Working as a police officer in Mexico

"Is this what you call a simple demand?"

Quintero's face stiffened.

An all-out war against drug traffickers would mean overturning the entire existing order in Mexico, after all, even an evil order is still an order, and it's certainly better than Haiti.

To a certain extent, the interests of the comprador and bureaucratic classes wouldn't change, and the drug traffickers had no intention of rebelling, they were just sucking blood from the common people.

"They control 90% of the national wealth," Quintero said in a low voice.

Victor knew who "they" were in his mouth.

When Calderon announced the drug war in 2006, on December 13th, he sent naval, land, and air forces, 19 planes, 38 helicopters, a maritime patrol fleet, 246 vehicles, 29 drug-sniffing dogs, and over 5000 soldiers to surround and suppress the Michoacán drug trafficking organizations.

Do you know how many were ultimately eradicated?

A total of 5023 plantations destroyed, 127 firearms confiscated, 120 drug traffickers arrested.

What the hell kind of results are these?

That's called a picnic!

Don't be fooled by the number of plantations, they're worthless. Drug trafficking organizations after the Millennium had long stopped getting rich by cultivation alone, they had shifted to trafficking new types of drugs like KKY, which offered higher profits for lower costs.

In other words, these operations were just a "face" thrown to Calderon by someone else.

Whether or not Calderon died of anger is unknown, but when he declared the drug war a failure, he said something profound, "The drug traffickers are being nourished very well in this land."

"Are you afraid?" Victor suddenly asked.

"Of course not!" Quintero quickly replied.

"Then you're still worried, without confidence?"

Now, the other side was silent.

"They control 90% of Mexico's wealth, and I control a police force of nearly 4000 men, and Baja California will establish a 15000-strong National Guard, I also have 6 armed helicopters, a maritime patrol boat, 17 armored cars, 117 artillery pieces of various calibers, and countless firearms!"

"I just want to ask!"

"How much US dollars can stop my 150mm artillery!" Victor's eyes were aggressive.

Warlord!

NTM, this is a warlord!

But when a gun is pointed at your head, there will always be applause: "Wow, what a badass feeling."

Shock was also written on Quintero's face.

4000 men in the police force?

With the kind of weapons and equipment he had seen on the streets, it wasn't an exaggeration to say that no army in Mexico could face him in direct combat.

Did Quintero not know what a sorry state the military was in?

Punching the clock in the army by day, being a drug trafficker by night.

It's all about working two jobs.

"Sir, I don't understand politics, but I've always believed, fist = right, what's mine should be fought for, don't worry, if anyone dares to snatch our food at the table, I'll smash their mouth," Victor spoke with a defiant tone.

"Your name should be hung in Mexican history just like your father's, your statues should stand forever in front of the Mexican Official Residence, your names are Mexico!" Victor's voice was laced with seduction.

Sitting beside, Alejandro: ????

You said the same thing to me back then! What a scumbag, giving the same line to two different people.

Quintero's heart thumped wildly.

What is life for?

Nothing but fame and fortune!

Although he was eager to agree immediately, Quintero, who had struggled for decades, understood one thing, "There is no love without reason, and no hate without cause."

"What else do you want?"

Victor almost responded with: "I want to command all the soldiers in the world."

Of course, that was absolutely impossible. What country would let a person who wasn't even 30 years old in a few months be in charge of the military and police?

You'd think this was Africa!

Unless he led a military coup, but look at Victor, with loyalty and love for his people written on his forehead, and heroic integrity etched on his chin, could such a man rebel?

He himself was the hero of drug prohibition, a pioneer of drug eradication, His Majesty Victor (delete that!)

Actually, the most important thing was, he needed a title. Right now you're high on drug prohibition, the Yankees won't do anything to you. The Yankees of the 90s were still very proud in their bones, they hadn't become almost indulgent towards drugs like after the Millennium.

