Working as a police officer in Mexico

Tijuana International Airport!

A red carpet was laid out.

Cuauhtémoc, in a suit, was personally at the scene to welcome the guests. As soon as the cabin door opened, he was already smiling, waiting for Barzan, Saddam's brother, to come down the gangway. He extended his hand first.

"Welcome, Mr. Barzan."

"Thank you, Cuauhtémoc, my friend." The other even gave a hug, which made him startled for a moment, but then he quickly revealed a smile.

He is already a seasoned politician.

Of course, he understands one thing...

All flattery is to gain benefits from you.

Just like a man in his twenties going after a woman in her sixties, don't tell me it's for love...

"Please get in the car."

Barzan looked to his left and right, hesitated, and asked, "Isn't Mr. Victor coming?"

"He is overseeing the battle at the front lines, as you know, those drug traffickers are like centipedes, not dying completely, you have to keep pressing on them and attacking."

Hearing this, the Iraqi's eyes flashed with a hint of disappointment. He wanted to say more, but Cuauhtémoc pushed him into the car and then got in himself.

Barzan could only sigh. Diplomatic etiquette is here.

Ahead, six Harley police motorcycles cleared the way, followed by two bulletproof transport vehicles with doctors, nurses, and emergency rescue equipment inside, with three Special Service bodyguard vehicles behind, then the important target vehicle, and finally, two bulletproof vehicles at the rear as the rear guard.

This level of security is a bloody lesson.

When passing through an intersection, traffic police were stopping traffic.

Sometimes, such privileges are a form of mutual protection. If someone recklessly drives through, who do you think would be unlucky?

Surely not me, right?

"Mr. Barzan, you visited Tijuana last December," Cuauhtémoc said with a smile beside him, pointing outside the window, "It's been almost ten months since we've seen each other, what do you think now?"

The Iraqi looked at the Moat by the roadside, where people were selling toys, children were rolling on the ground, throwing tantrums while holding onto their parents, couples in love were cuddling with each other, older couples were dancing in an open space.

Colorful lights hung over the river, and music could be heard.

"Tranquility, peace..."

"Happiness."

A hint of longing appeared in Barzan's eyes. He hid it very... very deep!

He too wished Iraq could be like this, but obviously...

If Big Brother had not ruled Iraq with such brutality more than a decade ago, perhaps it would not have come to the current hesitant situation. Funnily enough, when Saddam fell, some people even thought his regime was the most prosperous Iraq had ever been.

Of course, it was much better than during the later war times.

But, the public lacked medical care and food, and with Saddam's personality, it was impossible for him to please everyone, resulting in poor relations with his neighbors.

Moreover, the decade-long Iran-Iraq War, he was actually pro-American!!

Iran was the one that was pro-Soviet!!

If Lu Bu was a "servant of three surnames," what was Saddam?

He experienced a ton of bad things...

Family conflicts were massive, his two sons couldn't see eye to eye, without establishing a clear rule early on, making both of them feel they had a chance was a hidden danger, bound to erupt sooner or later.

And what era was it, still wanting to colonize with force?

Didn't the Vietnamese tell you?

Don't jump too high, or they'll serve you some orange juice!

"What the people want, we at the Governor's Mansion do, just like Victor always says, a peaceful life is hard-won, anyone, any organization, any force that dares to take Mexico back down the old drug trafficking route, we all disagree."

"Including the United States?" Barzan suddenly said.

"Even aliens coming to Mexico would have to take a drug test, if they're on drugs, they'd still be shot," Cuauhtémoc joked gracefully, "Perhaps before long, Americans will be asking us for our drug prohibition experience."

But from his words, one could hear a kind of firmness!

The convoy arrived at the "designated hotel". When disembarking, Barzan grabbed Cuauhtémoc's hand, "Mr. President, I wish to meet General Victor."

"Please tell him, we hope to form an Anti-American Alliance together, to fight against the hegemony of the Western World!"

It's just because Cuauhtémoc is such a good-natured person that after hearing this, he didn't overthink it. If it were someone else with more complicated thoughts, they might have felt choked up by this comment, feeling that his presidency isn't as important as serving Victor.

He patted Barzan's hand with a smile, "Don't worry, I will convey the message. It's very late today, you should rest early, and we can have an in-depth chat tomorrow."

Barzan also knew that haste wouldn't get him anywhere. He nodded slightly, and with a bit of worry, walked into the hotel guided by the staff.

He didn't know why his composure had deserted him upon arriving in Mexico.

Was it because he saw signs of collapse in Iraq?

Or was it that when standing on tiptoes and looking around, everywhere seemed to be full of enemies? It was only here in Mexico that hostilities seemed milder.

Cuauhtémoc watched him go upstairs, then got back in the car and said to his secretary, "Take Goebbels with him to the museum tomorrow, and the day after, take him to visit the anti-drug theme museum..."

"Sir, aren't we going to discuss business with him?"

"What's there to discuss? Iraq is in the Middle East, we're in North America; he can't bring us any benefits. Let him think about what he can offer us, then we'll sit down and have a proper talk."

"We don't accept empty promises."

"Let him cool down for a couple of days."

"Understood."

Cuauhtémoc looked up at the hotel, a smile on his lips. Barzan's attempt at sowing discord was merely like scratching an itch, "Drive."