Blackstone Code

After hearing what the executive director said, Lynch did not express his position directly. He thought seriously for a while and said, "I need to think about it."

"Of course, of course, Mr. Lynch, such an important matter must require multiple considerations." He took out a business card from his pocket, stood up respectfully, bent over, and held it in one hand. He held the hem of the clothes in one hand and handed it over.

"This is my business card. No matter what you have in mind, you can call me at any time."

Lynch took the business card. On it was a person's name, position, and several phone calls. It also marked the time period and which phone calls could be reached. It was very detailed, including weekends and private time.

The federal people's desire for freedom is like a man's desire for a woman... This description may not be accurate, but it is not too different.

Therefore, the vast majority of federal people refuse to talk about anything related to work outside of working hours.

No matter what it is, they will quickly become bored, annoyed, and even lose their temper.

But this guy didn't mind doing it.

Lynch put down his business card. This was also a very distinctive feature. The supervisor in front of him was probably facing a change and a choice.

Stepping forward, he will become a member of the upper class.

Stepping forward, he is still the high-income middle class.

"I've written it down, do you have anything else?" Lynch put the business card on the table and looked at the head of the executive department.

The latter quickly stood up and said, "There's nothing else to do. I'm sorry to bother you at this time, so... I think I should go."

Lynch put his hands on the armrests of the chair and straightened up. He stretched out his hand and shook hands with the director of the execution department, "Good night, sir... you know how to leave."

"Good night, Mr. Lynch."

After watching the supervisor leave, Lynch looked at the business card in his hand, shook his head, opened the drawer and put it in instead of taking it with him.

It's not like he has done nothing in the past three days. He has been paying attention to the exchange between Sanchez and Mr. President.

I have to say that the identity of Special Advisor to the Security Council is very useful. As the son of a warlord, Sanchez is an important young man who may inherit the position of warlord in the future. As soon as he enters the country, people from the Security Council, Homeland Security Bureau, and Military Intelligence will keep an eye on him. Fucked him.

On the one hand, this kind of tracking is indirect protection, and on the other hand, it prevents them from doing bad things.

These people are unscrupulously destroying the social order in their own country, and each of them is a very dangerous person.

If it weren't for the relationship between the Federation and Marillo, which was pretty... good, and if there were some changes in the policies and attitudes of the President and the Department of International Affairs towards Marillo, Sanchez might not even have a chance to enter the Federation.

Now that he has come in, in order to avoid the harm he causes to this society, it is reasonable to keep an eye on him.

Today is the third day, and he has not yet dealt with his uncle, the president, which makes Lynch feel that he is not as strong as he is in the conference room.

At least his abilities don't match his strength.

If Mr. President can continue to hold on for a while, then Lynch will have other ideas.

If he doesn't last long and transfers his shares to his nephew, Sanchez, then there's nothing left to think about.

Even in this matter, it is not easy for Lynch to interfere now. After all, this is the other party's "household matter."

Just when Lynch was guessing how long the president could last, the president was suffering a terrible punishment.

Sanchez was wearing a black shirt, with his sleeves rolled up high, revealing a layer of dense body hair on his exposed arms.

In addition, there are various wounds.

His body is not fat at all, it can be said to be very standard. Fat people cannot survive for long in Marillo.

When assassins attack, running slowly means not being qualified to continue living, so Sanchez is in great shape.

He was slightly sweaty. The CEO sitting in front of him had his clothes stripped off, and his white and tender body was covered with scars.

Using the word fair and tender to describe a middle-aged and elderly man... is indeed a bit excessive, but this is the most true reflection.

Living in a favorable environment in the Federation and enjoying the most advanced medical technology and technological inventions, he has aged far less than his peers.

He looked like he might be in his forties, maybe a little younger.

But now, this "good body" is covered with wounds.

Some are still bleeding, some are no longer bleeding.

Knife cuts, burns, puncture wounds, and even electrical injuries.

Two wires were connected between the CEO's legs, one red and one green, which looked a bit scary.

"As long as you sign, I will convince the general and I will not take you back to Marillo." Sanchez was still trying his best to persuade, but no matter how he persuaded, his uncle refused to sign.

Federal signatures have always been an anti-counterfeiting measure. Where do you start writing, where does the highest point of a certain stroke reach, and finally falls in front of or behind a certain line.

