Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 554: The protective umbrella of evil forces—Americans!

nine in the morning.

Very punctual.

Standing at the Port-au-Prince dock, you can see the fleet appearing on the sea level.

Five Whidbey Island-class landing ships and two large civilian transport ships were heading towards Port-au-Prince, accompanied by a Wasp-class amphibious assault ship and four Adelaide-class frigates.

I don’t know…

I thought the US military was coming.

All American equipment.

The keel of the Wasp-class amphibious assault ship was not laid until 1991. It rarely appears in military magazines and has not yet been put into service by the US military.

Victor gritted his teeth and spent 80 billion points to exchange for one ship, which is one of the reasons why he used up his points so quickly.

The points directly or indirectly gained from the "American National Parks Bombing" were also squandered in this way.

No one should suffer except the navy and the air force.

Army: Speak for me! Speak for me!
On the bridge of the Wasp-class amphibious assault ship "Duke Victor", Colonel Gunther Lütjens, commander of the 1st Marine Cavalry Division, looked gloomy and uncertain as he watched the American reconnaissance planes and fighter jets flying overhead.

"Turn on the fire control and shoot them!"

"If you want to fight, then fight. Don't buzz over my head. Tell them to get out of here. If they don't leave within three minutes, I'll launch anti-aircraft missiles directly."

Just tough.

The United States and Mexico now maintain a very delicate relationship, in which neither side fires the first shot, nor dares to fire the first shot.

The Mexican side has said more than once that if the United States is a protector of evil forces and a cesspool of the world, if they start a war, they will never have a chance to maneuver, and border guards will launch tens of thousands of missiles carrying "glyphosate" into Texas.

This thing…

It can cause agriculture to collapse in an instant.

What can this Texas farmer do?
Texas has about 24.75 farms, accounting for 7.6% of the total number of farms in the U.S., ranking first among all states. These farms cover more than 1.2 million acres of land, ranking first in the country in terms of cultivated area.

Mexico's economic lifeline is directly threatened, and it is also a Republican stronghold. The locals can only curse Victor and warn Washington, "Don't mess around. If you do, we will really mess around."

Since then…

Victor invented a military strategy, "Victor's Strategy", which means that if I can't deal with you, then I will let your people deal with you.

Along with Mussolini's Mohist thought and Adolf's Taoist thought, he is known as the "culmination of modern and contemporary thought."

Sure enough, as soon as the warship's fire control radar shone, the planes above dispersed one after another, and the entire sky suddenly became much empty.

Gunther Lütjens snorted twice, and it was unclear whether he was trying to express that the other party was a waste.

"Go ashore!"

Major Fritz Klingenberg, who was on the shore, was adjusting his uniform. When his superior came up, he trotted over and saluted, "Division Commander!"

"You did a good job and didn't embarrass me. I even had a huge argument with Army Commander Karl Dönitz over your future. I didn't misjudge you." Gunther Lütjens patted his beloved general on the shoulder and praised him.

The military staff officer next to him couldn't help but recall the scene of that day.

"Commander, I beg you, I kneel down for you, Commander, you must give Fritz to me, hehehe..."

The military staff officer shook his head vigorously, and his eyes became firm again. That's right!

The teacher slammed the table.

Gunther Lütjens looked at his watch. "Now all we have to do is meet with President Marc-Louis Bazin of Haiti."

"The direct battalion and the division's direct armored vehicle battalion, the first and second battalions of the first regiment will take a break for an hour and follow me to the Haitian official residence. The rest of you will stay at Port-Prince.

"Yes!"

Major Fritz Klingenberg stood at attention and quickly ordered the troops to prepare.

8.900 meters outside the Prince Port, Jimmy Cherizzier was chewing bread with a fierce look on his face, observing with a military-grade M151 target scope in front of him.

This thing…

When the American arms dealer sold it to him, he thought it was very interesting and used it as a toy. Now it is finally coming in handy.

“It’s the Mexicans coming!”

Hearing his words, all the younger brothers around him were a little surprised, and then there was an uproar.

His face showed fear and anger, but more of panic.

Even if Haiti is underdeveloped, it is close to the Caribbean Sea, Cuba, the United States, and Mexico, so it still knows what is happening.

Victor loves to eat people!
In particular, it is said that he likes to eat bad people, and likes to chop off the heads of drug dealers and gangsters, then coat them in flour and fry them in oil.

Haitians think he is Haitian.

Moreover, Mexico has carried out air strikes on Port-au-Prince gangs more than once.

They are even more frightening than the Americans.

They have suffered.

Jimmy Sherizier looked at his panicked younger brother with a dark look in his eyes and shouted, "What are you afraid of! This is Haiti, not Mexico. What if they have armored vehicles? I can still shoot them through!"

He said, patting the M16 in his hand.

M16: Brother, can you please not include me in your bragging?

