Working as a police officer in Mexico

Chapter 52 : 52: I Hate It Most When Others Pretend...

The next day.

Victor got out of the armored car, looking exhausted.

He was just too "great," fearing the drug lords might continue causing trouble at night, so he stayed with EDM on Mexico City's most bustling "Central Street."

About...300 meters from the city hall.

Basically, he didn't trust the politicians' integrity. If they wouldn't give him an "interrogation" opportunity and just sent soldiers to arrest him, maybe Victor could take out those high-and-mighty big shots with one shot?

He had been this way since he was young, trusting no one.

"Boss, a call for you, from Mr. Alejandro," Kennedy Heisenberg emerged from the armored car, handing him the phone.

Victor took a leak, shook off, wiped his hands on Kennedy's body, then took the phone and said with a smile, "Good morning, Alejandro."

See, he didn't even call him Director anymore.

"Where are you? Just got notified, the meeting's been rescheduled to 8:05 AM."

Victor glanced at his watch, time had turned to 8 o'clock, and he instantly understood that those big shots were trying to show him who's boss.

"Have them push it to 8:30, wait for me to finish breakfast before I come over."

Alejandro knew something like this would happen, those idiots thought they could suppress his momentum?

You'd need women to help you blow that up!

"Victor, hard fighting with them won't do you any good," Alejandro said, pinching his temples.

"Sir, I'm quite straightforward when I speak. If they don't like me, let them come shoot me dead. If they don't have the guts, then please ask them to sit down and wait until I finish eating, then I'll come talk to them."

With that, he hung up the phone.

Alejandro cursed helplessly as the dial tone rang out in the brick phone, furrowing his brow. He knew Victor's money wouldn't be easy to earn. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his briefcase, got out of the car, and walked toward the city hall.

Of course, Victor wasn't really going to eat. They had just had a shoot-out the day before and were still under military control, so you couldn't even see street vendors.

He was just sitting in the car, waiting for the time to pass, smoking a cigarette.

Man, you gotta jump. If you don't, people will think you're a pushover, a nice guy. Don't believe that crap about how if you're gold you'll shine. With a rag thrown over you, you'll never turn over in your life.

Especially in a place like Mexico, full of violence.

Think you can crush Victor down?

I'll smash your asses to pieces!

Victor delayed until 8:40 AM before heading to the city hall with 10 members of the EDM. He was "afraid" to go alone.

Although there were guards at the entrance of the city hall, they didn't step forward to question or ask the team to lay down their weapons, which didn't fit with the "Mexican national situation."

Reaching the third floor and standing at the door, he could already hear the angry questioning from inside, a woman's voice, "Alejandro! Where is Victor?"

"This is lawless, so arrogant! I've never seen a government employee like this."

Victor pushed the door open forcefully and yelled, "Then let me show you."

The room inside was quite spacious, and the 12 interrogators sat in a circle, with Alejandro standing in the middle being scolded, a sycophantic smile on his face.

The interrogators were 8 men and 4 women. Victor took a quick glance.

All damn scumbags surrounded by foul air.

Victor straightened his clothes and walked over to Alejandro amidst everyone's gaze, looking left and right and spreading his hands, "Ladies and gentlemen, where's my seat?"

The bureaucrats snapped back to reality.

He saw a woman in her 40s, with vestiges of beauty, wearing tailored black clothes and gold-rimmed glasses, her chest pronounced.

She sat on the left, with a dark face, "Victor, you are late..."

That was the voice that had been scolding Alejandro just now.

Victor interrupted her, "Late? The time you set or the time I set? I don't accept the time you set."

The interrogators were all shocked at such a direct challenge.

"Victor! Do you realize what you're saying? You're a criminal now..."

"Shut up!"

Victor rushed forward, his expression ferocious, his hands slamming hard on the table. "I'm out there fighting drug traffickers with guns, and you're here bossing around. What right do you have to call me a criminal?"

He grabbed the other party's clothes, pulled hard to reveal a butterfly tattoo on the shoulder, and then sneered, "What's this?"

