Alejandro walked wearily into his office and casually threw his briefcase on the sofa.
He'd been mentally exhausted lately. Because of the last incident, his wife and daughter had been having nightmares frequently at night. He hated that police sergeant named Victor Carlos Vieri!
It wasn't that he hadn't thought of finding someone.
But what tough guys did he know?
Being a police officer in Mexico had the lowest status. If drug dealers respected you, they'd give you some pocket money monthly. If they didn't respect you, if you couldn't distinguish between big and small kings, you might not see tomorrow's sun.
In 1987 alone, Mexico sacrificed over 700 police officers, with about 17 police stations openly attacked by drug dealers.
In peaceful regions where government institutions had strong deterrent power, drug dealers seeing police were like mice seeing cats.
In Mexico...
Police weren't even as good as dogs raised by drug dealers.
Most importantly, after the 1985 Camarena incident, police force leadership was almost completely wiped out.
America was scared half to death - brother, you're dealing drugs in the government.
This further damaged the Mexican police image.
Not being stoned while walking on the street was already pretty good.
Alejandro shook his head, put some black tea leaves in his cup, was about to get up to pour water when he heard knocking. Looking up, he saw two unfamiliar men standing at the door.
"Who are you looking for?"
"We're looking for you." The leading man took off his gloves and extended his hand, "Good morning, Director Alejandro. I'm Victor Carlos Vieri."
Clang.
Alejandro's teacup fell directly to the ground, glass shattering everywhere. Water rolled to his feet, scalding him and making him jump. He grabbed a nearby broom to sweep the glass shards.
Someone pressed his hand down. A big face came close, smiling, "Leave this to me."
"Leave it to Casare. Director, won't you invite me to sit?"
Alejandro looked at him, his eye corner twitching slightly. How could he forget this name? What was he doing here?
He tilted his chin slightly, "Please sit."
Alejandro pulled out tissue from his desk and pressed it to the scalded area on his hand, "That matter wasn't my initiative."
"I know, it's all a misunderstanding. I apologize too. When I was suspended, I complained to friends. They were kind and stood up for me. Your wife and daughter weren't frightened, were they?"
Friends?
Your friends are really... really wild.
Drawing guns and going to people's homes to demand explanations at the slightest disagreement.
Victor pulled out an envelope from his pocket, about two fingers thick, and placed it in front of him, "This is their apology. I've educated them - how can you use knives and guns against high-ranking police personnel like you? You have to be reasonable. They recognize their mistake. This is the mental distress compensation they asked me to bring you."
Alejandro, rich in "experience," could tell by sight how much money was inside. Though the other's words were nonsense, it still made him feel somewhat better.
Alejandro knew this was Victor offering him a way out, and he took it, "It's fine, it's fine. I understand. But try to be more peaceful in the future."
"Of course, we're all educated people."
Casare, who was sweeping, was stunned hearing this.
Educated?
You couldn't even make a blood pressure reading combining both of them.
"I came here for two reasons - first to apologize, second because there's something good I want to discuss with you." Victor coughed. Alejandro immediately understood, stood at the door, and asked colleagues to bring two cups of water.
"My friends discovered the perpetrators of the Tepito district shooting. They believe such people have strong antisocial personalities and should be brought to justice. They found me. I can catch these people, but the help provided to me is very limited. I want to ask Director Alejandro, are you interested?"
"Perhaps you could use this achievement to promote to Chief Superintendent and transfer from this position?"
The Prison Management Bureau was just a secondary unit where the highest rank was Inspector Chief (Senior Superintendent) - essentially exile.
"Sir, you don't want to retire here, do you? You're only 45, still far from retirement. Want to gamble?"
Alejandro's first thought was this guy was deceiving him.
Who wouldn't keep good benefits for themselves rather than introduce them to others?
"Of course, my demands aren't high. Help me and Casare get promoted - I want to become deputy warden of Altiplano Prison, he'll head the second block. This small request shouldn't be difficult for you, right?" Victor pointed at both of them.
Alejandro frowned. If nothing unexpected happened, he'd reach Senior Superintendent for life. Climbing higher wasn't easy. But he hesitated about this sweet fruit offered to his mouth, saying directly, "Why are you looking for me?"
Of course because I know where your house is, dummy.
But this couldn't be said openly.
Victor sat up straight and smiled, "Of course because I think you're different from other police officers. You have a strong sense of justice."
Praising people always meant praising what others didn't have.
Just like approaching someone on the street - you couldn't just say women were beautiful, that was too broad. You had to say her butt was big to leave a deep impression.
"Sir, you don't need to contribute anything. Leave everything to us. I'll even arrange reporters to record everything comprehensively for you. This achievement will definitely be attributed to you."
Alejandro thought carefully for a moment. He was indeed tempted, "Alright! As long as I become Chief Superintendent, the first thing I'll do is appoint you deputy warden. Even if you want to get rid of Webster, I'll help you."
"Pleasant cooperation!"
Victor snapped his fingers. Casare beside him presented a gift box with both hands, "This is my meeting gift for you."
Alejandro opened the gift box and saw an amber gun about 5 centimeters long inside. His eyes were immediately drawn to it.
Mexicans were quite enthusiastic about jade stones.
"This is too valuable."
"Our friendship is more valuable than anything, Alejandro."
Gift-giving worked in any country.
The director who received the gift even invited both of them to stay for lunch - in the cafeteria of course, but he brought out his treasured red wine.
When leaving the Prison Management Bureau, Victor's face was flushed red, with Casare supporting him.
After walking a few hundred meters, Victor looked back, then let go of Casare's hand and pulled out a cigarette.
"You weren't drunk!"
"At drinking tables you have to act, or how could you let the leader get drunk first?" Victor patted confused Casare's shoulder and smiled.
The young police officer immediately felt he wasn't sophisticated enough. Human relations could work this way?
Getting in the car, Victor blew out a smoke ring, "Is everything arranged?"
"Found six people, all from emergency teams, very close to me. I had someone deliver an anonymous report letter to Sanborn at the hospital. Tomorrow at eight, I arranged to meet Dragan at the market outside the prison, telling him to bring weapons for free maintenance."
"What about reporters?"
"Also arranged. Found a tabloid reporter. I told him to sit in the market from 7 AM until noon for 200 pesos. He agreed."
"Should we have Best find some gang members to send people?" Casare suddenly asked.
Victor's eyelid twitched, "Police doing business - what do we need gang members for?" Glancing at driving Casare, he continued,
Those people couldn't make it to the big stage.
What future could police who always dealt with gangs have?
Might as well resign.
Only very low-level police personnel called gang members brothers.
...
Brothers, it's not worth it!!!!
(End of Chapter)
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