In the private room, Paris's voice was filled with conviction, not a hint of wavering.
This shameless attitude, Guderich thought, forcing himself to merely curse "Bastard," under his breath. The skin of these CIA guys is truly thick.
Although Guderich knew the other party was lying, he had no way to deal with him. As long as the CIA insisted they had also just learned about the matter, Mossad couldn't demand the CIA provide more detailed intelligence. Investigating on their own, their power in Tokyo was naturally no match for the CIA, and they might even face obstruction. This was CIA territory.
"That's true," Guderich said, shifting the topic. "Let's talk about Mohammed. We absolutely can't let him meet with Dio; that man is a complete madman." He stated the pretext for the meeting: to jointly deal with Mohammed, the Nomura Shimba of Yemen.
Paris didn't want to leave either. He reseated himself, his expression solemn. "There have been too many arrivals in Tokyo recently; we can't find Mohammed's whereabouts for now. The last clue about his whereabouts was three days ago in the Nippori neighborhood of Arakawa District."
"Who did he meet with in Nippori?" Guderich asked.
"It's unclear. Tokyo's waters are deep, and we can't be aware of everything." Paris's face wore an expression that suggested they had done their best.
Guderich knew in his heart that it wasn't so much that they couldn't find out, but rather that the CIA simply hadn't invested effort in that direction. They had allocated more time and energy to Dio and blocking information related to him.
"I hope to get news of him as soon as possible," Guderich pressed. "Otherwise, Mossad might have to stay in Tokyo for quite a long time."
"Rest assured, we will assist you with the case to eliminate the evil terrorists!" Paris answered solemnly.
The CIA didn't want Mossad to stay in Tokyo too long.
Guderich smiled. "Good. This is related to the operational funds—please do accept it." Two checks were handed over.
Paris took a glance.
Guderich continued with a smile, "The one below should be considered your service fee. We really need to rely on your hard work for this matter."
Paris took the checks. The larger amount was for the CIA, while the smaller one for him meant there was no need to split it with others. "I will definitely find Mohammed's whereabouts as soon as possible."
"Here's to our pleasant cooperation." Guderich raised his glass. As long as the other party was willing to take the money, things would be easier to handle. Today was about Mohammed; tomorrow would be about Dio. Higher-ups were more concerned about the intelligence on Dio than Mohammed. Despite the countries' relationship being as close as father and son, the intelligence on Dio was a secret not casually shared even between father and son.
Paris raised his glass and gently clinked it.
...
BANG!
A violent sound drowned out the clinking of the two glasses as the door of the private room was ripped from its hinges, tumbled through the air, and slammed onto Guderich's head, caving in a portion of it. Blood immediately gushed out along the fractures. He crumpled to the ground with the door.
Paris reacted quickly, attempting to draw his gun, but his arm suddenly numbed. A sharp throwing knife had sunk into his arm; the wound quickly turned a dark, purplish color. The knife was poisoned. The numb nerves prevented him from grasping the gun.
"Mohammed!" he roared in a low voice, looking at the man outside, his face full of shock and anger.
The man at the door had distinct facial features, a crew cut, no beard, and his dark eyes were filled with indifference. His hands were stained with blood. The guards outside had clearly been dealt with by him.
"Tell me the intelligence on Dio," Mohammed said in English, striding into the room.
Paris shouted, "Don't underestimate the people of the CIA!" As he spoke, he kicked over the hefty coffee table in front of him and quickly crouched, trying to use the overturned table as a shield against throwing knives and seize the chance to draw his gun with his left hand to counterattack.
His idea was sound, but he underestimated Mohammed's speed. As he reached for his gun, a foot came down on the back of his hand. Crushing force instantly bore down.
"Ah!" Paris cried out as his left hand was crushed flat, bones splintering into fragments.
Mohammed bent down slightly and, with his right thumb and forefinger, grasped Paris's lower incisor, then yanked hard upward. The entire incisor was brutally pulled out.
"Ah!" Excruciating pain made Paris feel as if his head would explode.
Mohammed was indifferent. He was experienced in dealing with CIA agents; over the years, he had interrogated and killed at least thirty of them.
"Answer my question," Mohammed said, his voice and expression like those of a statue forged from steel, utterly cold. "Or I'll pluck out your teeth one by one, peel off your fingernails piece by piece, then slice open your belly with a knife so you can taste your own intestines."
"I don't know! All I know is that Dio is a Superpower User!"