Perhaps it was because his prestige was too high. When the younger brothers heard what Jimmy Sherizier said, they looked at each other and raised their hands to cheer.

Jimmy Sherizier nodded with satisfaction. He was a worldly man. He had been on the sea (pirate), been to jail, and then became a policeman. But he found out that he could only make so little money a month. What a waste.

After stealing weapons, he started doing it on his own and things got out of control.

The "G9 Gang Alliance" that was established is currently the largest gang in Haiti, without a doubt, and they beat people up.

Much more power than the president.

But once he was a criminal, of course he wanted to whitewash himself. After all, he was the president, and the title was there. Moreover, most importantly, he could embezzle more aid funds.

Then recruit soldiers and expand your power.

He put his eye on the M151 sight.

Huh? !

Dispatched?!

Armored vehicles were seen pouring out of Prince Port, followed by military vehicles and infantry heading towards the city center.

Jimmy Sherizier shuddered and suddenly opened his eyes.

Isn't it here to destroy me?
Don’t be fooled by how great he brags about himself, he is actually afraid too!

That's the Mexican army that defeated the United States, not the French punks.

"Zizzizi..."

The intercom placed by the window rang, and then the younger brother shouted, "Boss, the soldiers from Port-au-Prince are coming out. There are so many people... so many armored vehicles!"

Damn…

That's how you observe, right?
Jimmy Sherizier's mouth twitched slightly, and he picked up the intercom, "Retreat first, don't fight them hard."

As soon as he finished speaking, he heard rapid gunshots from outside. He jumped up and saw his younger brother who was on observation duty not far away running back in panic.

At most he would turn around and fire two shots, but God knows where the bullets hit.

The smoke-belching AAVP-7A1 amphibious armored vehicle is like a behemoth to Haitian gangs.

Chase and sweep from behind.

In less than ten seconds, seven or eight gangsters fell one after another. It was too fast.

It's like an industrial country attacking an agricultural country. No, no, no, Haiti is just a gang.

Jimmy Sherizier's face turned a little "pale". He licked his dry lips, his Adam's apple rolling up and down, "Retreat, retreat!"

"Boss, are we running away now?"

boom-

Chu tu tu tu——

Jimmy Sherizier raised his gun and fired a volley of shots at the younger brother who raised the question.

He was beaten like Abe.

He stared at the others fiercely, "Who wants to refute me?"

The person he was staring at felt a chill from his tailbone to his scalp, and lowered his head quickly because his scalp was tingling.

I can't beat the Mexicans, but can't I beat you?!

Jimmy Sherizzier: "Go!"

To achieve today's success, it is essential to avoid misfortune and seek good fortune.

But the same may not be true for other gangs.

As the convoy drove towards the Haitian official residence, armed gang members continued to fire their guns.

Hide in messy corners or holes in some ruins and shoot outside.

But there are more than a thousand people in the three battalions, and small-scale fighting is completely useless. Now it’s not cold weapons. I will just give you two rocket launchers and you will be obedient.

Near noon, they pushed directly across from Port-Prince to the vicinity of the Haitian National Palace, consolidating the defense line with a radius of 300 meters.

The officers guarding the presidential residence swallowed when they saw the four AAVP-7A1 amphibious armored vehicles lying outside.

The tweeter in the car was just about to introduce itself.

Then I saw someone raising the white flag.

"Sir, don't shoot, we surrender!"

This made Gunther Lütjens, who was sitting in the car, shake his head and say, "The armies I have seen are worse than the last."

The military staff officer smiled and spread his hands.

This is normal.

Trouble will only occur if everyone's military capabilities are similar.

Hundreds of countries, some of which you haven’t even heard of.

If not in Latin America, do you know Belize?

Do you know Niger?

Do you know East Timor? The Conch Nation?

Peru's army still uses the Greyhound M8 armored vehicle, a wheeled armored vehicle produced by the Ford Motor Company of the United States during World War II.

Even here, there is a sentence written in Latin American military: "Peru is one of the important and very powerful armed forces in South America."

The world does not belong to these small countries.

It’s just that the big brothers need someone to cheer them on.

Without younger brothers, can the eldest brother still be called the eldest brother?

If Japan didn't have its American father, it would have sunk by now, and Bullfrog would have been beaten to death by old fists.

Do you think rabbits are good-tempered?
Seeing that the army did not open fire, the soldiers in the residence opened the door.

"Drive in."

When the armored vehicles drove in, you could see the guards standing in teams spontaneously, with weapons and ammunition thrown in front of them.

When Gunther Lütjens got out of the car, he saw an officer standing not far away saluting, "Sir, Captain Ducaure Mask of the National Palace Guard salutes you."

"Please abide by the prisoner agreement."

Is there a surrender ceremony?
This is Haiti, not Africa.

