Working as a police officer in Mexico

Chapter 121 Boss Victor, someone wants to buy me out!

If it wasn't for the camera, Victor would have had this female journalist thrown out long ago.

However, the camera was the only thing determining how much Uncle Victor could tolerate.

He placed his hands on the table and smiled, "I am pleased to inform everyone that the Baja California Security Department has busted a drug trafficker's den. They seized 15 tons of drugs, more than 900 firearms and ammunition, 13 homemade cannons, and killed or injured over 1200 drug traffickers..."

"Among them, 17 were wanted individuals by the Mexican Government, and the amount of drugs seized is the highest in a decade."

A decade ago, when the Guadalajara Cartel was at its zenith, nobody dared to crack down on drugs.

He paused deliberately at this point, and the journalists below very sensibly applauded.

Victor nodded with a smile, ready to speak, when suddenly the female journalist who had just been pulled away by her colleague stood up abruptly and asked loudly, "Chief Victor, what about the prisoners? The drug traffickers' prisoners?"

Damn it!

Are you here to pick a fight or what?

Vic's expression tightened slightly, "There were no prisoners. The traffickers had no intention of surrendering, and that's something else I want to say. Today, when drug abuse is rampant, not only do traffickers possess large-caliber weapons, but they're also more militarized, which means our war on drugs will face even tougher challenges."

"Are there none, or did you kill them all?" the female journalist challenged, pulling out a CD from her bag, "This contains evidence of your use of White Phosphorus Shells and the indiscriminate killing of innocents!"

"You're lying. They wanted to surrender, but you and your men killed those people, and some of them were even civilians."

This statement caused a stir among the surrounding journalists and the public.

It's laughable how some journalists make a big fuss. They never question why drug traffickers produce drugs; they only stand on their high ground to question law enforcement.

Perhaps they know drug traffickers will actually kill them.

While government agencies will compromise!

It's also about creating buzz and hot topics.

Even if there had been hosts who died in Sonora State before, and some blamed it on Victor secretly, you can't stop some people from really being foolish.

"My officers couldn't possibly make a mistake! If you think there's a problem with my law enforcement, you're welcome to lodge a complaint against me with the police department."

Just don't send it to my phone.

"As for killing drug traffickers? That's absurd! I feel like you're sympathizing with the traffickers, which is an insult to the sacrifices police officers make in the fight against drugs.

In fact, I have reason to suspect you've taken money from the traffickers, and they've asked you to come here to stir up emotions, to smear and even insult our officers!" Victor slammed his hand on the table, "I absolutely won't allow such behavior!"

"I suspect you have under-the-table dealings with the traffickers, search her bag," Victor said, looking at Casare, who immediately understood, rushing over with two officers, and went straight to grab her bag.

"What are you doing? These are my personal belongings!" the female journalist yelled, then looked at her colleagues, but they quickly got up and moved aside.

"Are you refusing to cooperate?" Casare asked.

"I'm a journalist, I have the right to ask questions."

"We are the police, and I have the right to suspect you!"

Casare had the officers pry her hand open, then snatched the bag to rummage through it, pulling out a photograph from the lining. Looking at the photo, his eyes lit up, "This must be Quintero, number two in the Guadalajara Cartel."

"I recall the Americans offering a bounty for him, so why do you have a photo with him?"

The female journalist panicked, "I am a journalist, I interview many different people."

Casare shrugged, stuffed the photo into his pocket, "Sorry, miss, but I'm afraid you'll have to go to the police station to explain this."

The officers handcuffed her, and she struggled, "This is persecution! Tyranny!"

Seeing she still didn't know better, an officer smacked her across the face, then yanked her hair and dragged her away. That hit clearly baffled her, and her face instantly swelled.

"Apologies everyone, that was just a little intermission, but let me reiterate, any act of sympathy towards drug traffickers is a disrespect to the drug enforcement officers, and we will retain the right to pursue this matter."

"Thank you, everyone, please feel free to carry on."

Victor was so agitated by the female journalist that he was out of sorts, frowning as he came down. He truly wasn't making baseless claims; that woman had an affair with Quintero, who had given him quite a bit of money while he was around.

Now, she was specifically writing "soft content promotions" for the traffickers.

"Put her in a cell with some traffickers, I want to see just how much she sympathizes with them," Victor said harshly.

Not sorting you out already counts as good, and here you are, jumping out, thinking I'm big-hearted?

I have the smallest heart!

If you sympathize with traffickers, you'll spend time with them.

Casare nodded in acknowledgment.

