"Altiplano Prison Riot Occurs! Causes 17 Prisoner and 3 Guard Deaths"
"Mexican Security Department Head Confirms: Altiplano Prison Riot Has Caused 21 Deaths, 17 Injuries, 7 Missing."
Slap!
"Complete nonsense."
Victor threw the newspaper on the table and cursed, saying to Best beside him, "These tabloids just love to write randomly. The numbers don't even match up, and they even say missing. Do these idiots think I ate them?"
However, these Mexican tabloids' information channels were quite sensitive.
Ring ring ring~
The landline on the desk rang like a death knell. Victor, who was about to drink water, had to put down his cup and answer the phone, "Hello?"
It was Alejandro calling.
"Victor, is work going smoothly?"
"Very smoothly, sir!"
The other end hummed, "I heard the prison has been making quite a commotion lately. Webster even came to me to complain. He says you don't treat prisoners as human beings, are very harsh, and thinks you have mental problems."
Hearing this, Victor laughed and sat back in his leather chair, "Sir, don't you know what kind of person I am? When people in prison aren't honest, I have to educate them. Some with poor health died of illness themselves. I have doctors' records here."
"That old guy Webster, I think his brain must be addled. Don't worry, I'll go ask him later if he's been too comfortable lately."
Victor spoke very calmly, as if he were the warden.
Alejandro helplessly rubbed his nose bridge, "Victor, in a couple days the higher-ups will meet with me. I hope you don't cause trouble at this time."
"Don't worry, if you get promoted I benefit too, right?"
I'm a man who worries about your future more than your father would.
After he got promoted, Victor planned to seek a bureau chief position externally. In prison he could only be arrogant in this one small area - frankly speaking, power couldn't extend outward.
What use was being awesome while trapped in a corner?
Prison management was just these prisoners, while an externally appointed bureau chief with real power managed tens of thousands of people. Could they compare?
The difference between Keeper of Horses and Livestock Station Director.
Victor slammed down the phone heavily, squinting at Best, "That old bastard is really fucking tired of living! I haven't bothered him, yet he goes and reports on me."
"Want to give him some color to see? Kill him early so you can take over." Best spoke bluntly.
Victor thought carefully. Keeping this old turtle around was also unpleasant to look at. Just as he was about to agree, he heard knocking.
Casare walked in, face grave, "Boss, something happened."
...
Prison yard.
Many guards surrounded the area, whispering to each other quietly, accompanied by shrill cries.
"Make way, make way, what are you all crowding around for? Inspector Victor is here." Casare shouted. The watching guards automatically made a path.
Victor frowned and saw two female corpses tied up, faces twisted, wounds covered in blood, eyeballs gouged out. One older woman had her fingers chopped off.
The younger woman's mouth was half open, tongue gone!
Completely naked, skin covered with burns from unknown liquids.
Obviously tortured extensively before death.
"This morning a van came and dumped them at the prison entrance. These two are Franz's wife and mother." Casare pointed at a police corporal kneeling nearby. He looked very young, ashen-faced, completely drained.
"He and his wife were married less than a month ago."
"This is revenge." Best said from the side, looking at Victor, "Definitely targeting us."
"Boss, if this isn't handled well, I'm afraid..." Casare stood beside him and whispered a few words. Victor's gaze swept over the watching guards nearby - their eyes were evasive.
They had relatives and friends.
This method was too brutal.
Honestly, they were scared.
Mexican drug trafficking groups' methods were like this - if I kill you, I kill your whole family first.
In January 1981, the new mayor of Ensenada, Baja California took office. His first task was to declare drug prohibition. Eight hours later, his body was found by the coast, shot multiple times. At his funeral, local criminal organization Tequila raided the scene, causing 17 deaths.
In February the same year, Michoacán capital Morelia security department chief Jacobo Junior disappeared with his wife and daughter while playing at an amusement park.
Seven hours later, body parts were found in the amusement park restroom.
He had been a member of the anti-drug organization while alive.
Mexican drug dealers used very "conspicuous" methods to stimulate law enforcement nerves, constantly "warning" them to stay calm in Mexico and not ruin their good business.
Victor looked at the surrounding guards, "I have nothing to say. I just know - a life for a life!"
"Call the emergency team to the auditorium. I have something to tell them."
Casare nodded and hurried to call them.
Victor glanced at the corpses on the ground, turned and walked away with a dark face. Best could feel the anger accumulating in him.
When he reached the auditorium, the emergency team had already arrived. Everyone stood quietly. Victor walked onto the platform, with the Mexican coat of arms overhead, heavily slapping the table with both hands, "Those dog bastards have angered me. I'm unhappy, so let's all die together!"
"The best way to deal with criminals is always to make them shut up."
"1,000 pesos per person, 500 pesos if dead! Anyone willing to do it?"
Victor planned to use direct "bounty" methods to make Mexico City chaotic!
Don't you like jumping around?
Then let's see who has the more ruthless methods!
If you retreat even one step, Mexican drug dealers will arrogantly overturn even your last bit of territory.