But of course Gunther Lütjens would not refuse such a small request. Instead, he walked over and stretched out his hand.

Ducaure was startled and quickly grabbed it.

"Please rest assured that we Mexicans are not here to destroy Haiti. Haiti belongs to the Haitian people. We are here to help you eliminate our common enemy."

“Working towards creating a Latin American common prosperity zone.”

Perhaps it was because Gunther Lütjens's tone was very gentle that the other party felt relieved, but suddenly he felt something was wrong and his face froze. "Mexico?"

"Of course, isn't there a national emblem on that car?"

Ducaure took one look and hurried over, and sure enough, he saw the tricolor flag.

Oh shit!

I thought it was the US military.

It’s too early to vote.

"Captain Ducore seems to have some ideas." Gunther Lütjens asked with a smile, squinting his eyes.

The other party gritted his teeth and shook his head, "No, no!"

"Please take me to see Mr. President."

Ducaure nodded, "Please let me follow."

Gunther Lütjens glanced at Fritz Klingenberg, who nodded and waited downstairs.

He himself walked straight into the official residence with 20 guards.

"The President is...inside."

When he reached the door of the office, Ducaure felt a little embarrassed. He was too embarrassed to go in. The guard squad leader pushed open the door.

I saw a black man sitting inside, wearing a gray suit, looking at the person who came with a serious expression.

"Mr. Marc-Louis Bazin, Gunther Lütjens of the 1st Mexican Marine Cavalry Division sends his greetings."

"Are you here to kill me?"

"of course not!"

"We are not the Soviet Union or the United States. We respect your legally elected president and we are here to help you."

"Help? Does that mean dropping missiles on other countries' capitals?" Marc-Louis Bazin gritted his teeth. "What's the difference between Mexico and hegemony?"

Gunther Lütjens narrowed his eyes.

He walked straight up to the other person, took out the pistol from his waist, pulled the bolt, and slammed it on the table.

"I see you have a lot of problems with us, sir. Mexico never forces anything on others. I'll give you three options. First, I'll beat you to death and then find someone else."

"Second, you jump from here."

"Third, sit here quietly, and then we will be responsible for writing your name into Haitian history."

"You choose."

So democratic!

real…

I cried my heart out. Isn't this more humane than when the Soviet Union beheaded Amin?
He was killed without Amin’s consent.

Fuck your Soviet Union!

Marc-Louis Bazin's mouth trembled. Jump down? This is the fourth floor!

He doesn't have the courage.

His energy and spirit were gone, and he just hung his head and said, "I choose the third option."

Gunther Lütjens patted him on the shoulder and said, "We are not occupying you. We are just helping you. Don't be so depressed. Smile."

Marc-Louis Bazin tried hard to smile.

"Oh, come on, sign these documents."

The military staff officer behind him took the contract and placed it on the table.

Is it coming? As expected, they are going to sign a traitorous agreement!

Marc-Louis Bazin stared and picked up a copy.

Agreement allowing Mexico to deal with local gangs on its own

? ?
Next one.

"Allowing Mexico to use weapons of mass destruction against gangs."

"Allow Mexico to take over Haiti's army, police, and government."

"Allowing Mexico to cede the Port of Prince in Haiti for 99 years."

There are more than 60 copies in total.

"Sign it."

Marc-Louis Bazin picked up the pen, paused, and signed his name.

Gunther Lütjens nodded with satisfaction, "Don't worry, you and your family don't have to worry about your safety."

"You don't want to say thank you?"

The President felt aggrieved, but still said softly, "Thank you."

Haiti is in such a bad state, it would be great if someone came to take over.

And he looked unhappy.

Even if you give this place to the United States, the United States won’t want it.

The Dominican Republic next door has set up a checkpoint to prevent you Haitians from entering.

The whole world is leaving you to fend for yourselves, only our leader has given you hope.

You're still not convinced.

I really want to slap you three times.

Not grateful at all.

Gunther Lütjens walked to the door, stopped, and turned back, "Don't call this the National Palace anymore. Really, any official residence can be called that."

You are worthy of it!

Behind closed doors, Marc-Louis Bazin became a complete puppet.

Outside, looking at the somewhat bewildered Ducorre, Gunther Lütjens glanced up and down and said, "Port-Prince needs to re-establish a police department and is in need of a chief. What do you think? Are you interested?"

"4000 riyals a month, which is close to $3000."

The Director of Port-au-Prince?
3000 U.S. Dollars?

Ducaure was immediately excited.

He worked as a guard in the Presidential Palace. Although it seemed very impressive, the salary was low and the job was dangerous, and gangs would attack from time to time.

Less than 2000 Haitian gourdes a month, how much is that?

1:130 USD.

No status at all.

"Each of your men will receive 800 Mexican riyals, and there will be subsidies for injuries or deaths. The highest sacrifice can be 40 riyals!"

