Capítulo 1475: Chapter 695: He’s Just a Dog I Keep

They pushed open the heavy wooden doors; inside the church, candlelight flickered. It was vast and silent, with the statue of the Virgin Mary gazing compassionately down.

“Police! Is anyone there?” Esposito shouted, his hand on the gun holster at his waist.

Suddenly, intense gunfire erupted from the shadows of the confessional and the back chapel!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Bullets came raining down like a storm!

This was no inspection; it was an ambush!

The roar of submachine guns and carbines echoed under the church’s dome, deafening, while saint statues were shattered by bullets, and splinters flew from the pews.

Esposito and his men hadn’t even fully drawn their guns before they were enveloped in the crossfire.

Bullets tore through their bulletproof vests, piercing their bodies, blood blooming in the dim light.

A young officer tried to find cover but had his skull blown open by a bullet.

The massacre ended within seconds.

Five officers lay in a pool of blood, their blood staining the stone floor before the altar, blending with the candlelight, creating a sinister and desecrated scene.

The gunfire ceased, leaving smoke and fumes lingering.

From the back of the church, several men in black suits, typical Italian Mafia bosses, emerged, inspecting the bodies with rifles, looking ruthless and decisive.

At this moment, another group strolled out from the deeper shadows.

Leading them were several men of Asian descent.

They wore trench coats or suits, their calm demeanor a stark contrast to the bloody scene.

One of them had a cigarette in his mouth, carefully avoiding the spreading pool of blood on the floor.

An Italian-looking leader turned around and spoke in Italian: “Mr. Chen, the police are becoming more troublesome.”

The Asian man referred to as “Mr. Chen” slowly exhaled a smoke ring, his gaze sweeping over the corpses on the floor, then replied in accented but fluent Italian:

“Troubles, just clean them up. Who can stop us from making money?”

He paused and added, “The next batch, Extraterrestrial Object will increase by thirty percent for you.”

The Italian leader’s eyes flashed with greed and excitement, nodding.

Mr. Chen no longer glanced at the corpses, stubbed out the cigarette, and signaled to his companions. The group exited through the church’s side door.

…

Intelligence from Europe, like snowflakes, gathered in Victor’s hands at Chapultepec Castle in Mexico City.

Jeff Bennett, the director of the Mexico Counterintelligence Bureau, stood before Victor, his face heavy with concern.

He held a thick dossier in his hands.

“Sir, the situation is worse than we thought.”

Bennett’s voice was somewhat hoarse, “The spread of Extraterrestrial Object is too fast, and the ensuing scramble is out of control; Europe has suffered greatly.”

He flipped open the dossier, turning pages:

“France Marseille, two members of the national police intervention unit (GIPN), encountered modified armor-piercing rifles at a presumed warehouse dock assault, bulletproof vests were penetrated, killed on the spot. The opponents were heavily armed, tactically skilled, more like a small army than a gang.”

“Frankfurt, Germany, three detectives were killed when their vehicle was destroyed by a remote bomb while tracking a suspected distributor; no one survived.”

“Liverpool, England, a senior anti-narcotics detective was executed at his doorstep, shot twice in the head. His wife and daughter were missing, later found dismembered and mailed to Liverpool Police Headquarters three days later!”

“Amsterdam, Netherlands, two undercover officers’ identities were exposed, their bodies found in the canal, hands and feet bound, with marks of torture. The forensic doctor stated they had been injected with massive amounts of drugs, dying in extreme ecstasy and pain.”

Bennett closed the dossier, took a deep breath: “We’ve used all resources in Europe, but this ‘Second Brother’ is too well-hidden. No photos, fingerprints, or reliable eyewitness descriptions; like a ghost. What’s certain is that Xie Zhile’s ‘Third Brother Group’ and Ye Zhenli’s ‘Three Leaves’ serve as secondary framework cores, handling funds, channels, and connections with local gangs.”

He looked up, “Below this network, it radiates through Europe’s traditional and emerging gangs, from Italy’s Camorra, Glory Society to Russia’s Skinhead Party, Ireland’s Republican Army remnants, even some far-right militia organizations. According to the most conservative estimates, directly or indirectly serving, relying on its supply network, could involve millions of people. It’s not just a drug cartel; Boss, it’s becoming a shadow kingdom.”

“More troublesome than any drug cartel we’ve encountered before!”

Victor stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to Bennett and Casare.

The atmosphere in the room was suffocatingly oppressive.

At that moment, the red encrypted phone on the desk rang shrill and loud.

Casare glanced at Victor’s back, seeing no reaction, and stepped over to answer: “Hello?”

He listened for a few seconds, covering the mouthpiece, turning to Victor: “Boss, it’s Ethan. He says it’s extremely important and he needs to speak with you directly.”

Victor turned abruptly, a sharp light in his eyes.

He strode over, almost snatching the phone from Casare.

“Hello, this is Victor.”

Ethan Hunt’s voice came from the other end, just as crisp and clear, the background exceptionally quiet, “Sir, to keep it short, I paid a great price to intercept and decode a very brief internal communication.”

He paused, speaking each word distinctly: “That ‘Second Brother’ is a Chinese man. No photos, no specific name, just a surname.”

“What surname?” Victor quickly asked.

On the other end, Ethan Hunt clearly stated one word:

“Liu!”

…