The island's weather changed at a moment's notice.
The sky was dim and overcast, with rain pouring down like an overturned bucket.
Believers sat scattered throughout the church.
Even with police and drug dealers fighting fiercely, they still had to attend mass. Mexico was about 89% Catholic, and even someone as powerful as Guzmán in 1993 was forced to flee to Guatemala after a cardinal was killed in a gunfight.
In Guatemala, he spent $1.2 million bribing an official, hoping for protection.
But the official took the money and immediately sold him out.
This was the beginning of Guzmán's imprisonment.
The day the cardinal died, Mexican national media broadcast Guzmán's photo on loop, and citizens protested in the streets. For Mexico's weak populace to rise in resistance showed this incident had gone too far.
"God said, He will eventually return to earth..." The priest on the platform read from the Bible when suddenly there was a bang - the door was violently pushed open from outside.
Everyone instinctively looked toward the entrance.
They saw a team of armed personnel in all black with face masks and weapons charging in, with "Policía" (Police) written on their left arm positions!
The priest's eyebrow twitched. He put down the Bible and walked over quickly, "Officer, is there something wrong?"
"Routine inspection," Victor explained with a smile.
From his peripheral vision, the priest glimpsed the armored vehicle outside and the cannon barrel pointing horizontally. His mouth went bitter - you come to inspect with cannons?
"Officer, this is God's dwelling, what you're doing..."
"God? Does He break the law?"
This rhetorical question left the other somewhat at a loss. Looking at the flustered priest, Victor smiled and adjusted his Roman collar, "On Guadalupe Island, even God must follow the law."
"Search!" He waved his hand, and another group of uniformed officers rushed in from outside, beginning to search the church.
The priest anxiously stamped his feet beside them.
Though the believers felt this was disrespectful to God, seeing people with guns, they thought about it and kept their heads down.
"Chief, nothing behind the church."
"Chief, nothing in the bathroom auxiliaries either."
Victor squinted at the statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe before him - sacred, gentle, immaculate.
This Our Lady sharing the island's name had been the spiritual faith of Mexicans since spreading in the 16th century.
"Smash it!" Victor suddenly spoke.
This command stunned everyone!
Even many officers hesitated. Though it was almost the 21st century, while some disdained Catholic things, they still maintained basic "respect" inwardly, or rather fear of the mystical.
"No! Officer, this is desecration!" the priest said excitedly.
Nearby believers also boldly objected.
Victor looked deeply at the priest. In his eyes, no one could hide - this impassioned priest was a drug dealer.
With nearly 20 years of history, a member of local drug trafficking organizations, planted here.
Ordinary officers didn't dare act, but EDM people didn't care.
Whatever the boss said was law!
They brought a battering ram from the armored vehicle.
"God! Save your children..." The priest knelt on the ground crying out. This scene immediately stirred up the believers.
But under such firepower, they could only "compromise."
Seeing he couldn't incite the believers, the priest's face darkened. He spread his arms and stood before the statue.
"Do you want to be a martyr?" Victor drew his pistol, grinning, "I swear I won't shoot your face."
An EDM member went up and slapped the priest down, raising the hammer to smash.
Bang!
One hammer blow cracked the entire statue. Another blow.
The whole statue of Our Lady crashed down.
Victor stepped forward and rummaged through the ruins, pulling out a packaged transparent bag, "What's this?"
The priest immediately went limp and collapsed.
"Religious personnel harboring drugs - I see you're eager to meet God. Drag him out and shoot him!" Victor's voice suddenly rose.
EDM members grabbed the priest's hair and dragged him outside.
Whatever your identity, you're just a fucking drug dealer now!
And they didn't even bother with interrogation.
"You can't kill me! I'm clergy! Mexico has no death penalty! You can't kill me!" The priest's whole face became twisted from being dragged by his hair, but he still shouted loudly.
"Very sorry, priest. Guadalupe Island practices capital punishment," Victor said to Kennedy Heisenberg, "Use the M2 Browning heavy machine gun."
The priest was dragged out in a sorry state by the big man.
Soon they heard rat-a-tat-tat gunfire.
"Confiscate all these drugs. Seal the church. No one opens it without my permission."
...
Crash!
Alberto López Portillo's face was iron-gray as he overturned the table, fruit and tea spilling everywhere. He grabbed his subordinate's collar, "What did you say? Say it again!"
"The... church was sealed, our goods are gone."
Alberto was so angry he nearly rolled his eyes, "How did police know there were goods in the church?"
"Someone must have informed!"
This shipment was bound for California - American gangs had already paid deposits. If they didn't deliver, this channel would be cut off, and the losses would be even greater.
"Boss, we need to find replacement goods now. If the Original Bloods Family doesn't get their shipment, they..." The subordinate didn't finish his sentence.
But Alberto, having lived in America for years, naturally knew what he meant.
A black gang founded in Los Angeles in the 1970s had spread globally within just ten years. But because America's armed forces could control the situation, these gangs hadn't caused major incidents.
But occasional firefights still occurred.
The Bloods and Crips' decades-long feud had killed over 5,000 people.
But even fierce Colombians dealing drugs in America had to get local gang approval, or...
They'd learn what home field advantage meant.
Alberto sucked his teeth, frowning tightly, "Then divert goods meant for other American states to California first."
"I've lost at least $5 million! Damn it!"
"Boss, there's one more thing. After Victor's televised speech, many island residents seem restless," the subordinate said as diplomatically as possible. "The neighboring Treviño family - 'Skinny Dog' (Perro fino) Los was killed."
$1,000 was already making bold islanders take action.
This world never lacked "brave" people.
Alberto grew angrier thinking about it, viciously kicking the teacup on the floor. He turned around with sinister eyes, "These peasants think Victor's arrival means they can turn things around? Give them a proper lesson to make these lowly people understand that lasting victory will belong to us!"
"Boss, you mean?"
"Some people in Morelos district are getting too close to police. Show them what's what!"
(End of Chapter)
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