Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 593 Compromise is an art!
Casare frowned and asked, "Boss, who do you think it is?"

When this question was asked, a bloody reality was laid out before him: Casare had already transformed into a political creature in his bones.

Trying to maximize profits from this "accident".

There is no need to pay any attention to those little punks who jump out. They are just a bunch of useless people who can't even keep up with the heat of the moment. They can only do some small tricks secretly. But if they say that this is the work of the "Americans", then it is obvious that the anti-American conflict in Mexico will intensify!

What is this called?
This is called playing with the tide of thought, or more precisely, manipulating public opinion for one's own benefit.

Victor picked up the cigarette on the table, shook the cigarette box in his hand, and handed it to him. Casare quickly stood up and took the cigarette with both hands. Just as he was about to sit down, the former picked up the lighter and lit it for him.

This made Fatty Ka a little overwhelmed.

"Man, you know what the saddest thing in the world is?"

How did this become a philosophical discussion?

Fatty Ka took a puff of his cigarette and raised his eyebrows, "The person is dead, but the money is still there?"

When he saw the boss's expression that almost rolled his eyes, he smiled and shook his head, "I don't quite understand. After I followed you, boss, there was nothing sad anymore."

This gave Victor peace of mind.

After a while, he said quietly, "The saddest thing in the world is that you realize that you have lost yourself!"

"We can use politics to attack our opponents, which is one way, but have you ever thought about what we would do if there were further anti-American demonstrations in the country? What about the Americans who have immigrated to Mexico and settled there?"

“Will it be a good thing if a large-scale conflict breaks out in the country at that time?”

"If a riot breaks out, what measures should we use to stop it?"

"Besides the Americans, Mexicans, and Soviets, and immigrants from other countries, even though they are in the minority, what if they are dragged into the conflict?"

The three questions left Casare speechless.

"People are the creators of history, but they often don't know what they are creating." Victor pointed to his head, "They are wilder, more cowardly, more crazy, and more... brainless."

"There is a sentence in Gustave Le Bon's "The Crowd", "The intelligence of the group is always inferior to that of the isolated individual."

Casare lowered his head to think for a moment, then nodded slowly, "I understand."

But he said unwillingly, "What if it was really done by the CIA?"

"Not to mention, the CIA is now infiltrated by Hydra and the Mexican Intelligence Agency like a fishing net. Even if they have the ability, it must be done by someone else!"

Victor's eyes were dark. "Stirring up conflict is a method that will never go out of style."

In politics, we must learn to compromise!
Mexico has too small a population. If Victor wants to reap the demographic dividend, he can only become a semi-immigrant country. The country’s population is now close to 2 million, ranking among the top six in terms of population. Among them, there are more than 2000 million Americans who have fled here because of wars and various turmoil, nearly 3000 million!
These people have greatly promoted the development of Mexico's economy, culture, and technology.

The next largest population is Hispanics of other descent, at nearly 700 million.

Fourth is Asian, with a population of about 220 million.

If there really is an action to exclude Americans in the country, Victor does not believe that other ethnic groups will not add insult to injury. What he can guarantee is that the political power will always be in the hands of the Mexicans.

When a small tribe invades a big country, it will inevitably suffer disaster!
This is not uncommon in history. Isn’t it the case with the Qing Dynasty in modern times?

After a decade or twenty years of peace and stability, and the arrival of the Internet era, the barriers between races and nationalities will gradually disappear, bringing people closer together. Of course, this is the trend of the times.

The office became a little dull because of this topic.

Two people were smoking cigarettes, surrounded by smoke, it was like a "paradise on earth".

Jingle Bell!
The phone on the desk rang.

Victor held a cigarette in his right hand and picked up the phone with his left hand, "Hello-"

Casare's cheeks were puffing up, and he was breathing out of his nostrils. He looked at the boss, and saw his lips move slightly, but it was so slight that you couldn't even see it if you didn't look carefully.

For someone who has been a lackey for so long, this must be big news.

"okay, I get it."

