Chapter 1,303 Doubts

At dawn, an uninvited guest came to the inaccessible alley.

Agent Davis walked into the alley with his right hand hidden in the pocket of his vest. He tightly held the M9 with the safety on and searched the alley with his eyes vigilantly.

Just a few days ago, Agent Braddock, who was tracking Abel Torres in Colombia, disappeared from his apartment.

After receiving the order from the CIA headquarters, Davis immediately ended the case at hand and rushed to Colombia from nearby Brazil. Following the clues of the drug lord Abel Torres, he came to the crime capital of Bogotá.

According to intelligence from informants 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 something big happening recently, the drug lord is planning to exchange all the stocks in his inventory directly for arms.

Davis didn't know what the "big thing" Torres mentioned was about to happen in Colombia, just like he didn't know the whereabouts of his colleagues, but that was exactly why he was here. The CIA's top management attached great importance to this matter. Not only did they give him the highest level of operational authority, they even promised him that a team of "seals" could be mobilized when necessary.

Now, all clues point here.

From the mouth of a homeless man, he spent $10 and learned that Abel Torres had appeared in this alley in the early hours of yesterday morning. Also appearing in the alley was a blond girl, only about twelve or thirteen years old.

Well aware of the drug lord's special hobbies, Davis mourned for two seconds of silence for the girl who was probably already in danger, and continued walking down the alley.

There was a faint smell of blood in the air, which made him frown slightly.

Soon, he discovered some unusual places from several details on the ground.

"hair?"

Squatting on the ground, Davis took out his gloves and put them on, then used tweezers to pick up a brown hair from the ground.

He took out the flashlight with his other hand and put the hair under the flashlight. He quickly discovered the problem.

"Brown, matching the color of Torres' hair. The cut was neat. It didn't look like it was torn off during a fight, but like it was cut off directly by some kind of sharp instrument. Blood stains? Whose could it be?"

The conditions here obviously make DNA identification impossible.

Davis took out a small plastic bag about the width of his index finger from his pocket.

Use tweezers to hold the hair and carefully put it in.

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 had been looking for.

"The blond hair...no, it should be very conspicuous. Did Torres not encounter any resistance when he was violent? But this cannot explain the bloody hair...and the fibers left by the textiles."

While analyzing in a low voice to himself, Davis searched deeper into the alley.

Just as he passed a row of trash cans, his steps suddenly stopped.

Frowning slightly, he looked at the row of trash cans.

In the disgusting rancid smell, he could vaguely smell a trace of blood that was stronger than before.

Walking forward, Davis reached out and pressed the lid of the trash can.

The moment he opened it, the smell hit his face, causing him to subconsciously move his head back.

Looking at the scrap newspapers in the trash can, he reached out and fiddled with them casually.

Just after he put his hand into the scrap newspaper, he immediately felt something wet sticking to his hand.

Slightly startled, he suddenly opened the newspaper in the trash can.

When he saw clearly what was buried under the newspaper, his face suddenly turned pale, and a wave of heat surged up and down in his stomach, almost reaching his Adam's apple.

Arms, organs, even eyeballs... all the parts are neatly arranged in the bloody bucket, making perfect use of every inch of space.

However, it is this almost cold neatness that makes this blood even more cruel and cold. Even though he was used to seeing corpses and blood, he couldn't help but feel the trembling and fear that penetrated his bones at the scene in front of him.

What kind of person can be so cruel...

"God... Shet..."

Mumbling incoherently, he put on plastic gloves and mechanically pulled out the head. Turning it over to the front, his index finger slid down the bridge of its nose and stopped at its lower jaw.

"Abel Torres...can't be wrong."

Taking two steps back, Davis muttered blankly, pulled off the plastic gloves and threw them into the bag he carried with him.

"This is the flag bearer..." After pressing the button on his collar, Davis suppressed the feeling of vomiting in his heart and said in a difficult tone, "The trace of Abel Torres has been locked."

"Where!?" Baird grabbed the communicator in the CIA headquarters special operations command room and said hurriedly.

"In a certain alley outside the airport," a pale Davis glanced at the pile of indescribable things, "walk fifteen meters inward and turn left, inside the second trash can..."

Baird was stunned and thought he heard wrongly.

"The second...trash can?"

"Yes," Davis swallowed hard, "a total of three people were killed, or brutally dismembered, and stuffed into trash cans. One of them was Torres, and the other was his henchman with a very different name. Sir, he is a South American native."

"You mean, Abel Torres... was killed?" Baird said in disbelief.

Taking a deep breath, Davis spoke slowly.

"Is such that."

Although CIA has always wanted to get rid of this guy quickly, she definitely doesn't want him to die here like this. There was still a lot of information on him that could be mined, but his death in such an unknown manner completely disrupted their work.

"What about Agent Braddock..." 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 Abel Torres' murderer! He might know something. "

"yes……"

After hanging up the communication, the bitter smile on Davis's face became even worse.

The thread breaks here.

Who on earth executed Abel Torres in such a cruel way? Is it simply a crime, or is it to bury some shocking secret?

Also, where is Agent Braddock now? Did he discover something before disappearing?

For some reason, Davis suddenly felt a chill in his back.

From the rotten stench mixed with the smell of blood, he could faintly smell a hint of conspiracy.

His instincts were always spot on.

And now, his intuition is telling him that what he saw is just the tip of the iceberg of conspiracy...