"That didn't need your confirmation." Mohammed pulled out another of Paris's teeth. He wasn't an isolated savage; of course, he had seen those videos on TikTok. Videos of terminally ill patients recovering and a multitude of fake special-effects miracles made Mohammed realize this was another CIA trick; they intended to cover up the truth. This included the CIA's prior actions—all attempts to obtain this power.
"Special... Special Intelligence Investigation Department! The CIA's department that investigates Dio, that's it!" Seeing Mohammed about to pull out a third tooth, Paris yelled out what he knew. "I really don't know anything else! Please spare me!"
"No."
Mohammed punched Paris's head, causing it to burst. He then lifted his foot and stomped heavily on Guderich, who was pinned under the door. A large amount of blood gushed out, like an overturned can of tomatoes.
He made sure both men were dead before he turned and walked out.
A tall woman wearing a veil stood there. "Do we have any specific clues?"
"He wasn't from that department. We need to find someone from the Special Intelligence Investigation Department to understand the situation." Mohammed shook his head and added to his companion, "Dio is a Superpower User. The miracles that happened yesterday and today were probably caused by him. The CIA wants to get that power."
"A Superpower User... Does he really exist?"
"We must contact Dio before the CIA does. If we can take control of that formidable power, we can confront the United States." Mohammed's eyes blazed with intense fire. His beliefs were among the most extreme in Yemen. In his view, all the chaos in the world was caused by Heretics, with the United States as a prime example. Merely eliminating a puppet was useless if the evil top-level order wasn't burned down. The Holy City of Jerusalem would never return to their embrace. He had to find Dio and obtain the power that could change the world.
「Shinjuku, Central Building.」
Jack gazed out the window, furrowing his brows slightly at the unusually calm Tokyo evening. The task force hadn't received any reports about Dio's appearance, and there were no related messages from the CIA. The silence was eerily unsettling. Jack didn't like this kind of quiet; he preferred knowing who Dio was killing and what he was doing. A Dio doing nothing like this made Jack even more worried. Doing nothing meant Dio could do anything. So oppressive.
He loosened his collar with his right hand, turned, and opened a drawer, intending to reward himself with a glass of brandy to ease his tension.
RING! The telephone suddenly rang.
Jack quickly answered, "Hello, Director. What can I do for you?"
"Paris is dead."
John's first words left Jack somewhat stupefied. There were so many people in the CIA; he didn't even recognize who Paris was. But he didn't ask, continuing to listen to the Director's account.
"Before he died, he was negotiating with Mossad's Guderich about Mohammed. From the scene, it looks like Mohammed found their meeting place and went there to kill them both. Paris's three front teeth were pulled out. Knowing him, he definitely revealed the Special Intelligence Investigation Department before he died. You need to be careful from now on."
After listening to John's description, Jack thought for a moment and said, "Director, should we take care of him?"
"I've already arranged for someone to take care of him. Just make sure you're safe," John replied.
Jack quickly nodded. "Please rest assured."
After hanging up, Jack called the agents outside into his office.
An agent entered the office. "Minister Jack, do you have any orders?"
"Who is Mohammed?" Jack had been too embarrassed to ask John, fearing the Director might have mentioned Mohammed to him before.
After pondering, the agent responded, "A famous lunatic from Yemen. He says he'll burn all the Heretics in the world with fire, especially Americans."
"A real lunatic," Jack commented, then asked, "Is he powerful?"
"Mohammed once single-handedly ambushed the firepower-enhanced company sent by the Sea Union to Yemen and annihilated them. He has also repeatedly turned our traps into opportunities to kill our men. He's known as Nomura Shimba."
Hearing about Mohammed's glorious achievements made Jack nervous. The Special Intelligence Investigation Department in the Central Building didn't even have as many people as a company. Although John had assured him that someone else would deal with Mohammed, Jack didn't trust the CIA agents at all. What if those guys envied his position and deliberately let him get killed? Jack was keenly aware that, lacking background or connections, he had reached his current position mostly through luck. Plenty of people in the CIA envied his job.
He thought for a bit, then waved to dismiss the agent and picked up his phone to call the task force.
"Any news on Dio?" Immediately upon connection, Emily's excited voice came through, eager for action.
Jack shook his head. "No, it's not about Dio. It's about someone named Mohammed. I need you to take him out."
"What did he do?" Emily asked curiously.
Jack said in a grave tone, "He wants to kill me to get information on Dio. The Director said someone would handle him, but I'm afraid someone who covets my position might deliberately let me die."
"OK, leave it to me."
Emily decided she would take out Mohammed. She didn't want to lose such a good partner as Jack.