Chapter 916 Dandan’s sadness
"Wake up!" After several consecutive slaps, Mark Ocha was awakened from his coma.
He opened his eyes blearily and found himself in a basement, with his hands and feet tied to a chair with wires.
"Hey! Look at me! Look at me! You have to concentrate!" Brian slapped the guy a few more times, and his face immediately swelled up visibly.
Then Brian took a steel nail as long as a knitting needle in each hand and stabbed it into Mark Ocha's thigh in front of Mark Ocha's horrified eyes.
"what!!!"
Amidst the shrill wails, Mark Ocha's entire body began to tremble violently, in excruciating pain.
"You'd better go and guard outside." Seeing the reluctance on his son's face, Frank tilted his head towards the outside, indicating that Cassell could go out first.
The great writer shook his head stubbornly, "I'm fine. Isn't Jack here too?"
"Do you have any misunderstanding about our FBI?" Jack grinned at the guy.
After driving Cassel out of the basement, he continued to watch the CIA interrogation program. At this time, Brian had clamped the two electric clamps connected to the car battery on the left and right, respectively, onto the long steel nails.
This Mark Ocha was quite tough. After a while of groaning, he stopped shouting and just stared at Brian with eyes full of hatred.
Brian pulled out a picture of two girls and held it in front of him, "Where are these two girls?"
"Bah!" Mark Ocha spat in Brian's face.
Brian didn't dodge, but just took out a handkerchief to wipe it, walked to the power box with a grin, and reached out to turn on the switch.
"Ah! Ah! Ah!!!" Along with Mark Ocha's screams, the smell of burnt protein instantly filled the entire basement.
That's it? Jack felt that this kind of electric shock was even worse than pulling out the nails and dripping hydrochloric acid.
As he expected, when Brian returned to Mark Ocha to ask another question, he was greeted with spit again.
"This kind of electric shock that you CIA uses doesn't seem very scientific." Jack said coldly from the side.
Before Brian could say anything, Frank, who was also watching the "fun", responded first, "Why? Do you FBI have any more scientific methods?"
"I don't know if the FBI has it." Jack smiled, "But as a man and a half-forensic doctor, I know that some special parts can cause unparalleled pain to people."
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"No, stop it, you pervert, stop it, don't do this to me, please, don't do this to me!!!"
Mark Ocha, who had just refused to surrender, felt his scrotum being clamped tightly by two small clips. His whole body began to tremble violently. This time it was not because of the pain, but simply because of a fear that came from the depths of his masculinity.
"Don't be impatient. Normal people have two. If one gets burnt, we'll switch sides." Jack wiped his hands with a wet tissue in disgust, and without waiting for this guy to say anything, he turned off the power.
"After Pavarotti passed away, I never heard a tenor as good as him." When the power was turned off again, Frank said with heartfelt emotion.
"Pavarotti is only one of the three great tenors in the world. In fact, this sound should be closer to the pharyngeal sound of a castrato, right?"
Jack also ignored Mark Ocha's inhumane roar and teased him heartlessly.
"I resold them. Volkov told me I could do with them as I pleased, as long as no one found them. Virgins like that could be sold for a lot of money, so I sold them as quickly as possible. I beg you, please stop torturing me."
Mark Ocha gasped with difficulty. The steel wires that bound him were deeply embedded in his flesh because of his desperate struggle just now. However, the severe pain from his "sorrowful place" far exceeded the pain from other parts of his body. Even though Jack had turned off the power, his whole body was still twitching.
"Where did you sell them? Who did you sell them to?" When Brian heard this guy finally speak, he grabbed his collar and asked harshly.
"St. Clare, Patricia St. Clare, Patricia St. Clare." Seeing that Mark Ocha's consciousness was already blurred, Brian took out a syringe from the medicine box beside him and inserted it into his vein.
Under the stimulation of the drugs, the originally failing myocardium once again exerted its remaining strength and tried to pump fresh blood into the arteries. Mark Ocha's eyes suddenly widened.
"Where should I find him? Tell me!" Brian continued to ask.
"Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!" Mark Ocha gasped for breath. His originally stylishly combed slicked back hair was completely wet with sweat, turning back into the curly hair common among Eastern European men.
"I don't know, I swear I really don't know."
He turned to look at Jack who had already put his hand on the switch, his eyes full of pleading, "I don't know. I don't know! Please, don't! I really don't know! Please! Have mercy on me, kill me, anything is fine, just let me go!"
"Please, please!"
Seeing him crying so hard, Jack put down his hand on the switch and said, "OK, I believe you."
"Huh" Mark Ocha let out a long sigh of relief, and his head drooped down.
"I'll leave this to you." Brian, who got the name, left the basement impatiently. Frank touched his bald head and turned to leave, "I'll make a few calls too."
Jack was about to take out the "Viper", but suddenly he seemed to have thought of something and asked abruptly, "Do you remember how many girls begged you like you did just now?"
"What?" Mark Ocha raised his head suddenly, only to see Jack's hand on the switch again.
"No!!! Aa ...
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It turns out that testicular pain can really be fatal. Jack recalled some strange stories he had read on the Internet in his previous life. He never expected that he would be able to experience it himself in this life.
It is really troublesome to work with two old guys from the CIA. They have no idea of how to clean up the mess at all. It is just like in the movies, they just plan to leave a mess behind and walk away.
Jack didn't know whether there was an organization similar to the scavengers in France. Even if there was, he didn't know who they were. He could only continue his miserable work of destroying the bodies.
The body was buried in the forest, and all the clothes and other things were burned. When Jack and Cassel returned to Frank's safe house No. 2, the identity of Patrice St. Clair had been preliminarily ascertained.
After Jack put together the information Frank and Brian had collected through their respective connections, he asked Justin to take a look at the French criminal database, and a character similar to Epstein became clearly visible.
