Working as a police officer in Mexico

Chapter 38: 38: I'll Make Sure You Have More Bullet Holes than Me!

Late at night.

A pickup truck roared down the road, its bed covered with a rain tarp.

Revenge never waits overnight!

Gentlemen say revenge can wait ten years because gentlemen lack the means for immediate revenge.

You're telling me to wait when I've got a cannon ready now?

It was already too late to "maintain justice".

Killing drug traffickers, do I need to wait for an auspicious day?

As long as I have the firepower, I declare today the auspicious day!

Sitting in the passenger seat, Duke scratched his head with an instruction manual he had no idea where he'd "picked up" from.

Artillery is part of the technical troops, you think it's as simple as bringing a condom?

Following the pickup were two other cars, one of which was called for support.

Victor handed a hood to the emergency response team leader Harrison in the back, "Put this on."

"Boss Victor, do we need these even at night? After we fire that cannon, those damn mutts might not even see our faces."

"Just to be safe. You wouldn't want any bystanders to see your faces, would you?"

"After three shots of artillery, charge in. I want to hang Olivier at the entrance of Plateau Prison!"

Harrison nodded, covering his face with the hood and holding the Uzi submachine gun provided by Victor, wearing a tactical vest with grenades hanging on either side, and a Makarov at his waist.

Plus four extra magazines.

Without saying, no one would even know you're a jail guard!

Only Harrison's eyes were visible, deep and forceful.

"I remember you served before? In which unit?" Victor suddenly asked, seeing his gear. He remembered reading the jail guard's file before, which mentioned his military service.

Harrison paused, "GAFE!"

Even Casare, who was driving, couldn't help but raise his head to glance at him.

Victor's gaze became… peculiar.

The Mexican GAFE Special Forces were quite famous. In 1986, a special force was specifically created to fight drug traffickers — outstanding in battle and rich in commendations.

But what really made them "famous" was something else.

After Gulf Group spokesperson Abrego was arrested and Cardenas took over, to solidify his own power, he had Arturo Desena, then a 23-year-old from Tamaulipas State serving as a federal cop, create a Special Forces bodyguard unit.

He recruited 30 Special Forces members, all from the Mexican GAFE Special Forces!

Using his codename "Z" from his cop days, they were lined up starting from Z1. After Arturo Desena was killed while meeting his mistress, Z2 Gonzalez, lacking a Special Forces background as he was an installed pawn, couldn't really command respect.

Z3 Razcano was the true leader among these Special Forces members.

These men later became: Los Zetas!

It was unexpected for Harrison to have come out of that unit.

His importance in Victor's eyes suddenly increased.

Maybe, for future missions, he could be brought on board.

What's so great about being a jail guard? Following me, at the very least the salary won't be too shabby.

The other jail guards originally wanted to chat some more, but seeing the captain wasn't in the mood, they also shut up.

At 4:31 in the morning.

They arrived at the designated spot.

The residence of Olivier, provided by Best, was located on a private villa on Loro (Parrot) Street.

It must be said that these drug traffickers make money fast. From the outside, it gave the jail guards, who had never seen such a scene, quite a shock.

Duke and two jail guards jumped off the truck, quickly lifted the tarp, and pushed the prepared shells into the cannon. They didn't even aim; such a big target doesn't need to be precisely targeted.

Duke pulled back the cannon's breechblock.

The shell fired with a pop, flying into the night, and the massive recoil cracked the truck's windows. The shell vanished into the night, but two seconds later, the explosion collapsed half a corner of the villa.

Duke shook his numb head and shouted down to the jail guards below, "Ammo!"

Continue loading, continue firing!

What nonsense is this drug lord, witness my righteous descent from the heavens!

People inside must have been utterly dazed; there was no screaming. After three rounds were fired, half of the villa was gone, even the outdoor swimming pool was filled with rubble and turned into a pool of filth.

Once the task was completed, Duke climbed back into the truck. The pickup slowly drove off, while Harrison and the others got out of their vehicle. A total of eight jail guards charged into Olivier's residence.

Victor sat in the car, watching the time.

Scattered gunshots resonated inside, but quickly fell silent. When the minute hand had moved three notches, he saw Harrison and his team come out, with two Jail Guards dragging along a man who had passed out, dressed in pajamas and his face covered in bloodstains.

They hurriedly tossed him into the trunk; the Jail Guards got into the car, the engine roared twice, and they disappeared into the night, all in less than 10 minutes.

Indeed, poverty resorts to stealth, while wealth cleanses with gunfire.

"How did it go? Any resistance?"

Harrison shook his head, "When we went in, we saw a few bodyguards crushed under the rubble. On the second floor, we found Olivier who had been stunned by the blast. We killed all the others."

"Well done," Victor praised.

Mainly because Olivier couldn't have imagined you'd seek revenge so swiftly and directly bombard him with artillery.

I'm a drug trafficker, not a rebel.

Small-time drug dealers are just too inexperienced.

Even the "gentlemen" of the Cali Cartel in Colombia once thought about using bombers to kill Pablo. They didn't because nobody would sell it to them, remember—not because they couldn't afford it.

Mexicans are naive; after the deed, they even called the cops for you.

The police on the other end were baffled upon hearing the caller.

"Are you sure you saw artillery?"

"I'm positive! I saw it; the whole building blew up. You guys better come quickly."

"Are you sure it was a gang shootout?"

The caller on the other end was irritated, "Of course, what else could it be? The police? Do you have that kind of firepower?"

Pickup trucks and sedans parted ways at the outskirts of the city, each heading its own direction, one towards the village while the other headed to the prison.

The Jail Guard at the gate saw the boss returning and opened the gate without a question.

The car stopped in the courtyard.

Harrison and his colleagues dragged Olivier out of the trunk.

"Give him some adrenaline, hang him up tonight. Don't let him die; I want to execute him in front of all the Jail Guards and inmates tomorrow morning!"

Public execution!

"Boss, we're Jail Guards, privately executing prisoners will put us behind bars!"

Best and Casare panicked when they heard his plan and quickly came up to dissuade him.

"Aren't we already in prison?"

Victor spread his hands, "What's the difference between Mexican Jail Guards and inmates? There are even drug traffickers outside saying that Jail Guards serve them in prison. I want to tell them not to fall into my hands, otherwise, I'll flay them. It's sheer anarchy!"

He tugged at his clothes, feeling slightly hot, and headed towards the dormitory building. After a couple of steps, he walked back to look at Casare, "Send Alejandro twenty thousand US Dollars, he'll fix things for us."

Casare and Best exchanged glances.

Though Mexico is messy, that usually refers to the disorganized Mexican factions. If a Jail Guard does something like this, gossip alone could finish you off outside.

But looking at Victor...

He doesn't care in the slightest.

He wasn't concerned at all; he wanted to establish his reputation as an earnest anti-drug crusader right from the start of his career.

He is a staunch prohibitionist!

The drug lords are not humans to begin with; I'm just using methods not permitted by law to eradicate evil.

This will greatly aid my future journey to higher ranks.

Mexico has suffered long from drugs, and the inaction of the government has gradually been scorned by the people, which is why there was even a peasants' revolt in 1994.

It is despair that is spreading.

Of course, the drug lords will not be scared away by Victor's methods; they may even resort to more brutal means to maintain their interests.

Then it's a matter of who has the harsher methods.

Jesus Himself has to sit down and vote for me.

Drug lords?

Aren't they just people with more manpower and money than me?

Then I'll ensure they have more bullet holes than me too!

Those in a defensive position have no right to negotiate.

...