"Tell those bastards - want my life? Come take it!"
"I'll count to three. Those unwilling can leave."
"One!"
Emergency team guards looked at each other. Many showed hesitation.
"Two!"
A short guy in the front row ran off directly. This was like dominoes - seeing someone run, many others followed out.
Suddenly more than half were gone.
"Three!"
When the final number was called, less than 40 people remained.
You can't force everyone to be fearless. The first emotion humans learn naturally is fear.
"Very good. Go find Casare for weapons later. Tomorrow bring ears to find me. Whoever performs best, I'll promote as block supervisor!"
Those who stayed were bold. Talking to them about dedication and revenge was useless - after all, it wasn't their own family who died. You had to talk about interests.
There would always be people willing to take risks.
Mexicans were most practical.
After 1993 when the government bankrupted the entire country over the grain bill, even 500 pesos could get people to do things. Oh right, the exchange rate then was about 17 pesos to 1 dollar.
"Dismissed!"
After everyone followed Casare to get weapons, the auditorium was suddenly empty.
"Any way to know who did it?"
Best frowned and shook his head, "I don't know, but I can ask around."
"Find them!"
"I want Jesus to convert them!!"
...
Mexico's evening was a bit cooler.
Winter was coming...
Even horny male dogs had moved their activities to cars.
In a secluded spot on Calle Calamar (Squid Street), a black Santana was swaying left and right. You could even hear particularly light yet heavy breathing.
Obviously...
Doing improper things.
A motorcycle slowly approached with two men on it. They stopped when passing the Santana.
The car window opened, revealing a shirtless man inside who pointed and cursed, "What are you looking at? Never seen people having sex? Go watch your mom and dad!"
The woman beside him wrapped in a blanket also laughed.
The man on the back of the motorcycle raised his hand holding a grenade, lightly flicked the pin with his thumb, and threw it through the window under the terrified gaze of the two in the car.
The motorcycle sped away.
Boom!
Even the car roof was blown off.
Raging flames instantly engulfed the car.
The two people died quite smoothly, without even a scream.
This wasn't an isolated case.
In just one hour after nightfall, over 20 explosion cases occurred in Mexico City's northern districts!
Police station phones were overwhelmed.
But late at night, which police dared come out? Default assumption: gang revenge killing.
In Mexico's nights, even Jesus had to wear a bulletproof vest.
...
Los Insurgentes (Rebels) Bar.
Located in the Polanco district, relatively wealthy, a famous money pit. Many foreign tourists also loved coming here, so it was very lively at night.
Victor entered with Best, Casare, and three guards in plain clothes. He immediately saw adult performances on the central stage.
Men were celebrating wildly below, women were screaming.
What a scene of debauchery.
Casare was naturally lustful, staring intently several times, his Adam's apple bobbing, but he understood they were here on business.
"You're sure the person we're looking for is here?" Casare asked.
"Wilbert loves drinking. If you can't find him, try two places - bars and funeral homes."
Best let a drunk pass by and continued telling everyone, "Most importantly, he's bisexual, eats both men and women, so best stay away from him."
"His information is broader than mine, his informants more widespread. Some gangs like asking him for intelligence. Reportedly, he holds a list with addresses of all relatives and friends of high-level government officials."
Walking to Room 203, Best looked through the door glass and immediately saw Wilbert sitting in the middle with women on both sides. He had two guards stand at the door while he pushed open the door and walked straight in.
The sudden intrusion clearly startled the celebrating Wilbert. After seeing who came, his eyes lit up, staring at Victor, "Hey! Best, long time no see. I thought you'd been killed."
"My life will definitely be longer than yours." Best glanced at Casare, then said to Wilbert, "I want to ask you something."
"No time today. I still need to accompany my babies singing." Wilbert hugged and kissed the women on both sides.
"I know your rules."
Best pulled out dollars from his pocket and handed them over. Wilbert looked at the money in his hands, eyes shining, but didn't reach out, looking him up and down, "Looks like you've been doing well lately."
"That's none of your business. When doing business, don't you look at money instead of background?"
"What do you want to know?"
"Who dumped the corpses at Altiplano Prison this morning."
Hearing this inquiry, Wilbert looked at him in surprise, then as if thinking of something, his gaze fixed on Victor.
"I know who you are now!"
"Wilbert!" Best suddenly interrupted, warning, "You'd better not say it. That's not according to rules."
Wilbert laughed, "Fine! I follow rules. $10,000, and I guarantee not to call out your name while telling you who the killer is."
"$10,000!? Did you stuff dog shit in your mouth? Such big words?" Casare cursed.
Wilbert ignored him, just staring at Victor, "I think you'll satisfy my demand, or if I shout once, you'll have trouble leaving this place."
Victor looked at him and smiled.
"Are you threatening me?"
"Not really, this is just a condition... Ahhhh!!!!!!"
Before Wilbert could finish, Victor grabbed a wine bottle from the table and smashed it on his head.
"Fuck!! $10,000? You want my money, I want your life!"
...
(End of Chapter)
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