Ones, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten thousands, daddy, grandpa...
Seeing those seven-digit points, Victor's eyes couldn't move away. Looking at this disheveled middle-aged man in front of him, he really wanted to kill him!
But reason told him: Brother, calm down, you'll be turned into a sieve.
Maybe in the future he could figure out a way to "bomb" Altiplano prison...
Of course, the prerequisite was having a bomber.
Just like how the Cali Group wanted to bomb Pablo, but because they had no bombers, the plan went bankrupt.
Stepan's 70,000-plus points were nothing compared to him.
But who told him his name was Sicily Falcon?
People unfamiliar with Mexican drug trafficking history weren't very clear about this figure, because he wasn't Mexican but Cuban, born in 1945 in Matanzas, Cuba. He joined the army and intelligence services in Miami, playing the role of a double agent.
Later he moved to Mexico, establishing drug trafficking operations in Tijuana state. His drug network spread across the United States, Europe, and even Asia. Known for his cold-bloodedness, he was called the "Drug Baron" by the world. Reportedly, he liked killing enemies with his own hands.
Equally talked about was his love life. He had scandals with many female stars. Rumor had it he had over 20 sons. His little fanboy, the later legendary figure Joaquín Guzmán, also learned his "lustful" trait.
But this guy was too arrogant and had to fall eventually.
In 1975, he was arrested at his mansion in Mexico City's Pedregal colony, but a year later he escaped by digging tunnels. His escape method was successfully imitated by later generations, even borrowed by Hong Kong films.
This fully illustrated a principle.
Mexican soil was very suitable for digging holes.
Seeing the other not answer his question, Falcon's face obviously showed annoyance. Just as he was about to scold this rule-ignorant little police officer, he heard him say, "What kind of talk is that?"
Victor smiled and leaned against his cell door, "That's just a mad dog locked in a cage. The most important thing about being out here is understanding - don't act arrogant on territory that isn't yours. I have one principle: if people are polite to me, I'm polite to them. But if they don't respect me."
His smile disappeared, and the whites below his pupils were clearly visible, "Here, I'm the police officer and he's the prisoner! I'll make him understand that killing him is as simple as slaughtering a dog."
Falcon was amused by his words, "It's been a long time since anyone spoke to me like this."
"You've been locked up here for 13 years. Times have changed, old man. Still trying to put on airs with me? If you're capable, dig another tunnel and get out. Let's see who dies first - you or me. What are you pretending for?"
With Falcon's status, he'd definitely be killed if he got out. He started from Tijuana - see if the Benjamin and Ramón brothers would let him retire peacefully.
He understood too that this world no longer belonged to him. Even though he was once one of the most powerful people, the underworld was about new waves pushing out old ones. You could tell from his treatment in prison.
No one outside sent him money. In Mexican prison, he lived worse than a dog.
He seemed to have no backing.
Victor looked at him unkindly. Should he slip the warden some money to transfer him out? Then pop a couple shots - these million-plus points would be enough for him to be arrogant for a while.
Falcon wanted to curse, but seeing that look, he swallowed it all back and sat on his bed with a dark face.
"Be honest and don't cause trouble for yourself."
Victor knocked the cell bars with his baton and continued walking deeper.
Actually, if it were earlier years, Falcon might have been a good thigh to hug, but now... just bones in a tomb.
People without utility value only faced death.
The third block held not only drug lords but also government officials. When the Guadalajara Group collapsed, many unlucky guys were locked up here. Some were even Victor's superiors.
Finally, in the cell marked "A11," Victor found his target. The man's thin, shriveled face wore a barely perceptible coldness, his grave eyes seeming able to penetrate your inner defenses.
His sinister expression inevitably made one feel uneasy, making one wonder who in this world could truly predict his inner thoughts.
Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo!
Born to a poor family in a small Sinaloa mountain village, he was a state police officer at 17 and later a governor's personal bodyguard, but the salary was too low. In the 1970s, he joined "Lion of Sinaloa" Avilés, using his connections to provide protection for the drug trafficking group.
In 1978, Avilés died in a drug bust. There were rumors Gallardo betrayed his boss. Regardless, he became the leader. Unlike his predecessor who stuck to small territories, he had big ambitions and bigger vision, understanding the principle of developing in big cities.
He moved the organization to the second-largest city, Guadalajara. Thus was born a super drug trafficking organization that dominated the 1980s, monopolized the American market, and earned $8 billion annually.
His original "plaza system" gathered all drug lords.