Without waiting for a response, he slapped her face and chastised loudly, "What is this!"

The force of the slap was not light, knocking the woman to the ground, her half-face swelling up. Victor pointed at her and cursed, "You, a member of the Mexican Government, act like a whore. Who are you to talk about me? What right do you have to speak of me, or to judge Alejandro?"

"Ptooey~" He spat a thick glob of phlegm on her.

"If you're dirty, roll aside and don't block my view," Victor said as he lifted the woman's chair, dragging it to the center, and sat down with a plop, crossing his legs and looking at the others with an aggressive gaze. "Sir, I have a herniated disc and standing is uncomfortable, taking a chair isn't too much to ask, right?"

The other female interrogators hurried to help her, her face streaked with tears.

Don't be fooled by her crying; Victor found her résumé quite "impressive."

A senior assistant in the security department.

Lover of Sinaloa's high-level boss Zambada!

Also a socialite who mingles with senior officials of the security department.

She often betrayed military and police drug enforcement information to Zambada, allowing the Sinaloa Group to escape crises multiple times.

Such a person...

You want to judge me?

The fact that I haven't blown you away is already a sign of my moral flexibility.

In this lifetime, Victor has been uncompromising when it comes to drug dealing.

Victor's "brutality index" skyrocketed in everyone's mind; this guy definitely had some psychological abnormalities, or rather, was twisted.

Bang, bang, bang!

The sound of a hammer hitting the table could be heard.

Centered was a middle-aged man who looked very dignified, with thick brows and large eyes, his complexion equally unpleasant. "Victor, I will record your insulting and assaulting a superior in the minutes of the meeting. This is not in your favor, and I hope you can adjust your attitude."

"We're here to understand the cause of an incident. We've received many anonymous letters claiming you've abused prisoners in jail. Is there any truth to that?"

"No," Victor said firmly.

"Then how do you explain the allegations of prisoner abuse?"

"You could call the accuser over and let me confront them."

Rest assured, I won't kill him!

The middle-aged man nodded before suddenly looking up. "Yesterday, someone claimed you killed a prisoner. What do you have to say about that?"

Victor spread his hands. "Slander. This is complete slander. If there is evidence, please arrest me."

"Then how do you explain that Plateau Prison suddenly had over a thousand people missing?"

Victor looked deeply at him; clearly, the security department had spies inside, but he remained calm. "They escaped, a riot happened yesterday, and they all ran off."

Such blatant lying put the interrogator in a difficult position.
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"It seems that your ability to manage the prison isn't very good, Officer Victor," the middle-aged man said while looking at him.

"Then you should go kill yourself, Commander, because you all can't even control the Mexican drug traffickers."

His words enraged the middle-aged man who slammed the table and stood up, "Watch your tone."

Victor had already grown impatient and stood up from his chair. Alejandro flinched, thinking Victor was about to hit the man, and quickly pulled at him, whispering, "You can't hit him, this is the Director of Drug Enforcement at the Security Department."

Quite a high position.

Victor shook off Alejandro and walked up to the middle-aged man, pressing his hands on the table and staring into his eyes as the man tried to hold his ground against him.

He actually seemed like a pretty good bureaucrat.

"Mr. Luciano, I must say I admire you," Victor suddenly said with a smile, reaching out to dust off the man's clothes. "Sleeping at your mistress's place last night and showing up for work today, didn't snort it all yesterday, did you? Oh, and you better hide the money from Tijuana well, it'll break your heart if it gets lost."

Luciano's eyes flickered, and his expression instantly soured, "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"You think you can mess with me, Victor?" He grabbed the other man's collar and yanked him closer, snatching his meeting notes from the table and looking at the negative remarks about himself before smiling, "It seems you have some issues with me. Change it, write that Victor is brave and smart, with excellent qualities."

"Impossible, you're threatening and slandering a superior. I will—ah!!!"

Victor swiftly drew a dagger and drove it through the man's hand and into the table; blood immediately began seeping out.

"I despise posturing the most! Sir!"

...