Mexico City, Constitution Square.
This should be the safest place in Mexico.
Municipal institutions were all in this area, with military police patrolling everywhere, even tanks visible.
It wouldn't have been like this before 1985 - Pablo made everyone nervous. He directly confused all drug dealers worldwide.
Big fool, what are you doing!
Because the Supreme Court attack incident had such terrible impact, the Mexican government was afraid someone would copy it and raised security levels.
The Federal Preventive Police compound was also here. You could see many people coming and going. In a small building in the northwest corner was the Prison Management Bureau. Though looking weathered from outside, this was truly a lucrative department.
Carlos Alejandro stuffed stacks of dollars from his drawer into his briefcase - about $100,000. Zipping it up, he adjusted his attire in the mirror, nodded satisfactorily, and left his office.
This was just quitting time. Colleagues he met would respectfully call out, "Director."
Alejandro would respond warmly to all.
Getting in his car, looking at the cake and Barbie doll in the passenger seat, his face showed a gentle smile. Today was his daughter's 8th birthday. He'd turned down evening social events just to celebrate with her.
Home was only about 6 kilometers from work - a comfortable area. The environment here compared to slums was like heaven and hell.
Extreme wealth disparity was also a point of social conflict.
Parking the car, carrying gifts through the outer gate, using keys to open the door, he saw unfinished tea on the coffee table, cigarettes in the ashtray, toys on the floor. Alejandro threw his keys on the sofa and called, "Julia, Lucina~"
But no one answered. Something felt wrong. He drew his weapon from his waist holster and cautiously walked toward the dining room.
According to the "Mexico Survival Guide": If something's wrong, use RPG. Oh sorry, that was the Soviet guide.
Alejandro pushed open the dining room door and immediately saw his wife and daughter tied to chairs. Just as he wanted to rush over, a gun pressed against the back of his head. A man took his weapon, a low voice in his ear, "Don't be nervous, sir. Don't shout. I'm very timid. If you scare me, you might have to meet the Lord early."
"Don't shoot. The family's assets are in the safe upstairs. Password is 978478, with $200,000 inside. Take it all, just spare our lives." Alejandro was very calm.
Thinking he'd encountered robbers.
Such home invasion cases happened frequently, with odds like rape cases in India.
The man behind him threatened, "You don't want your head blown off, do you!"
This made his heart sink, many thoughts immediately floating through his mind. Was this some deputy director sending someone to kill him?
One position, one person - many had been eyeing the director's position.
Just as Alejandro was thinking how to respond, the man behind pushed him, crashing into the dining table. Ignoring the pain, he quickly turned to see two men.
The leader had a crew cut, eyes full of beast-like aggression, but the scars on his face were somewhat frightening. He smiled, "Let me introduce myself - Nuriel Best."
"Someone commissioned me to chat with you. Don't worry, just simple conversation."
Duke handed over a brick phone. Alejandro glanced at it, the other indicating with his eyes to answer.
Alejandro took a deep breath. His hands were shaking, but he tried to steady himself as much as possible. Having reached this position, what scenes hadn't he seen?
Though still afraid, he understood - the more afraid you are, the faster you die.
"Hello~"
A peaceful greeting came from the phone, "Good evening, Officer Alejandro. Sorry to disturb you at this time. My friends didn't harm you, did they? If so, I apologize for them."
"But speaking of which, I didn't offend you, did I? You suspended me so I have no food. Should I eat at your house? Do you know you smashed my rice bowl? I can't sleep from anxiety every night. Damn you, I'm losing hair all night."
The voice suddenly got loud, startling Alejandro.
"Who are you?"
"Didn't I say? Alright, I'm Victor Carlos Vieri, Altiplano Prison Third Block Police Sergeant, sir! Remember now?"
He remembered. He'd thought the name Vieri had some Italian style - it was a suspension report from Altiplano Prison. Since Webster often sent him gifts, he thought he'd give face and signed it.
Damn!
Never expected such trouble to arise.
"Sir, I just want to be a police officer. That's my dream. You won't be so unsympathetic, will you?"
Alejandro naturally followed his words, "No, no. Tomorrow - no, I'll have someone lift the suspension report right away."
Victor on the other end was very satisfied, "Thank you, sir. By the way, how much money does it take to get the warden position?"
This jumping question directly confused Alejandro, stammering without knowing how to answer.
"Haha, just joking, sir. Wish you a pleasant evening."
Alejandro looked up at Best, "He hung up..."
The latter took the phone, handed it to Duke, looked at the little girl's outfit, put away his gun, and pulled out a stack of dollars wrapped in plastic from his jacket, throwing it on the dining table, "Don't worry, we won't let you work for nothing. Here's $10,000. You'd better not interfere in matters between us and Webster."
"You wouldn't want this to be your daughter's last birthday, would you."
Best even straightened his clothes, giving advice, "Officer, when going out, remember to wear a bulletproof vest."
After saying this, he patted his face, smiled, and left with Duke.
Alejandro watched them leave. The breath supporting him immediately deflated, his legs somewhat weak. He quickly ran over to untie his wife and daughter, holding them and comforting them.
Most Mexicans were pragmatic - those who understood the times were wise.
What about those who really didn't listen?
Heh heh heh...
Guzmán once had someone fire shots at campaign personnel at a presidential campaign site.
Arrogance was also a Mexican label.
...
Prison dormitory.
Seeing Victor hang up, Casare looked at him hopefully, "How was it? Did he agree?"
"No one can speak objections under gunpoint."
"Send him $10,000 every month from now on. I want him to take my money so he can't easily escape." Victor tapped his cigarette lightly on the armrest, squinting.
"Can we talk to him about external assignment then?" Casare asked quietly.
Victor had shared part of his future plans with him. He was very interested in external assignment as a regional bureau chief.
Mexican police stations often recruited "police auxiliary personnel" due to insufficient manpower, which provided wide operational scope.
Local finances wouldn't support it because they wanted to embezzle.
But if you had your own money, you could pull together a team.
Around the millennium, many drug trafficking organizations did this - first push someone to bureau chief position, then use official status to absorb and whitewash some drug dealers. What for?
To borrow this title.
They could sweep drugs together with military police!
"Righteous" when facing competitors, but could be "inside agents" when facing their own operations.
Unexpected, right? Mexican drug lords' minds worked very well.
They understood what it meant to use tiger skin as banner.
Victor defined Best as a glove - a criminal organization. He would gradually transfer power to them in the future, becoming a stable behind-the-scenes figure.
How could police personnel collude with criminals!
Those "police auxiliary personnel" were his real foundation. They would assist him in fighting "evil," earning achievements, then using gained reputation to run for office!
His ambition was very large.
What future could a gang leader have?
Do you know who the world's biggest rogue is?
"Alejandro just manages prisons. Whether he has this power, most importantly I have no achievements. I need achievements to add another bar to my shoulder."
Victor appeared very calm, but Casare seemed very urgent.
"Achievements?" Hearing this, he raised his eyebrows, as if thinking of something, his expression suddenly tangled.
"Victor, what do you think of my cousin Dragan?"
Victor looked up at him, not initially knowing what he meant, but when their eyes met, he instantly understood.
This guy.
Wanted to sell out his cousin!!
(End of Chapter)
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