak core intelligence."

"Tend to?"

Vincent's voice was devoid of emotion.

“Yes.” Hanks’ expression was somewhat stiff, clearly dissatisfied with the result. “But technical methods are not 100% foolproof, and besides, Terry has received counter-interrogation training and knows how to counter lie detectors. The possibility that he was drunk and negligent, or was drugged to extract information… cannot be ruled out. Moreover, he cannot explain the account issues; serious negligence is a fact!”

Vincent leaned back in his chair, rubbing his throbbing temples.

This result confirmed part of his intuition that Terry might indeed have been designed.

But this only made the situation more complicated.

Is Terry, this "scapegoat," enough to deter the bloodthirsty sharks in Congress and the White House?

He needs time, time to track down the mysterious "Emily" and the mastermind behind it all.

He waved his hand wearily: "Take him away and keep him under strict guard. This report... is temporarily classified as top secret."

To the outside world... it was stated that Terry Walters had been formally detained and is under full investigation for serious violations of security regulations and suspected leaks of classified information.

"Yes, Director."

Hanks stood at attention. Although he had some reservations about the outcome, the director's orders had to be carried out.

As Terry was dragged out of the interrogation room by two expressionless guards, mumbling incoherently, "Innocent...that woman...", a figure in the shadows of the corridor let out a barely audible sigh of relief.

Deputy Director Simon pushed up his gold-rimmed blue light blocking glasses. His gaze behind the lenses was calm and unwavering, with only a fleeting hint of relaxation in its deepest recesses.

He straightened his crisp suit cuffs and walked steadily toward his office.

The crisis has temporarily bypassed him.

He needed to contact Lebia immediately to deliver this "good news" to his "old friend." It was clear that Terry's mishap was orchestrated by that "old friend"...

　Asking for a monthly ticket!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)