I Have a Mansion in the Post-apocalyptic World Chapter 1303: Doubtful points
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The sky was bright, and the inaccessible alley welcomed an unexpected visitor.
Hiding his right hand in the pocket of the waistcoat, Agent Davies walked into the alley, clutching the M9 that had opened the insurance tightly, and searched with caution in the alley.
Just a few days ago, Agent Bradock, who was following Abel Torres in Colombia, disappeared in his apartment.
After receiving the order from the CIA headquarters, Davis immediately ended the case at hand, rushed from Brazil to Colombia, and followed the clue of the drug lord Abel Torres to the evil capital of Bogota.
According to the informant's intelligence and analysis of existing clues, Abel Torres met a Florida "dealer" at a bar near the airport last night. It is said that because of the recent major event, the drug lord is going to exchange all the stock in the stock directly for arms.
Davis did not know what the "big event" that Torres mentioned was about to happen in Colombia, just as he knew nothing about the whereabouts of his colleagues, but this is exactly what he appeared here. the reason. CIA executives attached great importance to this matter, not only granted him the highest level of authority to act, and even promised him that he could mobilize a "sea seal" when necessary.
Now, all clues point here.
From the mouth of a tramp, he spent $ 10 and learned that Abel Torres appeared in this alley in the early hours of yesterday. Also appearing in the alley was a blonde girl, only about 12 or 13 years old.
Deeply aware of this drug lord ’s special hobby, Davis observed two seconds of silence for the young girl, who was mostly fierce and fortunate.
A slight **** smell filled the air, causing his brows to wrinkle slightly.
Soon, he discovered unusual places from several details on the ground.
"Hair?"
Squatting on the ground, Davis took off his gloves and put them on, and used tweezers to pick up a brown hair from the ground.
The other hand took out the flashlight and put the hair under the flashlight, he quickly discovered the problem.
"Brown, consistent with Torres' hair color. The fracture is neat, not like it was cut off during the fight, but like it was cut directly by some sharp tool. Blood stains? Who will it be?"
The conditions here obviously cannot be used for DNA identification.
Davis took out a small plastic bag about the width of his index finger from his pocket, clamped the hair with tweezers, and put it in carefully.
After doing all this, he continued to search the ground.
However, to his surprise, he found many useful clues on the ground, but he did not find the one he was looking for.
"Blonde hair ... no, it should be very conspicuous. Does Torres not encounter any resistance during the violence? But this can't explain the **** hair ... and the fibers left by the textiles. "
As he whispered to himself, Davis searched deep into the alley.
As he passed a row of trash cans, his footsteps stopped suddenly.
Frowning slightly, his eyes turned to the row of trash cans.
In the disgusting rancid smell, he vaguely smelled a **** smell stronger than before.
Going forward, Davis reached out and pressed the lid of the trash can.
At the moment of opening, the smell came out, and he moved his head back subconsciously.
Looking at the waste newspaper in the trash can, he reached out and fiddled with it.
As soon as he reached into the waste newspaper, he felt something wet and stuck to his hand.
Slightly for a moment, he suddenly opened the newspaper in the trash can.
After seeing what was buried under the newspaper, his face turned pale, and a stream of heat was tumbling up and down the stomach band, almost rushing to his throat knot.
Arms, organs, and even eyeballs ... All the parts are neatly placed in **** buckets, perfecting every inch of space.
However, it is this kind of almost cold neatness that makes this **** more cruel and cruel. Even if he was accustomed to corpses and blood, he couldn't help feeling the trembling and fear of digging into the bone marrow for the scene before him.
What kind of person is it that he can play such a hard hand ...
"God ... Shet ..."
Incoherently, he put on plastic gloves and mechanically turned out the head. Turning it to the front, his index finger slipped down the bone of his nose and stopped at his jaw.
"Abel Torres ... not wrong."
Two steps back, Davis murmured blankly, ripped off the plastic gloves, and threw them away in the bag he was carrying.
"Here is the flag bearer ..." Pressing the button on the neckline, Davis resisted the vomiting in his heart and said in a difficult tone, "The trace of Abel Torres has been locked."
"Where !?" Baird grabbed the communicator and hurriedly hurriedly.
"In an alley outside the airport," Davis, who was pale, glanced at the pile of indescribable things, "Walk 15 meters inward and turn left, in the second trash can ..."
Beld froze, thinking he had heard it wrong.
"The second ... trash can?"
"Yes," Davis swallowed hard, "A total of three people were killed, or cruelly dismembered, and stuffed into the trash. One of them was Torres, and the other was his confidant. , With a long name, is a native of South America. "
"You mean, Abel Torres ... he was killed?" Baird said incredulously.
Take a deep breath, Davis said slowly.
"This is it."
Although the CIA has always wanted to get rid of this guy, he never wants him to die here. There is still a lot of information in him that can be dug up, and he died so unclearly, completely disrupting their work.
"What about Agent Bradock ..." Baird asked.
"I don't know," Davis smiled bitterly. "The only thing that is certain is that he is not in this trash can."
"Find the murderer who killed Abel Torres! He might know something."
"Yes ..."
Hang up the communication, and the bitter smile on Davis's face worsened.
The thread is disconnected here.
Who actually executed Abel Torres in such a cruel way? Is it simply to eat black, or to bury some earth-shattering secrets?
Also, where is Agent Braddock now? Did he find anything before he disappeared?
Don't know why, Davis suddenly felt a chill in his back.
From the rotten smell mixed with blood, he smelled a hint of conspiracy faintly.
His instincts are always accurate.
Now, his instinct is telling him that all he sees is the tip of the iceberg of conspiracy ...