As Norris looked down at Powers, who lay limp on the ground, a rush of thoughts flooded his mind.
This man had been kidnapped and brought here through covert channels!
It all made sense now: Sean had hurriedly wrapped up affairs that day and flown everyone back to Newark overnight. That was to establish an alibi for Powers when he vanished.
Once the front foot sold the company to Sean, the back foot vanished. If the police investigated, Sean would undoubtedly be their prime suspect. Fortunately, he and the others had been on a plane at the time, making it impossible for him to have committed the crime. With such a solid alibi, any suspicion would be meaningless.
It was essential to ensure there was no evidence left behind!
Bowers was bound to die here, and the Los Angeles police wouldn't have the resources to search the East Coast for someone who didn't exist. After all, Sean would ensure that no complete body remained.
Moreover, there were the call recordings and financial records found at his home. Sean tossed another small bag onto the table and grinned: "Now that the person is gone, and the evidence is gone, you'll be completely safe, right?"
"Yes, no more trouble," Norris forced a smile, though he suspected Sean hadn't brought Powers here merely to eliminate a problem. It was also a subtle warning for him to refrain from any reckless actions that could lead to his own downfall.
It was a disappearance rather than a death—much less messy. A corpse would complicate things, and Sean was not one to invite trouble.
"I'm giving you a chance for revenge!" Sean signaled to one of his men, who promptly handed Norris a gun.
Norris instinctively recoiled, his face pale as he waved his hands in protest.
Seeing Norris's terrified state, Sean sneered, "It's pointless to give you a chance!"
Norris could only manage a dry laugh in response.
"Take this man for interrogation," Sean commanded, rolling up his sleeves. "He must have a wealth of information we need."
As he prepared for the interrogation, Sean added, "I'll show you how it's done. I know how to use a belt for whipping—people can be so messed up!" He walked ahead, leaving Norris shivering at the mere mention of the word.
Execution, after all, was about breaking the will of the opponent. There were two primary methods: physical and psychological torment. Sean preferred electrocution; it was clean, efficient, and left no blood behind.
In low-voltage electrocution, the victim's body forms the current loop, with the voltage kept below 200V. Electrodes are often connected to sensitive areas, causing intense pain. The required equipment is minimal: just a battery, a current regulator, and a few wires—simple, fast, and effective. Sean had even studied the CIA's Electrocution Manual, which detailed usage, effects, and variations of this method.
As alternating current flowed through the body, it could induce muscle spasms, escalating from mild discomfort to severe pain. Research indicated that high voltage with low current could deliver intense shocks without significant bodily harm, making it suitable for punishment. By adjusting parameters like intensity and frequency, the effects could vary, causing the victim to vomit or become incontinent.
"I'll let you all witness this firsthand!" Sean said as his men dragged Bowers to the lower deck of the yacht.
The battery, current regulator, wires, and restraints were all set. Bowers, though gagged, writhed in panic as he realized what was about to happen.
"Are you going to reveal your secrets voluntarily, or should I give you a little encouragement?" Sean taunted, squatting in front of the bound Bowers.
Bowers struggled desperately, muffled protests escaping through the gag.
"Silence is good," Sean remarked. "You've got a strong spirit. I hope you can hold onto that for a while longer!" He reached out and patted Bowers' face.
Norris wanted to shout, "What can he say with a gag in his mouth?"
"Remember, the current must be well-controlled. He'll only feel excitement and pleasure at about 1 mA," Sean instructed Bill.
Bill looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. Some thrill-seekers enjoy this kind of thing, placing a device on their chest for excitement…" Sean glanced at Norris. "You must have seen this in Hollywood, right?"
Everyone turned to Norris, who nodded slowly, his eyes wide. Yes, he had witnessed something like that.
"Damn!" someone exclaimed in shock, though the details were lost on them.
"Pain only kicks in above 5 mA, but you don't want to exceed 15 mA—it becomes dangerous and could be fatal beyond 30 mA, leading to respiratory arrest. Alright, you all experiment with that. I'm stepping out," Sean declared, rising to leave.
Norris knew the theory well, but he wasn't eager to watch the gruesome scene unfold. After all, Sean wasn't a monster—at least, not in the traditional sense.
Once outside, Sean enjoyed the fresh sea breeze, gazing out at the endless ocean. Meanwhile, Bill emerged from below deck, dragging Powers, now reduced to a lifeless mass, behind him.
"Boss, here are the secrets he confessed to," Bill said, handing Sean a notebook.
Casually flipping through it, Sean tossed the notebook to Norris. "Take a look. This might help with future operations. Just remember to consult with the three managers when you get back. Don't let this guy fool you."
"Understood," Norris replied, nodding. "But what do we do with him?"
"Throw him into the sea. He came from nature, let him return to it. It's environmentally friendly," Sean said. After a moment's thought, he added, "Tie iron weights to his legs, make a few cuts on his body to ensure he washes ashore. The police will have to deal with it then—it's a waste of resources and a burden on taxpayers."
Bill gave a thumbs up, impressed by Sean's professionalism. He took charge of disposing of the body, while Sean beckoned Norris to join him.
Norris felt an unsettling chill at the sight of Sean's smile.
"Now, tell me about those drug dealers in New Mexico who wanted you to launder money. They sent me over a million dollars, right?"
Norris's eyes widened in shock. "That money… it's mine!"
Sean glanced at the ocean with faux indifference. "Well, what you claim is yours, is yours."
With a resigned sigh, Norris continued, "So how do you guys operate? Do you just inflate the ticket prices for movies to hundreds or thousands of dollars, then hire ghost soldiers to watch them to fake the box office?"
Norris stared at Sean, bewildered. "You can't come up with that method without thirty years of brain damage!"
Sean chuckled, relishing the absurdity of the situation. "Believe it or not, it's a common tactic in the industry. People are often blinded by greed and fail to see the bigger picture. It's all about manipulating the system."
Norris shook his head, still grappling with the moral implications. "And you're okay with this?"
"Business is business," Sean replied coolly. "In this world, you either adapt or get left behind. Just remember, loyalty is everything in our line of work. Betrayal has its consequences."
Norris nodded, understanding the unspoken threat.
As they prepared to leave the yacht, a sense of finality hung in the air. The ocean's waves lapped gently against the hull, a stark contrast to the dark deeds committed within. Norris couldn't shake the feeling that they were all in deeper than they could handle, but there was no turning back now.