These are all anti-counterfeiting methods, and only they themselves and the institution that has the original signature know it.

Otherwise, with so many checks being issued every year without any precise anti-counterfeiting measures, banks would have gone bankrupt long ago, and major companies would have been hollowed out by people.

It is precisely because of these humble defense methods that they form the basis of the federal financial and economic prosperity.

No country has ever used various checks on such a large scale as the Federation. Although problems often occur, these problems are within acceptable limits.

If Mr. President does not sign, the equity in his hand will not be transferred to Sanchez, and the anonymous companies holding shares on his behalf will not transfer the equity to Sanchez. Sanchez will have no status at all in the company.

He still remembered the contempt and questioning he had received from Lynch and others three days ago. The anger at that time was still affecting his emotions now.

The CEO, who had been tortured for two days, raised his head and looked at Sanchez, his mouth opening and closing slightly, as if he was saying something.

Sanchez leaned over. This was the first time in the past two days that the president had actively expressed his desire, but then he felt some hot and wet fluid on one cheek, and the sliding liquid flowed down his cheek. .

Blood mixed with saliva, so damn disgusting.

Sanchez walked to the electric switch, looked at his uncle indifferently, and then pushed the switch knife.

The moment the power was turned on, Mr. President trembled all over. After the federal government passed the Electricity Safety Act in the early years, in order to avoid casualties caused by incorrect use of electrical appliances and power supplies, the indoor voltage was within a safe range.

Electricity was definitely a revolution, but it did bring a lot of tragedies at that time. Some people were electrocuted due to incorrect use or just out of curiosity, which made the federal society taste the pain that must be endured in the development process.

Fortunately, these problems are now solved.

After more than ten seconds of turning on the motor, Sanchez pushed the knife open, and the tense CEO suddenly sat loosely on the chair.

Where his arms were bound with wires, some of the wires were already embedded in his flesh.

There is a slight burnt smell, which is the smell of hair, and there is also a stinky smell.

Sanchez's assistant held a water pipe and flushed Mr. President. In fact, he was much better now.

The first time he was electrocuted, he became incontinent and pooped everywhere.

Now he has been hungry for two days without eating. In addition to urinary incontinence, he will no longer have liquids or solids.

The cold water seemed to revive the CEO's energy, and he chuckled.

The laughter was low, filled with a sense of ridicule, and Sanchez's face turned dark.

In fact, both Mr. President and Sanchez knew that they were betting.

Mr. President bet that Sanchez and his brother would not dare to kill him if they could not get the equity. Once they did, they would completely lose every moment.

And Sanchez was also betting that his good uncle would not be able to withstand all kinds of torture and would eventually sign his name on the power of attorney.

But from now on, his uncle seems to have a better chance of winning.

What he didn't expect even more was that this good-for-nothing uncle could actually resist until now.

After the water stains had almost dissipated, Sanchez walked up to the president and looked down at him, "Do you think there is only so much pain?"

"No, there is still a lot of pain, more than you can imagine. This is just the beginning!"

As he spoke, he walked to the trolley nearby, put on surgical gloves on himself, and then took out a scalpel and a piece of cotton thread.

He walked back to the president, "Have you decided whether to continue to resist or sign the document?"

The CEO spit out another mouthful of bloody smear, his voice was very hoarse and weak, "It hurts so damn much, but compared to death, the pain is acceptable."

"Either let me go, or... kill me, you have no choice!"

Mr. President's unexpected strength made Sanchez feel embarrassed.

He raised his hand and put it on the top of his good uncle's head, and pushed hard. The chair fell backwards, and Mr. CEO leaned his back on the ground, facing upward.

His legs also spread naturally.

Sanchez squatted down, deftly removed a wire clamp, tightened it with cotton thread, and slashed with the knife...

It didn't hurt at all at first, maybe because the electric current had paralyzed the nerves, but after about twenty or thirty seconds, a falling pain began to tear apart the CEO's will.

This pain is not only a physical reaction, but also a psychological reaction!

He knew that there was actually nothing, but in his feeling, it seemed as if there was a chain tightly fixed on his lower body, dragging him towards hell.

Pain, despair, anger!

The room was filled with feeble roars and shouts.