Victor hung up the phone, looked up and looked at Casare, "The mastermind behind this is Pablo's Medellin."

"!!!"

"He couldn't accept that the British and the European republics had stood him up. He felt that everyone looked down on him and he wanted revenge!"

Also...

You agreed to fight against the Wei together, but now you are playing together with him. Pablo will definitely not let anyone feel comfortable with his intentions.

After Victor finished speaking, he saw the surprise, disbelief and a hint of doubt in Casare's eyes, "Why? Don't you believe it?"

"No, no, boss, I believe everything you say. Even if you say that Jesus, Buddha and Allah are one person, I believe it." Fatty Ka said with a laugh.

"I learned this from Pablo's cousin, Gustavo Gaviria, who was responsible for the expansion of the cocaine sales network, that he had surrendered to the Colombian branch of the Mexican Overseas Drug Enforcement Agency."

"when??!!"

"Just an hour after the bombing."

Casare couldn't utter a word for a long time. He wanted to complain, but some words were inappropriate for him to say given his status.

"What? You find it incomprehensible?" Victor knew what he meant by looking at his expression.

"A little bit. Gustavo Gaviria is Pablo's founding father. The two of them have a very close relationship and are unlikely to betray us. Besides... our methods of dealing with drug dealers are quite extreme. Will he surrender to us? Could it be fake?"

cough cough...

Boss, you kill drug dealers whenever you see them, and that makes them unwilling to surrender.

Just like the Mexican drug dealers, they would rather leave their homes than surrender. Aren’t they just afraid that you will play Candy Crush on them?
"He called the United Nations Drug Enforcement Agency, and the call was answered by the Colombian branch of the Mexican Overseas Drug Enforcement Agency."

"..."

"..."

"... "

Casare's face froze and he chuckled twice. I don't know how to describe Gustavo Gaviria, you unlucky child.

"According to what he said, when he learned about the explosion in Mexico City, he was terrified, fearing that we would retaliate. He was afraid that someone would chop off his head while he slept at night. He had not slept with his wife or mistress for a long time, just for fear of losing his life. When he heard that Pablo had ordered people to retaliate, he felt something was wrong and could not bear the depression in his heart."

Here we have to talk about the ruthlessness of several major intelligence agencies in Mexico.

Three tricks, high reward, absolute confidentiality, and safe payment!
I will never owe you a penny.

Just give as much as you say.

This made many people in the drug cartels feel insecure. There were many cases where people who committed adultery were beheaded by their mistresses and husbands. Gustavo Gaviria heard this news every day and became a frightened bird.

What is this called?
Focus on the heart!

Even an old drug dealer with outstanding psychological qualities cannot survive in this situation.

Don't be afraid of thieves stealing, just be afraid of thieves missing you.

However, it is indeed rare to find someone as "frank" as Gustavo Gaviria. His status is already considered an absolute high-level figure in Medellin!

"I can almost see Pablo getting pissed off right now."

Casare sighed and suddenly shuddered, "Boss, I heard that bastard is mentally ill now? He is moody and often beats and scolds people around him. Can we have someone disguised as a psychologist and kill him?"

Assassination is also an art.

But Victor thought about it and shook his head. "Ethan Hunt's case is still considered a disgrace in Medellin. It's not easy to get close to him. Don't waste people. Let someone bring Gustavo Gaviria to Mexico City."

"Boss, are you going to kill him?"

"It would be a shame to kill him. Let Harris (Attorney General) announce that he will not be executed. At the same time, you have to give him a bonus check for providing us with the coordinates of Pablo's family, which allowed us to blow up his entire family."

Gulu…

Casare swallowed.

Boss, you are treating him as if he is an Indian.

Regardless of whether it is true or not, Pablo will definitely go crazy after hearing this news. Not only will it stimulate his illness, but he will also do many wrong things in anger. "Of course, the most important thing is to let him accuse Pablo of the terrorist attack on Mexico City. We also ask the United Nations to list it as a terrorist organization. When I meet with the defense ministers of European countries in early July, I will ask them to send troops to help Colombia eliminate Medellin!"

