Working as a police officer in Mexico

Victor thought for a moment and then decided to accept the invitation.

Casare looked at him, "Boss, should we bring some local specialties with us?"

"What specialties does Mexico have? Junkies who pee and poo everywhere?" Victor asked in surprise, unable to hold back a laugh, "Or do you think we should bring them some newly developed drugs from the traffickers?"

This made Casare's face turn red.

Whatever Mexico has, the United States has too, including junkies!

And what Mexico doesn't have, the United States has too, like the junkies in Florida.

That place...

There's a rumor that one Christmas, a poor black woman who might have taken too many drugs, thought of stealing a Christmas tree to bring home. But she couldn't find a place to hide it, so... she stuffed the tree inside her body.

In the end, she was taken away by an ambulance due to severe blood loss.

"This time we go, mourning the victims is one thing, but another thing is to get the Americans to donate, $100 per person. Even if we end up with just a few hundred thousand, it will help cover some of our expenses. As for what to bring, just take a heart full of loyalty with you.

Find Mexico's best painter to paint a bust of Bush, and when it's time to give the gift, say this thing's been hanging in my office for a long time. Let the Americans know we stand with them."

When it came to flattery, Victor was a professional.

No way around it, if you can't beat them, you've got to flatter them first.

He could have been tough, just like Colonel Ka, but you know how it goes. The guy ended up getting pinned down and beaten by five big men, with hundreds of onlookers, and not a single person dared to plead on his behalf.

When the boss got tired of beating him, each one of them went to wipe their sweat like cheap tramps, all the while muttering, "Colonel Ka, you're making brother work so hard."

Victor's foreign policy strategy boiled down to one sentence: "If I can beat them, I'll fuck their mother."

If he couldn't beat them, "Bro, your wish is my command!"

All of a sudden, Casare didn't quite know why, but a picture popped into his head.

"Yo! Family, time for dinner!"

He shuddered out of the blue, thinking, That's TMD too sleazy, right?

"What's wrong?" Victor glanced at him.

Casare hurriedly shook his head, changing the subject, "Boss, how should the entourage be arranged?"

"You and Kennedy will come with me. Transfer Zolf Sherman to Tijuana to take my place, and leave the front line troops to Damon Hesfu Zola of the Mexican National Emergency Squad."

Victor was speaking when he suddenly paused, frowning, then changing the subject abruptly, "How's the implementation of the police council in Tijuana going?"

"It's going smoothly, but some people are still talking behind our backs, obviously having strong opinions."

"They have opinions? Looks like they are not too satisfied with me. Let the Thirteen Protectors pay a visit to their houses. People who don't support decisions definitely have a problem!" Victor said bluntly.
Continue your adventure at empire

The "dictatorial" tactics of a military council were, idiomatically, less of an obstacle in Sonora State. No wonder—they were all dealt with swiftly by him.

But in Tijuana, many realized that Victor was aiming for absolute control!

They were a bit annoyed at the loss of power, but when logic comes from the barrel of a gun, they could only retreat.

"Tomorrow, I want to convene the first council meeting to discuss streamlining and expanding the Anti-Drug Force, arrange that."

Casare's heart stirred. Was the boss planning to reorganize the police force?!

He had a feeling that he was going to be promoted again!?

"Yes! Boss!"

Victor squinted his eyes. He planned to restructure the police force before going to the United States. It was time for the emergence of the land, sea, and air police force.

It was also time to elevate his own police rank.

Mexico City disagrees?

My own rules, why do I need someone else's approval?!

...

In the Godr community.

Also known as the Tijuana Bureaucratic District.

Many government officials live here.

Including the Chief Justice of Baja California State, and the Speaker of the state legislature—they all reside here, and the two families usually get along quite well. Moreover, because their villas are adjacent, they can even see each other in the gardens.

So, they often "secretly grumble" to each other.

August 6 was no different.

After dinner, two people leaned against the wall, complaining about Victor's policies and his "atrocities!"

"Victor actually dissolved the parliament and had those blockheads hold some sort of military council; this is dictatorship, he's dragging Mexico back to the dark ages!" Ral Jimenez, the former Speaker of the House, lamented, shaking his head.

He was nearly 60, with a bush of unruly hair.

With a cigarette dangling from his lips and a furrowed brow, he said, "Victor is consolidating power, his ambition is growing, I knew early on he was no good Samaritan, but his moves are too quick."

He lowered his voice, "I've heard that he's slaughtered the assembly of Sonora State!"

Next to him, the Chief Justice of Lower California, Jose Guadalado, listened quietly. Startled by what he heard, he exclaimed, "Slaughtered? You serious? Victor couldn't do such a thing! This… this is opposing the entire Mexican system!"

Ral Jimenez had been stripped of his Speaker position for almost a month now, and was harboring resentment. Seeing his old friend's disbelief, he smacked his lips, about to speak again, when they heard the screeching of brakes and turned to look.

Five vehicles pulled up at the door. About a dozen people climbed out, wearing police uniforms that looked slightly different from the usual Mexican police attire, having a Germanic style. On their chest was a phrase.

"Loyalty Over Reason!"

There was also an image of a pair of scales, tilted to the left with the word Victor written above it!

On the raised right side were the words: Life.

Meaning, Victor over life!

The leader, George Smiley, approached the door and produced his credentials, "Mexican Intelligence Bureau, Unit 13!"

"Mr. Ral Jimenez, you are suspected of publicly slandering Mr. Victor."

"Please come with us for an investigation."

Unit 13?

What was that?

They didn't know but seeing their demeanor, one word came to mind, "Cheka!"

The Thirteen Protectors was of course just a nickname, not an official designation.

The staff standing behind George Smiley stormed in and, amidst the former Speaker's struggle, they pinned him to the ground and handcuffed him.

Family members who heard the commotion inside ran out, and upon witnessing the scene, they began crying out. A Teddy dog even barked furiously, baring its teeth at George Smiley and rushing over, intending to bite him!

"Get lost!"

George Smiley kicked the Teddy dog's chin, knocking it to the ground, then stepped on its head with force, twisting as though stubbing out a cigarette.

"Woof woof... whimper whimper!"

The Teddy dog barked desperately, but its cries soon turned into whimpers as George Smiley stomped on its face hard, putting it out of its misery.

Such a little thing, yet so fierce!

"You released a fierce dog, attempting to attack the personnel of the Co-Government. This is reprehensible behavior, please come with us to Unit 13 for a cup of tea," George Smiley said, squinting at Ral Jimenez's family.

"This is retaliation! This is defamation!" the captured former Speaker cried out loudly, "Save me, Jose!"

George Smiley looked at the Chief Justice of Lower California, who was standing aside, shocked. After meeting George's gaze, the judge shuddered and hastily raised his hands, "I don't know him!"

Ral Jimenez felt a chill run down his spine as he shouted aghast, "Jose! We've even been to brothels together for X..."

"Cover his mouth; he's defaming me!" the Chief Justice's face turned pale as he shouted, unable to let such words spread.

Amused by what he heard, George Smiley walked over to the visibly shaken Jose Guadalado, "Your Honor, if you wish to visit a brothel, please remember to pay your taxes on time."

He patted his shoulder, adding, "Make sure not to forget to pay up, else you might end up in jail." With that, he left, leaving the other man sweating profusely.

Inside the vehicle, George Smiley picked up a roster from the dashboard.

There were over twenty names on it.

"Let's move to the next location, Congressman Jorge Campos."

"He said in the bar that Mr. Victor is... a Rat."

"Catch him and rip his tongue out!" George Smiley said chillingly.

Unit 13 was destined to become notorious.

…