"Director, you have a call, Mr. Best," the secretary jogged over, handing him the large mobile phone. Victor answered with a smile, "Hi, Best, good morning."

Casare saw the boss's expression slowly stiffen, then his brow furrowed, but soon it eased up.

"Interesting!"

...

Mexico City.

Paseo de la Reforma, this street built in the 19th century crosses the whole city.

It is filled with elegant fountains and historic bronze statues.

As well as birdsong and bees.

If it weren't for the violence and drugs, this country would absolutely be the most attractive place in the entire Latin American region.

In a café wrapped in greenery, the staff yawned comfortably, joking with colleagues.

And in a corner, sat two men.

One was Raul Salinas, and the other was one of Victor's underlings responsible for the "Hope" group, Best.

The latter was looking for business in Mexico City, but got invited to the café by Raul Salinas. Seeing that his brother was the president, he thought there might be some business opportunities, but after nearly forty minutes of rambling, Raul still hadn't gotten to the point.

Best stirred his coffee, glancing at his watch.

Raul Salinas across from him understood immediately. He smiled, pulled a check and pen out of his pocket, and pushed them across the table.

"What's this supposed to mean, sir?" Best was thoroughly confused.

"Fill in whatever you want. I know you work for Victor, get me his criminal records."

"??"

Best was taken aback, then looked up at him, smiled and said, "Are you trying to bribe me?"

Raul Salinas just shrugged, leaned back in his chair, and with a smile said, "Victor is too high profile. I asked him for a favor, and he wouldn't budge. Who does he think he is?"

"The world can't solely be resolved by violence. Our Salinas family has been in Mexico for over 150 years, Mexico is us, we are Mexico!"

This statement was emphatic.

The customers nearby heard it but quickly averted their gaze, reminding themselves of an important lesson: in Mexico, don't be too curious.

Mexico has its own way to deal with "what you lookin' at?"—three shots, just like that.

Best wasn't the pushover he once was. Relying on Victor's "influence," he was not exactly financially free, but his life had definitely improved. The "Hope" group was still growing. You think a word from you can make me join your side?

What are you worth?

On his first day in Mexico City, he heard that this president's brother was somewhat naive, loved to use his brother's influence to collect money, and now seeing him in person, he was not only naïve but also lacked tact.

But Best was clever. He knew you couldn't argue with such people; if he lost face, he might really kill someone in the street.

Instead, he nodded in agreement, occasionally expressing dissatisfaction with Victor, then looked at the check, picked up the pen, wrote down three million US dollars, and pushed it back to him.

Raul Salinas's heart skipped a beat after seeing the amount.

Damn! You really dare to demand such a price.

Best was observing his expression the whole time, and seeing Raul's reaction, he couldn't help but smirk. You say you have no money, but who are you fooling?

Raul Salinas swallowed hard and signed beneath the check, "You've made a very wise decision."

"Can you hand over the check to me?" Best said directly.

Raul Salinas's mouth hung open, he really wanted to say he'd hand over the check after getting the "evidence," but that didn't fit with his persona. He practically gritted his teeth as he handed over the check.

As long as Victor was dead, he would be able to get thirty million US dollars for that 15-ton shipment from Guzman.

It was a profitable deal.

"When can you get it for me?"

Best fell silent for a moment, furrowed his brows, "In three days? I need some time to contact my people."

"No problem, meet here in three days," Raul Salinas said joyously, then grabbed his bag and stood up. Suddenly he asked, "You're not going to take the money and run, are you?"

Best was stunned, then laughed, "Of course not. If I cheated you, I probably wouldn't be able to mix in Mexico anymore, right?"

Raul Salinas nodded at this, his brother was the president after all!

Never underestimate his foolishness!

This guy once stormed into parliament and physically assaulted his brother's opponents, and after his ties with drug traffickers were exposed by journalists, he personally chased them down with a gun.

The incident caused quite a stir.

It was only because his brother had enough clout that he didn't have to step down prematurely.

Of course, Raul Salinas wasn't a complete idiot either. After leaving the café, he ordered his bodyguard to have someone tail Best, "Contact me the moment he leaves Mexico City."

Best finished the last of his coffee; he had been too poor to afford such luxury before, a single cup costing seven US dollars!

He even licked up every bit of the residue beneath the cup.

This scene caused all other customers in the café to stare in disbelief. Wasn't that a bit too low?

Find your adventure at M-V-L

But to Best, this was considered virtuous.

The big boss Victor always said, "Wasting is shameful!"

He walked into the restroom with his bag, found the furthest stall, locked himself in, then called Victor.

He recounted everything that had happened.

The boss laughed on the other end.

"Interesting!"