Working as a police officer in Mexico

Chapter 69 Negotiation? What do you think you are!

Mexicali!

In the governor's office.

After sending off Tijuana's talker, Ramon Arellano, Rafael Max returned to the office and flew into a rage, flipping everything on the desk except for the money.

"What does he Victor want to do!"

So that's what Casare Gonzalez, the senior assistant of the Guadalupe Island Police Station, said about inviting him to Mexicali?

"The hemorrhoids burst; can't make the trip."

When the secretary relayed this to Rafael Max, the 57-year-old governor almost retired prematurely.

He was still very principled; he took Tijuana's money, so he had to do their bidding.

The main reason was... fear of death!

Ramon Arellano had just warned him that if he didn't take down Victor, the Tijuana Group could not guarantee the safety of Rafael Max's daughter in the United States.

This was a threat!

For a governor to be threatened by a drug cartel was rare anywhere in the world, but when you peeled back the cover and saw it was Mexico, it felt all too natural.

In 2019, within ten months, 48 presidential candidates were shot dead by drug traffickers, most of whom were in high positions.

Governor?

What's that?

If they say you're done, you're done.

The exasperated governor sat in his chair, his mind weaving strategies; politicians might lack force, but they were full of cunning plans.

He quickly thought of a solution.

Appoint a mayor for Guadalupe Island who would naturally be in charge of Victor by virtue of position and rank. Then find an excuse to remove him from his post.

This was a good plan!

But who to send?

Rafael Max drummed his fingers on the desk, pondering over the candidates.

The next day.

Just as Victor was settling into his office to start work, Casare came in with a strange look on his face and knocked on the door.

"Boss, the drug lords have sent a representative over, wanting to talk to you."

Victor wiped the table with a napkin and tossed it in the trash, "Did they say anything?"

Casare shook his head, "But it's probably surrender. It seems we scared them yesterday."

Victor, in a bid to publicize his achievements, had the bodies of the Portillo family's key members (what could be pieced together) dragged by officers to several communities with high foot traffic for exhibition.

They were piled up like dead dogs.

It brought quite a bit of shock to the public.

The braver ones even ran to the "ruins" of the Portillo family's estate, as it's probably called now, where not a single good brick could be found, limbs lay scattered everywhere, and heads hung on the walls.

Even the beehives under the eaves were blasted apart!

The two dogs they raised were dead too.

It was sheer brutality.

Privately, some citizens and drug traffickers had begun to call him "Tirano (Tyrant)!"

"Bring them in."

Casare nodded and headed out of the office. Shortly, he returned with two burly men, led by the imposing figure of Warrior Francisco.

His stature was indeed pressure-inducing.

Victor glanced at the man, "No matter how big they are, one shot takes them down."

"Brother, times have changed!"

He sat in the chair, his arms crossed in front of his chest, staring straight ahead.

This demeanor made Francisco's color stiffen, and watching the burly man holding his breath, he pressed down on his somewhat pale-looking companion, "Officer Victor, won't you invite us to sit?"

Victor laughed at this remark, "What's your status? What's mine? You think you're still the big shot on Guadalupe Island? Standing while you report to me is enough when you come here."

"What the hell do you mean, you damn cop!"

Francisco couldn't hold back his companion, who was furious and about to go after Victor when the police at the door swarmed in.

Victor gestured with his hand to signal Kennedy and the others to relax, walked over, straightened the man's clothes, and said with a smile, "Young people are just impulsive, hot tempered."

"Damn your mother!"

He grabbed the man's hair with one hand, yanked it hard, and his right hand took out a folding knife from his pocket and stabbed at the man's neck with force!

Francisco was about to rush over at the sight.

"I'm warning you, don't move," Casare drew his gun and pointed it at him, and Francisco immediately stopped in his tracks.

Victor stabbed repeatedly with his butterfly knife, blood spurted from the throat's vessels, splashing all over him.

The drug trafficker glared, struggling hard, his hand still holding on to Victor's clothes, who raised the knife and plunged it into the man's eyes, striking bone where it should have been softest.

After struggling for a while, he finally pulled out the butterfly knife.

Victor stood up, turned around, and glanced at Francisco, who couldn't help but swallow at the sight of that look in his eyes.

Victor squeezed out a smile, cleaning the bloodstains on Francisco's clothes with the butterfly knife, "If you're too hot-headed, you need to be dealt with." Your journey continues on m v|l--NovelBin.net

Francisco glanced at the corpse of his companion on the floor, the gaping hole where the eyes used to be made him shudder.

"We came here to negotiate," he said, mustering his spirit.

"Negotiate? What right do you have? I've won, why should I negotiate? Not satisfied? Call your men and let's have another round, see if Jesus will stand by you. I'm telling you, I'm the boss of Guadalupe Island, Jesus is number two!" Victor slammed the table and gestured thumbs towards himself.

"Either die on this island or roll out of here, and don't take any weapons with you. Take anything else, and if you agree, I'll find you a boat tomorrow. My word is final."

Victor's arrogance and fury gave Francisco a headache, he had never seen anyone like this.

Mexico's politicians, no, a police station director hardly counts as a politician, which one isn't about taking bribes? It's all good as long as everyone is happy, but someone like Victor so eager to fight the drug trade is truly unique.

People propose drug bans, but who's going to be the one to take the shots?

Francisco: "I need to discuss this with them."

Victor waved his hand dismissively, "If you can't decide, go discuss it. You have 24 hours, if I don't get a response by tomorrow, then it's war. I don't have much time to waste here chit-chatting with you."

Francisco nodded, glanced at the corpse of his companion on the floor, realizing that taking the dead man back was pointless.

But as he reached the door, he suddenly stopped, "Director Victor, may I ask why you hate drug traffickers so much? Don't we deserve any way out?"

"We could give up half our profits to you!"

"I'm a cop, not Jesus! Go make your wishes to a priest."

Which drug trafficker doesn't deserve to be killed?

All should be executed!

"Scaring them isn't enough, drug traffickers are like lions, they love to pounce when you seem lax and bite you to death, but sorry, I'm a hunter, I like to kill them as soon as I see them!" Victor said, squinting his eyes at Casare as he watched Francisco leave.

"Will they surrender?" asked Casare.

"When you've lost the courage to resist, it's not easy to muster it again. If he surrenders, arrange for them to be taken to the docks."

Victor paused, "It'll be more convenient to feed them to the fish then!"

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