In the early hours, the town of Monte Verde was awakened by the roar of engines.
More than thirty military and police vehicles appeared on the streets inside and outside the town, causing the residents to be alard.
Monte Verde is a small town with a population of less than two thousand, with only a few streets. Hundreds of fully ard military and police officers quickly got out of their vehicles, sealing off the town completely.
Monica stood in front of a mobile command vehicle, staring into the dark night, with a few wrinkles on her forehead.
Mills and Stock, like two loyal guards, followed Monica, trying to flatter this Departnt of Holand Security woman.
Especially Mills, who still had bruises on his face, yet showed exceptional diligence, even a bit servile.
He leaned towards Monica, "Madam, you have nothing to worry about. That guy nad Victor is nothing remarkable.
I know everyone around him, only about a dozen people, all poor xicans who can’t stir up much trouble."
He paused and added, "There are just over two hundred xicans in the town, and I know them well. If you need to catch anyone, I can lead the way."
Unlike Mills’ eagerness, Stock kept a grim face and cautiously said, "Miss Monica, we might have co too late.
It’s been at least two or three hours since the suspect last appeared. That ti is enough for the target to drive a hundred kiloters away."
Monica seed unconcerned with their words, focusing entirely on the Juan and the heavy truck Mills ntioned.
The heavy truck was a critical cover-up used by Zhou Qingfeng, now abandoned outside the town, empty and forsaken.
Old Juan posed a thorny issue—an illegal xican immigrant, with a secretive whereabouts, difficult to trace.
But catching the old man would lead to his deportation, completely cutting off Zhou Qingfeng’s biggest aid.
"Without anyone around him, catching that kid would be easy."
-----------------
But... finding Old Juan was much easier than imagined.
This senior, over fifty, did not hide as expected but swaggered into the Monte Verde police station with a few subordinates, voluntarily reporting the case.
Upon hearing the news, Monica imdiately headed to the police station.
As soon as she walked in, she saw a few dark-skinned, rough-handed xican n at the front desk, calmly submitting their docunts to the duty officer, describing their stolen truck.
Old Juan stood at the front, his deanor calm and distinguished.
Mills followed Monica, and when he saw this scene, his eyes widened, especially when Old Juan and others took out their driver’s licenses, causing him to exclaim:
"You... have citizenship? How is this possible!"
Old Juan turned back, glancing coldly at Mills with disdain and disgust. He replied indifferently, "What? We can’t be Arican citizens?"
"No, no, that’s absolutely impossible!" Mills shouted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, yelling in the police station,
"Fake, these must be fake! They’re illegal immigrants without green cards, no money, no assets, no skills, how could they get citizenship?
These docunts must be forged!"
Monte Verde is a small town with a pitifully small police station, usually only three or four officers on duty, even quieter at night.
If Monica hadn’t suddenly brought in a large force, the sheriff wouldn’t have reluctantly co in for overti.
Hearing Mills’ commotion, the sheriff registering the theft impatiently raised his head, replying coldly, "I’ve checked the docunts, these gentlen legally acquired citizenship a month ago."
This statent hit Mills like a heavy hamr, leaving him stunned, his expression turning from shock to confusion, and finally into an inexplicable dismay.
He had gone to great lengths, even resorting to deceitful ans to marry a white girl to barely obtain US citizenship.
He always considered himself a ’city person,’ looking down on his fellow xican immigrants as ’country bumpkins.’ But tonight, this sense of superiority was completely shattered.
Monica, however, had no interest in Mills’ emotional turmoil. She didn’t care whether Old Juan had citizenship or what his status was.
Her goal was clear: to control Old Juan and extract information about Zhou Qingfeng from him.
She stepped forward, coldly demanding, "Mr. Juan, we need your cooperation for an investigation."
Old Juan had already anticipated this and calmly pointed to a man in a suit beside him, "Of course I’m willing to cooperate with the police, but my lawyer must be present."
"Lawyer?!" Mills exclaid in disbelief again, "You have a lawyer? Where did you get the money for a lawyer?"
Old Juan spent his life working diligently, enduring the greasy chanic job for decades, never imagining he’d ever succeed.
Now in his old age, Holy Mother Mary seed to open her eyes, finally rewarding this unfortunate old man.
Old Juan didn’t speak but slowly raised his wrist, with a "IWC" watch worth tens of thousands of US dollars gleaming in the light.
Mills’ gaze was firmly attracted to the watch, his eyes widening as if blinded by it. He stared for a while before stuttering:
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