Ducaure's face straightened, "Sir, I know there are CIA people in Port-au-Prince."

Gunther Lütjens laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "Then, the first director of Port-au-Prince, are you willing to help us arrest them?"

"No problem sir!"

Gunther Lütjens was also very happy to see the other party's excitement.

When it was opened, the General Staff issued opinions and guidance to the Marine Cavalry Army, including.

A "client army" was formed locally using surrendered soldiers, police and people willing to safeguard Mexican interests.

They are much more familiar with it than the locals.

And in order to work for their new boss, they can't wait to make a contribution.

Just need to pay something?
A little bit of banknotes.

And a little bit of power.

The chief of police in Port-au-Prince?
The people under his command are not as many as the village chief's.

However, the other party is a smart person and will definitely understand.

Before going downstairs, Gunther Lütjens said something to him casually, not knowing whether it was intentional or not.

"Work hard, and maybe you can try to be the next president."

Ducaure immediately perked up.

USA?!
Fuck you America.

I am now a Mexican dog!
Woof woof woof—

……

Victor was in a good mood.

Early in the morning, we started trimming the greenery at the National Palace.

He was humming a little tune.

Belize was completely taken over by the 15th, with basically no bloodshed, and 1500 armed personnel surrendered collectively.

Revolt?

What can I use to resist!
The British father is now in a state of panic, as for the people of the country...

There is a saying: It doesn't matter who you are my son to.
In the course of history, a country or civilization without its own culture and heritage does not matter to whom it belongs.

Back then, independence was just a wave of new ideas.

Instead, it was Guatemala that expressed its dissatisfaction to a greater or lesser extent.

They have coveted Belize for a long time. If it weren't for the British, this little place would have been swallowed up long ago.

But even if you are unhappy, what can you do?

After all, international affairs are all about strength and interests.

"Sir, Mr. Casare is here." said the bodyguard standing nearby.

"Let him come over. When has he ever been so polite?"

Victor said with a smile.

After a while, Casare came over with his belly shaking. This guy looked at least 250+ pounds.

"You need to lose some weight." Victor patted his belly and said, "Come run with me every morning from now on."

"Okay! Hey, boss, just don't mind me running slowly."

Casare smiled until his eyes were invisible. He handed over a document in his hand and said, "Boss, there will be a national outstanding talent meeting and award ceremony this afternoon, as well as a seating chart for the dinner. Here is the list."

"What are you doing to me, you—" Victor said subconsciously, but he raised his head and looked at the other person, and his words stopped abruptly.

Although Fatty Ka didn't say anything else, that look in his eyes said it all.

Victor took it, looked at it, and raised his eyebrows slightly.

I saw a name written in extra large size.

Dita Von Teese!
Born on September 1972, 9 in Rochester, Michigan, USA.

Later in 1991, he followed his parents to Mexico and worked at the Mexico City International Burlesque Theater and Dance Company.

The news is clearly written.

"Outstanding talents are not only from Mexico. Many Americans have also contributed to our entertainment, sports, and various aspects." Casare even thought of an excuse.

What does it mean to be capable?
This is what we call a confidant!
Victor handed the documents back, "No problem, it's well arranged."

"What time in the afternoon?"

"Three o'clock."

Victor nodded and bent down to continue trimming the plants.

"Belize is in need of someone who can take the lead. Who do you think would be the best person to go?"

Casare's face turned serious. "Boss, you have the final say. I don't know much about personnel matters. Whoever you send will have the ability."

Victor glanced at him and said, "You are so cunning. I asked you this because I hope you can recommend someone to me so that our relationship doesn't need to be so hypocritical."

Casare smiled innocently.

You can only listen to half of what your leader says, and don't take the other half seriously, no matter how good your relationship with him is.

This is called the law of survival.

The same goes for colleagues. Don’t be foolish and say everything. You have to learn to play dumb.

After Victor urged repeatedly.

Casare pretended to be thoughtful, and suddenly something occurred to him.

When Tijuana found the intelligence broker, they originally wanted to reward Victor's cousin and Hermann Goering, who was in charge of Tijuana's intelligence work.

But when the reward was put forward, the boss personally cancelled Hermann Goering's name.

Just say wait a little longer.

Could it be that they just want to help him become the Governor of Belize? !

A quick rise to the top?!

Casare hesitated and whispered, "Hermann Goering?"

Victor turned his head and looked at him for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"I knew we two had a good chemistry, right? That's him. What do you think?"

"If the boss says it's okay, then it's okay!"

Another panacea of ​​rhetoric.

"I've read his file, it's very good, so you can call him and ask him to come to the National Palace."

"With Hermann Goering in Belize, the locals will surely be very honest!"

When Casare came out of the garden, he couldn't help wiping his forehead.

Take a long breath.

The boss's thoughts are becoming increasingly difficult to guess.

...

(End of this chapter)