If you asked who was most concerned about the situation on Guadalupe Island, it would probably be the Tijuana Cartel and some corrupt officials.
Mexicali!
Capital of Baja California state.
Governor's office.
Rafael Max looked at the stacks of US dollars piled on the coffee table in front of him, couldn't help swallowing.
"Governor Max."
Sitting across from him was a man with somewhat messy hair, wearing a yellow spotted shirt. Even indoors, he wore sunglasses, legs crossed.
What a fucking show-off!
He called out, and Max reluctantly shifted his gaze, looking up at the man with a fawning expression, "Mr. Ramón, whatever you need, just say it directly. Our relationship doesn't need such courtesy."
Ramón Arellano smiled, "As long as you like it, Governor. We at Tijuana Group don't lack money, but we really hate trouble."
Max's expression shifted, "You mean Victor?"
Ramón nodded, "His actions on Guadalupe Island have seriously harmed our interests. You know, without us, American addicts would seriously affect local security."
"You mean?"
"Kill Victor..."
Max gave an awkward laugh, "You should have more experience killing police chiefs than me."
Ramón couldn't respond to this - if we could get people onto Guadalupe Island, would we need you?
Word from above was they'd been beaten to shit.
Tijuana was currently at war with Sinaloa, both sides evenly matched, temporarily unable to spare more manpower. Anyway, the governor was one of their own - give some money and have him figure it out.
Seeing Max's expression, Ramón understood. He signaled a subordinate, who pulled another bundle of cash from his briefcase, continuing to stack it up.
Drug dealers loved these "superficial" gestures, but they understood these corrupt officials' weakness too well - wasn't it just money? Drug trafficking groups had plenty of that.
In the 1980s, the Medellín Group earned $180 million daily - daily - from America. How could you spend all that money? Though this also proved a point - so much cash flow going out, and not paying taxes, no wonder Americans wanted to kill you.
Not afraid you want too much, only afraid you want nothing.
Sure enough, once Max saw the money was "enough," his face creased with smiles, "I can't directly kill Victor, but Guadalupe Island still belongs to Baja California state. In a couple days I'll have him come back for a security department meeting. You figure out how to kill him on the road."
Ramón frowned. He was a crude man who preferred directness, but understood that having a governor personally shoot a subordinate was obviously impossible, "You guarantee he'll come?"
"If he still wants a career in government, and I have the authority to propose replacing a Guadalupe Island chief."
"I'll have someone contact him soon."
Ramón nodded, raising his wine glass with a smile.
...
"Go to Mexicali for a meeting? Go fuck yourself."
Victor put down his teacup, "Those bastards stick up their asses and I know what they want. Want a meeting? Fine, have him come here. I've got plenty of space - he can meet however he wants."
"I think this is a trap. Rafael Max's reputation isn't great. When I was in Mexico City I heard his name - supposedly he's involved in Tijuana's drug business."
"Drug dealing? I'll find a chance to kill him too sooner or later!"
"I want to see if he'll still talk about meetings when a gun's to his head."
Casare hesitated, "What if he sends a new mayor or chief to replace you..."
"Buddy, there are many accidents in this world you simply can't avoid. Guadalupe Island is 260 kilometers from the nearest shore at minimum. You can't predict when waves will come, right?"
"Superiors aren't superiors because they originally were, but because I acknowledge them!"
Casare understood Victor's meaning.
Pacific great white sharks were eating really well lately.
Knock knock knock~
Knocking sounded. An officer opened the door, "Boss, there's a kid downstairs looking for you."
"Kid?"
Victor frowned, "Let's go see."
Police station main hall.
It had been cleaned up, except for bullet holes in the walls.
Santos carried a cloth bag, leaning on the counter, watching an officer loading a gun, his small legs kicking against the counter to keep from sliding down.
"Hermano mayor (Big brother), what's this gun called?"
The officer looked up at the child's curious eyes, his heart softening, "CZ75 pistol."
"So cool~" Santos sighed admiringly, "When I grow up and join the police, can I get this kind of weapon?"
"Why do you want to be a police officer?"
"To uphold justice, of course!"
His voice wasn't small - nearby officers all heard.
"Uphold justice?"
Santos nodded, eyes shining, "Just like you all, protecting Guadalupe Island's safety. I want to protect mama, Uncle López, Tanist, Pedro..."
He even started counting on his fingers.
"I want to become a real man, just like my father!"
The gun-cleaning officer: "Where's your father?"
Santos's smile froze, looking a bit dejected, "He was killed by drug dealers, but he also killed 3 drug dealers!"
As he said this, pride flashed across his face again.
This left the officer at a loss, not knowing how to comfort him.
"Your father was a hero." A voice came from behind Santos. He quickly turned around and saw a familiar face.
"Mr. Victor!" Santos shouted excitedly.
"Very impressive young man."
Victor smiled and patted his head, "But to become a hero you still need to work hard. You need to grow tall and strong to have the strength to defeat drug dealers."
Santos nodded excitedly, looking around, "Mr. Victor, I have something to tell you."
Victor naturally bent down his ear as the other whispered beside him, "I discovered someone hiding drugs in the church."
"How do you know?"
"I overheard it. People next to my house transport goods for drug dealers. I'm a kid, so they don't pay attention."
Victor thought carefully - these drug dealers couldn't hold out. If goods couldn't get out, they'd rot in their hands, and they couldn't bear that loss.
Do drugs have expiration dates?
"Very good, young man. What reward do you want?" Victor asked with a smile.
"Can I become your officer in the future? Sir!"
Santos excitedly raised his hand like a fanatical little fan, "Fight alongside you for Mexico's anti-drug cause for life!"
Victor saw love for his homeland in those small eyes.
No matter how bad a place was, there would always be people who deeply loved it. If there weren't, that land was destined to perish.
Victor patted Santos's hand.
Clap!
"Then you'll definitely be the bravest officer, Mr. Santos."
This address made the child smile brilliantly.
(End of Chapter)
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