Chapter 31: Show Your Talent
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They’ve arrived!
Milton didn’t show excessive excitement, nor was he completely indifferent; instead, he displayed a perfectly measured skepticism.
“Can this new drug really be this cheap?” Milton coughed twice forcefully, expressing strong doubt. “It’s not some counterfeit, is it?”
“This is pioglitazone, imported from the U.S.! You wouldn’t understand even if I told you. If it weren’t for the U.S. side… Tch, this kind of stuff isn’t meant for poor folks like you,” the shop owner said proudly. “Do you want it or not? Stop asking so many questions.”
Imagining getting their hands on advanced products from the world’s strongest country, selling them to “compatriots” as if handing out charity, the shop owner unconsciously straightened his back a little.
Pioglitazone...
Upon hearing the name, Milton didn’t need to ask further—this pharmacy must have a supply channel from the Green Vine Fund!
As long as Brandon and Luz weren’t fools, they would have already bailed out and be sprinting toward the pharmacy right now.
Honestly, if Milton himself were involved in smuggling banned drugs, he would have kept it strictly secret, selling only a small amount quietly, and if it didn’t sell, so be it. He definitely wouldn’t repackage and distribute it to others.
Since winning the Cold War, even American companies had become brazen beyond measure.
Seeing Milton silent, the owner assumed he was hesitating and resumed his sales pitch: “There aren’t many of these cheap drugs; once they’re gone, that’s it.”
He certainly wouldn’t reveal the grim fact that a pregnant woman had taken this drug and suffered a fatal myocardial infarction in the middle of the night, leaving two lives lost.
Just as he finished speaking, the pharmacy door suddenly swung open.
The shop owner immediately turned his head: “Welcome... huh?”
Two men, resembling Navy SEALs from a blockbuster movie, burst in from a blind spot, one after the other!
Brandon stepped forward, raising his rifle and aiming its muzzle at the shop owner; Luz turned around and flipped the “Open” sign to “Closed” while simultaneously pulling down the rolling shutter.
Bang!
The pharmacy was completely sealed off.
They were all veteran cops and prosecutors, very familiar with this procedure.
Before the shop owner could react to the sudden change, Milton suddenly drew his gun and shot the owner’s left hand, which had been hidden under the counter!
Click!
A .22lr bullet pierced his arm.
Clatter!
A short-barreled shotgun fell to the floor!
Then came the shop owner’s piercing scream: “Ah!!!”
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Milton swiftly leapt over the counter, kicked the shotgun aside, grabbed the owner’s neck, and squeezed hard, strangling his airway!
The pharmacy fell into sudden silence.
Milton pulled out the search warrant signed by Chief Warta, more symbolic than practical, slapped it onto the owner’s face, and coldly declared, “I now have sufficient evidence proving your involvement in an illegal drug smuggling case. You must cooperate with the investigation and have no right to remain silent. From this moment on, my authority over you is absolute.”
With that, Milton dragged the owner by the neck into the pharmacy’s restroom.
The move had been conspicuous; someone might have seen it… So from now on, Milton had to start a countdown—finish everything as quickly as possible!
All contingencies had to be planned for the worst-case scenario!
Inside the restroom, Milton shut the door and released the owner.
“Cough, cough...” The shop owner gasped for air, clutching at his throat. “Are you police or border patrol? I’ve already paid off both!”
He tried to assess the situation while attempting to intimidate these possibly official men with his connections—only someone official could afford such equipment.
Milton didn’t care whom he had bribed or what background he had, his voice icy: “You answer my questions. Understand?”
Brandon kicked the owner viciously and snarled, “The boss means that if you lie, he’ll kill a family member of yours. Got it?”
I didn’t say that, don’t mistranslate… Milton’s temple twitched slightly, but at this moment, he couldn’t undercut his subordinates, so he kept his tone cold and asked, “Do you have the original packaging for the pioglitazone?”
“Cough, cough... I sincerely advise you not to get involved in this!” The pharmacy owner refused to answer honestly. He clearly saw these men were trying to extract information without lethal intent.
The anomaly here would soon be discovered; if he could just stall until the police or someone else arrived, the crisis would be over!
Milton was indeed anxious but concealed it well, instead adopting a leisurely demeanour.
He must not reveal his hand too soon!
He said slowly, “Luz, bring a wet towel and a kettle. I need to make him cooperate.”
Luz immediately turned and fetched the items.
The owner’s heart sank; a bad premonition grew as he tried to struggle: “W-what are you going to do… Ugh!”
Milton signaled his teammates to hold down the owner, then pressed the folded wet towel tightly over his face!
He then grabbed the kettle and began pouring water onto the towel.
Water torture!
You won’t escape this!
Soon the owner, muffled under the towel, desperately tried to breathe, but every breath choked him with more water, intensifying the suffocation and pain in a vicious cycle!
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This was a dual assault on both body and mind, capable of shattering the will of most people swiftly.
Under the torment of suffocation and drowning sensations, the vast majority couldn’t last ten seconds!
The owner’s body quickly began convulsing spasmodically.
He was no specially trained agent with unwavering faith.
Even a sip of water would nearly kill him, and Milton timed the ordeal coldly on his digital watch for a full minute and a half!
The agony was unimaginable.
Milton poured water onto the towel with calm, unhurried strokes.
The owner writhed hopelessly on the floor, oxygen deprivation forcing him to instinctively breathe in, only to swallow more water that couldn’t escape his windpipe!
The creeping sensation of death was so intense it caused him to lose control of his bladder.
This was the near-death reflex!
However, Milton didn’t intend to let the owner die—he still needed information!
Judging the time sufficient, Milton removed the towel and signaled Brandon and Luz to release their grip.
His teammates exchanged a glance filled with inexplicable fear.
The boss was truly ruthless!
Once oxygen returned, the owner rolled in agony on the floor, coughing and vomiting, struggling for a full two minutes before his consciousness gradually returned.
By then, the mucus and water he coughed up were streaked with blood.
Milton crouched down, looking at him calmly: “Let’s continue.”
Brandon was itching to say, “Do you see how fierce the ‘Hell Tax Collector’ is?” but wary of a pay dock warning, he kept silent.
The owner coughed hard several times, propping himself up against the wall, barely able to sit, and weakly said, “Cough! You’re not afraid of those people I mentioned... Cough! I know who you are—‘Hell Tax Collector’ Milton, right?”
Hearing this nickname from a stranger felt like a hard blow to the back of Milton’s head.
He nearly stood up to give the owner another ‘lesson in artful torture’ to teach him the consequences of uttering that ugly nickname!
So it had truly spread, hadn’t it?!
But time was short. Milton forced his facial muscles into a high and mighty expression and said, “Looks like you know me. Good. I hope this will make our Q&A more... harmonious.”