You prohibit drugs, sometimes they're even eager to agree.

That's the American political system for you, two parties, what you agree on, I definitely disagree, what you disagree on, I definitely agree.

If there's a military coup...

Today they'd shout "Mexico is dead, Victor should stand," and tomorrow you'd be pinpointed for elimination.

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The Latin American region is but Uncle Sam's backyard; who do you think can just stand up like that?

Victor smiled, "I am doing it for the Mexican people, and of course, I have found that Mister Alejandro is unwaveringly standing with us on our common path. We should give him more responsibilities and power; he's very suitable for the role of Governor of Baja California."

You see, this is the art of speaking!

Upon hearing this, Alejandro straightened his back and, looking rather tense, turned towards Cuauhtémoc. The other man turned his head, looking him up and down, then nodded with a smile, "I can feel Mister Alejandro's integrity."

"I will facilitate the progress of this matter."

Alejandro relaxed.

He swore!

The most correct decision in his life was to cling to Victor's coattails!

In less than a year, he went from being the Director of the Prison Administration Bureau to possibly becoming a Governor. With only 32 states in Mexico, this meant he was almost achieving a feudal lord status.

Long live Uncle Victor!!

The conversation between them was quite pleasant, at least they reached a consensus on basic understanding.

After the conversation ended, Cuauhtémoc made a personal request; he hoped his wife and son could stay in Baja California.

"I don't want them to continue to walk into danger with me."

Victor nodded, "Of course, no problem. I'll arrange for him to go to a school in Guadalupe Island, and I'll find a job for your wife in the city hall. About your safety, don't worry; leave your Guard Corps to us."

Cuauhtémoc sincerely said, "Thank you! Thank you!"

The matter with the Guard Corps wasn't about Victor trying to plant his own people close to him; besides himself, who else did he trust?

During Calderon's time, there were 15 people in the Presidential Guard who had connections with drug traffickers, and some even attempted poisoning.

Sometimes the struggle does not pick means!

...

Mexico City. Presidential Residence.

Carlos had barely eaten in almost two days.

Quintero had disappeared!

And he knew far too many of his secrets.

Even, one could say, scandals.

Thump thump thump.

The sound of footsteps approached as the secretary Ajit ran in. He had been busy lately and still looked flustered. Glancing at Carlos's back, he took a deep breath, "Sir."

"Speak."

"According to the investigation by the Mexican National Security Intelligence Agency (Cisen), he is likely to have been abducted by some 'professionals'. Reviewing his contacts, we found that before disappearing, he was in touch with a female journalist named Leanna Lazaro Cortes."

And that female journalist had been investigated by Cisen too; she was arrested by Victor while interviewing in Baja California!

Carlos whipped around, "Victor?"

Ajit nodded.

It's just that Spanish swear words are too scarce, Carlos's old face turned red with effort, and at last, he could only say two words, "Bastard!"

Ajit looked up at him, then dropped another piece of news, "Cisen found out that Cuauhtémoc took a leave claiming a family emergency, but... we discovered he took his entire family to Baja California."

"Cuauhtémoc?!!"

If Victor was a "jumping grasshopper" in Carlos's eyes, then Cuauhtémoc was a thorn in his side, a nail in his coffin.

In the factions of Mexico, Cuauhtémoc had always been a challenger to his position.

And Carlos, wanting to be re-elected, always guarded against him.

Even some of the "methods" of the traffickers were sanctioned by him, and his wife's injured leg was the result of him ordering a car hit!

It was all to sabotage his reputation.

Many opportunists, seeing no future in following him, changed their stance.

But to see the man he'd kept down struggling to rise up, and not only that, planning to join forces with another "Bastard"?

This just couldn't be.

Carlos's bald head was radiating a menacing aura.

"Kill him! Get someone to kill him!"

His voice echoed hysterically in the office.

I can't beat Victor...

But I sure as hell can't lose to you, can I?

...

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