Mexicali!
In the governor's office.
After Rafael Max sent away Tijuana leader Ramón Arellano, he returned to his office and flew into a rage, overturning everything on his desk except the cash.
"What does Victor want to do!"
When summoned to come to Mexicali, Guadalupe Island Police Station Senior Assistant Casare Gonzales said this:
"Hemorrhoids burst, can't travel."
When the secretary relayed this to Rafael Max, the 57-year-old governor nearly retired early.
He still had principles - having taken Tijuana's money meant he had to work for them.
Most importantly... he feared death!
Ramón Arellano had just warned him that if Victor wasn't removed, Tijuana Group couldn't guarantee Rafael Max's daughter's safety in America.
This was a threat!
A governor being threatened by a drug trafficking group was rare in the world, but seeing it was Mexico, it seemed natural.
In 2019, within ten months, drug dealers shot and killed 48 presidential candidates, most of whom held high positions themselves.
Governor?
What was that worth?
They'd kill you if they said they would.
The exhausted governor sat in his chair, his mind working through methods. Politicians weren't good at violence, but they had many schemes.
He quickly thought of a solution.
Assign a mayor to Guadalupe Island who would naturally have authority over Victor by position and rank, then find an excuse to remove him from office.
This was a good plan!
But who to send?
Rafael Max drummed his fingers on the desk, calculating candidates in his mind.
The next day.
Victor had just settled in his office to begin work when Casare knocked and entered with a strange expression.
"Boss, the drug lords sent representatives wanting to talk with you."
Victor wiped down his desk with a napkin and threw it in the trash, "Did they say what about?"
Casare shook his head, "But it should be surrender - yesterday seemed to scare them."
To publicize battle results, Victor had officers drag the Portillo family key members' corpses (what could be pieced together) to several high-traffic communities for exhibition.
Piled up like dead dogs.
This brought considerable shock to civilians.
Bold ones even went to the Portillo family "ruins site" - probably what it should be called now - seeing not one good brick, dismembered limbs everywhere, heads still hanging on walls.
Even the beehive under the eaves was blown apart!
Two pet dogs also died.
Simply brutal to the extreme.
Privately, civilians and drug dealers already called him "Tirano (Tyrant!)"
"Bring them in."
Casare nodded, left the office, and soon returned with two big men. The leader was Warrior (Guerrero) Francisco.
His physique was quite imposing.
Victor glanced - no matter how big, one shot would drop him.
Brother, times had changed!
He sat in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, staring directly.
This expression made Francisco and his companion stiffen. Despite looking tough, he actually swallowed this insult, restraining his visibly unhappy companion, "Officer Victor, won't you invite us to sit?"
Hearing this, Victor laughed, "What's your status? What's mine? You think you're still bosses on Guadalupe Island? Coming here, standing and reporting to me is enough."
"What the fuck do you mean! Stinking cop!"
Francisco couldn't restrain his companion, who furiously tried to attack Victor. Police immediately rushed in from the doorway.
Victor waved his hand, signaling Kennedy and others not to be nervous, walked over, straightened the other's clothes, smiling, "Young people are impulsive, hot-tempered."
"Fuck your mother!"
He grabbed the other's hair, yanked hard, pulled out a folding knife from his pocket and stabbed viciously at his throat!
Seeing this, Francisco moved to rush forward.
"I warn you, don't move." Casare drew his gun, pointing at him. Francisco immediately stopped.
Victor's butterfly knife stabbed over ten times. Blood vessels in the throat spurted blood, splashing all over him.
The drug dealer stared wide-eyed, struggling desperately, hands still gripping Victor's clothes. The latter raised the knife and stabbed fiercely toward the other's eye - this should be the softest spot - but it stuck in bone.
After struggling for a while, he finally pulled out the butterfly knife.
Victor stood up, looked back at Francisco, who couldn't help swallowing seeing those eyes.
Victor forced a smile, using the butterfly knife to scrape blood clean on Francisco's clothes, "Too hot-tempered needs treatment."
Francisco glanced at his companion's corpse on the ground. The hole in the eye was disturbing.
"We came to negotiate," he said, forcing himself together.
"Negotiate? What qualifications do you have? I won, why should I negotiate? Not satisfied? Let's each call people and fight again, see if Jesus stands on your side. I tell you, on Guadalupe Island I'm the boss, Jesus is second!" Victor slapped the table, thumb pointing at himself.
"Either die on the island or get lost. Don't take weapons, take everything else. If you agree, I'll find you ships tomorrow. I'm done talking."
Victor's arrogance and audacity gave Francisco a headache. He'd never seen such a person.
Mexican politicians - no, police chiefs shouldn't even count as politicians - which one didn't take bribes and kickbacks, everyone getting along fine? Someone as actively anti-drug as Victor was absolutely unique.
People proposed fighting drugs, but who came with artillery?
Francisco: "I need to discuss with them."
Victor waved his hand, "If you can't decide, why come? Go discuss. Just 24 hours. If you don't give me an answer tomorrow, then war. I don't have much time to waste chattering here with you."
Francisco nodded, glancing at his companion's corpse. The man was dead - no point taking him back.
But reaching the doorway, he suddenly stopped, "Chief Victor, can I ask why you hate drug dealers so much? Won't you give us any way out?"
"We can give you half our profits!"
"I'm a police officer, not Jesus! If you want to make wishes, find a priest."
Which drug dealer didn't deserve death?
All should be mowed down!
"Scaring them isn't enough. Drug dealers are lions - they love charging up to bite you to death when you seem slack. But sorry, I'm a hunter. I prefer shooting them dead when I see them!" Victor said to Casare after watching him leave, eyes narrowed.
"Will they surrender?" Casare asked.
"When you lose the courage to resist, picking it up again isn't easy. If he surrenders, arrange them at the dock."
Victor paused, "More convenient when feeding fish!"
(End of Chapter)
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