Working as a police officer in Mexico

Chapter 64 Mr. Santos~

The ones who are most concerned about the situation on Guadalupe Island are probably the Tijuana Cartel and some corrupt officials.

Mexicali!

The capital of Baja California State.

The Governor's office.

Rafael Max stared at the stacks of US Dollars on the coffee table in front of him and couldn't help but swallow his saliva.

"Governor Max."

The man sitting in front of him had somewhat fluffy hair and was wearing a yellow shirt with spots, still donning sunglasses indoors and crossing his legs in an arrogant pose.

Such goddamn posturing!

He called out, and Max somewhat reluctantly shifted his gaze, lifted his head to look at the man, his expression sycophantic, "Mr. Ramon, you can speak directly. With our relationship, there's no need for formalities."

Ramon Arellano smiled, "As long as you're happy, Governor Sir, our Tijuana Group is not short of money, but we do dislike trouble."

Max's expression changed, "Are you talking about Victor?"

Ramon nodded, "His actions on Guadalupe Island have severely harmed our interests, you know, without us, the junkies in the United States would significantly affect local security."

"What do you mean?"

"Take out Victor..."

Max gave a sheepish laugh, "Killing a police chief, you guys should have more experience in that than me."

Ramon couldn't continue with that, if he could send his men to Guadalupe Island, would he need you?

The message from above was clear; the shit had hit the fan.

Tijuana is now at war with Sinaloa, both sides evenly matched and unable to spare more manpower. Anyway, the Governor is one of our own; give him some money and let him figure it out.

Seeing Max's expression, Ramon gestured to his subordinate, who took another bundle of US Dollars from the carrying case and continued to stack it up.

Drug traffickers love these "impressive yet hollow" gestures, but they know all too well the weakness of these corrupt officials—it's money, right?

The one thing drug cartels have in abundance is cash.

The Medellin Cartel could rake in 180 million US Dollars per day from the United States in the 80s, how could you ever spend all that money?

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But it also highlights a fact: so much cash flowing out, and the most significant part, not paying a damn tax, no wonder the Yanks would be furious.

They're not afraid of how much you want, just if you don't want any.

As expected, once Max saw the money he became "hungry," his face creased with smiles, "Killing Victor directly is not something I can do, but Guadalupe Island is still under Lower California. In a few days, I'll have him come back for a security meeting. You can take him out on the way."

Ramon frowned; he was a blunt man and preferred direct approaches, but he also understood that it was impossible for a Governor to shoot a subordinate, "Can you guarantee he'll come?"

"If he still wants a career, and I have the power to propose a new chief for Guadalupe Island."

"I'll have someone contact him right away."

Ramon nodded, picked up the wine in front of him, and raised his glass with a smile.

...

"Go to Mexicali for a meeting? To hell with that."

Victor set down his teacup, "I know what those bastards are up to just by their smug faces. A meeting? Sure, let them come here. I have plenty of space; they can have it their way."

"I think it's a trap, Rafael Max's reputation isn't so great. I'd heard of him back in Mexico City, they say he's involved in Tijuana's drug trafficking."

"Drug trafficking? We'll find an opportunity to take them all out!"

"I want to see, when there's a gun to his head, if he's still going to talk about holding a meeting."

Casare hesitated, "If they send a new mayor or chief to replace you..."

"Buddy, there are many accidents in this world that you simply can't avoid. Guadalupe Island is at least 260 kilometers from the shore; you can't predict the day the waves will come, right?"

"A boss isn't a boss just because he is; it's because I acknowledge him, that's why!"

Casare understood what Victor meant.

The great white sharks of the Pacific had been having a good time recently.

Thump thump thump~

A knock on the door sounded, and an officer opened the door, "Boss, there's a kid looking for you downstairs."

"A kid?"

Victor frowned, "Go take a look."

Police station lobby.

It had been cleaned up, except for the bullet holes in the walls.

Santos, with a cloth bag on his back, was leaning on the counter, just watching an officer loading a gun, his calves pressed hard against the counter to prevent himself from sliding down.

"Hermano mayor (big brother), what's this gun called?"

The officer looked up at the inquisitive eyes of the child, his heart softened, "CZ75 handgun."

"So cool~" Santos sighed, "When I grow up and join the police, can I get a weapon like this?"

"Why do you want to become a police officer?"

"Of course, it's to uphold justice!"

His voice wasn't quiet, the nearby officers all heard it.

"Uphold justice?"

Santos nodded, his eyes shining, "Just like you all, maintaining the safety of Guadalupe Island, I want to protect my mom, Uncle Lopez, Tanis, Pedro..."

As he spoke, he even started to count on his fingers.

"I want to become a real man, just like my father!"

The officer polishing the gun: "Where is your father?"

Santos's smile paused, a touch of loss in his expression, "He was killed by drug traffickers, but he also killed three drug traffickers!"

As he spoke, pride flashed across his face.

The words left the officer a bit at a loss, unsure how to comfort him.

"Your father was a hero." A voice came from behind Santos; he quickly turned his head and saw a familiar face.

"Mr. Victor!" Santos shouted excitedly.

"What a great kid."

Victor smiled and ruffled his hair, "But to become a hero you still need to work hard, you have to grow tall and become strong, only then will you have the strength to defeat the drug traffickers."

Santos nodded excitedly, looking around, "Mr. Victor, I have something to tell you."

Victor naturally leaned down to listen, and the boy whispered beside him, "I found out that someone is hiding drugs in the church."

"How do you know?"

"I overheard it. People transport goods for drug traffickers next to my house, and they don't care because I'm just a kid."

Victor pondered carefully; these drug traffickers must be desperate. If they can't move the product, it's like rotting in their hands, and they can't afford the loss.

Do drugs have a shelf life?

"Fantastic, young man, what reward do you need?" Victor asked with a smile.

"Can I become one of your officers when the time comes? Sir!"

Santos raised his hand excitedly, like an avid little fan, "To fight for Mexico's drug suppression efforts with you for the rest of my life!"

Victor saw the love for his country in the boy's small eyes.

No matter how bad a place, there will always be people who deeply love it, and if they're gone, the land is doomed to perish.

Victor patted Santos's hand.

Smack!

"Then you'll certainly be the bravest officer, Mr. Santos."

This "sir" made the boy smile with unparalleled brilliance.

...