Outside Altiplano Prison.
Under an ice cream truck.
Ryan looked at the chocolate ice cream in his hand with a complex expression, "You like this kind?"
"How is it? Tastes amazing, right." Best licked his ice cream, glanced at Casare beside him and smiled, "This is what I most wanted to eat since childhood. To eat it, my siblings and I would pick through garbage, three people sharing one ice cream."
He was perhaps just fulfilling a childhood dream now.
Ryan nodded and complimented along, then handed over the briefcase in his hand, "All for buying bullets, I'll come get them later."
Best took it, his hand sinking from the weight, joking, "This is quite heavy. Don't want guns?"
"No need, just bullets. But today a subinspector came, they seem to be investigating the origin of AK-47s." Ryan recounted what happened today.
"What did you say that subinspector was called?"
"Danilo Sanborn."
Best immediately felt a headache, rubbing his forehead, "It's that mad dog."
"What? You know him?"
"He has some background. Pedro Avilés' stepson. A major drug lord's son who has to rent housing and even his girlfriend left him because she thought he was poor." Casare revealed more of his secrets.
"People offer him money and he won't take it, but he's very persistent about catching criminals. I've seen him before, when I was at Mexico City Police Department. I was interning then, and he'd bring back drug dealers almost every day. But he's also smart - basically doesn't touch major drug lords' people, or he'd be dead already."
"Later the chief got annoyed with him and wrote him an evaluation report to get him promoted."
Ryan found it incredible - Mexico actually had such people?
"He's like a dog. If he targets you, you have to pay some price." Best frowned.
"Then kill him?" Ryan said sinisterly.
"Wait, let me think." Suddenly, Casare called out.
Casare always wanted to use his subinspector status to make some reputation, "Isn't he investigating the Tepito district shooting case? We'll catch the perpetrator first."
"You really know the perpetrator?" Ryan glanced at him.
"I'm a police officer. Of course I know about criminals' affairs." Casare spoke very casually, having steeled his heart to make his aunt give birth again.
This kind of person was truly ruthless.
Tsk tsk tsk~
After finishing the ice cream, they parted ways.
Casare was now very prestigious. Entering and leaving prison didn't even require reports. Guards at the entrance would help open doors and ask with some flattery how he was doing.
Because he was Victor's man!
Before, people would avoid Victor if they could.
Now it was different. In prison he was the "God of Wealth." As long as you lacked money and needed to find him, even if he couldn't satisfy your "outrageous demands," he could still give you some meeting fees.
The best way to establish connections was to throw money at them.
Using time to grind was too tiring.
Best carried the briefcase up to the new office on the second floor, knocked on the door, and only pushed it open after someone inside responded, "Boss Victor, the money's here."
Victor held a copy of "One Hundred Years of Solitude."
You had to have some literary cultivation, right? If in future conversations you kept saying "damn" and "fuck you," how uncivilized would that be?
So-called high society - first you had to have money, then you had to know how to pretend. Even if you were lowly, you had to act deep and refined. Actually, they were all sanctimonious at heart.
"Exchange it all for bullets for him. We keep half the money, distribute the rest to heads of each block, give some to deputy wardens too." Victor said to Casare beside him.
The remaining half was over $24,000. Divided by headcount, each person got nearly $4,000.
Casare immediately felt heartache. This person was somewhat greedy, "Boss, giving so much?"
"What, reluctant now?" Hearing him say this, Victor turned to look at him, smiling as he asked.
Casare nodded, "Could give less."
Best also nodded beside him.
"Since we're giving, does this little bit matter? We who pursue official careers are different from those in gangs - we need to make lots of friends." Victor stood up, pulled out a cigarette, stuffed it in Casare's mouth, lit it for him, then continued.
"Taking money is too chaotic now. Webster doesn't understand what unity means. When drug lords give money, he just stuffs it hard into his pockets. Do you think subordinates have opinions about him?"
"If you eat the big portion, you have to let subordinates eat small portions. If you don't give everyone chances to get rich, how will they respect you? How will you get promoted?"
Casare thought this made sense, but still hesitantly raised questions, "But we can't keep paying this money forever."
"When my stripes become triangles and I become an Officer (Inspector), I can pull Webster down. We'll operate a bit and I'll act as warden. Then, first block prisoners pay 300 pesos monthly each, second block 500 pesos each, third block 20,000 each - they have money anyway. How much could we earn monthly?"
Victor touched his police rank, "We'll distribute this money throughout the prison by position. 5,000 prisoners supporting 1,000 of us police - when it really reaches that point, who'll run this prison?"
Casare's scalp tingled hearing this grand plan.
He had no idea how much money this would collect monthly, but if this "salary" system was really implemented, even if higher-ups parachuted in a warden, Victor would hollow him out.
Interests would be mutually bound together.
"Isn't this playing too big?"
"What? You're scared? I remember watching a TV show with a line like this: We either don't embezzle, or we embezzle big money. Don't be timid like before. Those going the same way go together; those going different ways can quickly get lost. Besides, we're not taking dirty money - this is called sanitation fees. Those bastards are imprisoned and we still mop floors and clean cells for them. Isn't it reasonable for them to pay some fees?"
This was called legal means.
Money - was there illegal money? Didn't it all come from Mexican banks?
"But promotion still depends on achievements, right?" Victor patted Casare's shoulder and asked.
Was this reminding him?
Casare frowned, then suddenly relaxed, "Boss, I think faced with righteous causes and family affection, I should choose the former. When can we arrest Dragan?"
Damn!
Indeed "righteous."
Casare was somewhat intoxicated by Victor's "grand blueprint" - wasn't it just achievements?
I'll sell out my cousin for you.
"Your aunt agreed?"
"She'll have another one." Casare said very confidently, then repeated what Ryan had said at the prison entrance to Victor, "I'll have someone follow Dragan. He can't escape."
"I can help your aunt." Best interjected.
"Well done. And you're right, we can't take this credit alone. Think about who we should find to share this cake with?"
"What do you think of Alejandro?" Casare thought and suggested a name, "But seems we just offended him. Don't know if this Prison Management Bureau director holds grudges."
"He's petty? This cake is big enough to expand his pettiness. Go find a few pleasing ones in prison, then go arrest Dragan together and mix in some achievements. Everyone gets promoted together."
Victor thought this candidate was quite good. If he got a piece and they operated a bit, maybe he could jump higher. Then he'd have backing and Mexico's New Generation would have better protection.
Dragging people into water - as long as interests were sufficient, they'd go in themselves.
Human greed never stops.
Casare nodded busily, already thinking of several targets in his mind who were usually close to him. He should give them a boost.
As for Dragan?
Sorry!!
Can only trouble you to leave a few decades early. Cousin will definitely treat aunt well, don't worry, won't make you sad.
Cousin me, I really want to advance too much.
"Then you contact your cousin, invite him to dinner, then anonymously report to Sanborn, then... let them die together."
Victor suddenly spoke from the side, appearing casual yet full of dirty scheming!
(End of Chapter)
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