What was the plaza system?
Drug lords purchased permits from police in various regions to operate drug businesses. Anyone wanting to do business in that area had to get permission from that plaza boss.
This fully entangled officials and drugs together.
The protective umbrella continued expanding.
In 1981, Reagan took office and increased crackdowns on drug smuggling, blocking Colombian drug lords' transportation routes through the Caribbean. Gallardo contacted Colombia's two major drug organizations, Medellín and Cali, through intermediaries. Both sides hit it off.
Colombians airlifted cocaine to Mexico, and Gallardo delivered it to American warehouses via land routes within a week. At its peak, the California National Guard also served as part of the transportation line.
During the 1985 Camarena incident, he sold out technician Quintero and connections boss Donnetto, paying more protection money to narrowly escape. But what doomed him was that in the late 1980s, during a routine inspection, the US DEA discovered over $7 billion worth of drugs at a Sylmar, California warehouse.
Ironically, the most secure thing about this warehouse was a $6 lock.
This was the largest single drug seizure in the world, a record that still stands.
$7 billion was Cali Group merchandise that Gallardo was responsible for transporting and had to compensate for, or did you think getting half the goods was easy?
Colombians wouldn't pursue legal channels with you.
His protective umbrella, the Defense Minister, immediately abandoned Gallardo. In an instant, he became a stray dog. This illustrated a principle.
If gloves get dirty, change them. If power gets dirty, it's truly dirty.
This was one reason Victor was reluctant to take off his "police uniform."
Politics was the biggest "justification" in this world. Maybe drug lords could bribe police to kill congressmen, but if you became president, you could declare greater benefits for yourself.
After fighting so long, Mexican drug dealers still didn't understand the principle of "justified cause," simply using violence to solve problems.
After all, they were nouveau riche. The third block took special care guarding him. Besides necessary cameras, even his door had two locks. His bed was covered with dollars - this was his hobby.
Sitting at the head of his bed watching TV, perhaps understanding his current situation, Gallardo's expression wasn't good.
Victor stood at the door, glanced at the surveillance, and didn't talk to Gallardo. What was your status now? What was his status?
He usually visited high official residences, meeting governors or mayors.
Now a small prison guard going up and saying, "I want to hug your thigh"?
He wouldn't think much of you.
Looks like he needed to "create" some opportunities.
Victor looked at him deeply, turned and left. Hearing footsteps, Gallardo turned his head and just saw a retreating figure.
Walking back to his office, just as he was about to open the door, he suddenly remembered he hadn't patrolled the armory yet. He'd just walked back two steps when suddenly a huge explosion accompanied by a shockwave "threw" him out. He rolled twice on the ground, leaned against the wall, gasping heavily.
Flames roared from inside the office. The iron door was blown away, lying twisted to one side. The sound was very loud, instantly setting off alarms throughout the third block, then the entire prison.
A bomb!
Fuck!
Someone wanted to blow him up.
Colleagues screamed and rushed out. Some carried fire extinguishers, others fled in panic. The entire floor was in chaos.
...
The fire was quickly extinguished.
Victor sat on the steps of the landscaped area downstairs, smoking, both hands trembling slightly.
Honestly, who the hell wouldn't be scared?
His ears were still ringing.
"Victor."
Casare anxiously ran over, supporting his shoulders and carefully looking him over. "How are you? Need to go to the hospital?"
This was his God of Wealth. If he died like this, where would he make money?
"Someone wants to kill me."
Victor took a deep breath, pinching his cigarette between thumb and forefinger, tilting his head back slightly to blow smoke. "Can't go to the hospital."
He looked around and lowered his voice, "And there's definitely an inside man in the block, or how did this bomb get in?"
"Who do you think it is?" Casare asked quietly, equally nervous.
Victor's gaze swept over his colleagues when he suddenly saw Anna glance at him from the corner of her eye. When she saw him looking, she was obviously very flustered and turned her head away, hugging and comforting a colleague beside her.
This bitch was problematic.
Victor was very petty. If you offended him, he wouldn't let you last the night. Anna definitely knew something!
He nodded slightly. Casare looked in that direction, "Anna?"
"You know her?"
"I know all the women in psychological intervention. I've wanted to get them for a long time."
Victor almost laughed angrily hearing this, covering his chest and coughing twice.
"I've checked all their files. This Anna has a brother, a college student, but reportedly also a hoodlum."
"Have Best investigate thoroughly. I want to know who wants my life!"