"I just can't believe that Pablo can survive like this!"

Casare's brows trembled violently, and with a snap, he pressed down his eyelids, which were trembling like a typewriter.

Aren’t these all Pablo’s original words?

What is this called?
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you? ?

Victor slowly leaned forward, just blocking the light above. He looked particularly gloomy. "Once we get into Medellin, I'm going to kill all his blood relatives. The best way to stop drugs is to kill them all off!"

When Fatty Ka heard these murderous words, his pupils shrank.

"Hahaha, just kidding. How can I possibly kill all 2317421 people in Medellin? Just kidding, just kidding. I will only kill the ringleader!" Victor leaned back, waved his hands and said it was a joke.

Boss...

You know the number of people clearly, and you have obtained the roster of Medellin.

You said you can say whatever you want...

But I feel cold in my heart.

If he really did that, the guys with mustaches below would have to stand up and kowtow to him.

Morals are still necessary.

There must be a bottom line!
"The government will provide compensation for the explosion, 2 riyals per person for the dead, and the disabled will receive compensation based on their disability level. We must strictly control the direction of domestic public opinion. I don't want any other problems to arise."

Casare nodded vigorously, "I understand."

Seeing that the boss had no other instructions, he got up and left.

When he reached the door, he wiped the sweat off his face and swallowed his saliva, "Boss, was your last name Adolf in your previous life?"

……

News about the Mexican bombings was flying around the Internet, and there was constant ridicule of Victor and his cabinet.

With a keyboard in hand, everyone can hide behind their computer and laugh at the giant as much as they want.

But there is only one voice in Mexico: "Loyalty and mourning!"

Mainstream media are guiding public opinion and severely condemning this behavior. Of course, there are also some crooked people who want to use "eye-catching" content to increase sales.

The newspaper had just been put on the machine at the printing factory, and the boss and editor-in-chief entered the "Kuzamala Reservoir Hotel" the next second.

Under absolute power, no one can cause any trouble.

If someone in Mexico makes extreme remarks online, the computer's IP address will be tracked and the Internet police will be keeping an eye on it.

Sure, Victor was covering his mouth, but the ass dictated the head.

At this time, the headquarters in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

With flaming eyes and a livid face, Frederick Franks rushed into the office of "Military Inspector" Major General Thomas Rem with "Truth" in his hand.

The guards he brought with him to the door were startled when they saw the old general like this. Just as they were about to come over, Frederick pointed a gun at them and said, "Get out of here!"

Seeing him like this, the guards didn't dare to lean against the wall.

Frederick Franks kicked the door open and heard a scream from inside. Then he saw a woman frantically fiddling with her skirt, and Thomas Rem anxiously zipping up his pants.

It turned red and warm in an instant!
This woman looks very worldly at first glance. Those brothers who have been to the third floor of a foot massage parlor know it and can tell at a glance.

This is cluck!
"Fuck you!" Frederick Franks gritted his teeth and kicked Thomas Rem in the abdomen, knocking him hard against the wall. He grabbed his hair, pointed the gun at his head, and yelled, "Bastard! You're a whore in my army!"

"My soldiers are fighting for America on the front lines, and you're messing around with women here. I'll kill you!"

As he said this, he opened the safety.

He shot Thomas Ream in the head.

The latter's pupils shrank and his brain went blank.

"Click!"

This "Gun of Kindness" is stuck...

Thomas Rem was stunned, then he pushed him away with strength from nowhere, without even pulling up his pants. He grabbed it with one hand and ran outside, shouting heartbreakingly, "Help! Help! Help! Someone is killing me!!"

Frederick Franks didn't chase after him. He looked down at the weapon in his hand, raised his head, and then smashed the gun to the ground with force, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Then he sat down on the ground somewhat dejectedly.

When the people outside looked in, they saw that the front-line commander was actually crying.

He really has countless grievances.

He heard about the explosion in Mexico City and many people causing internal conflicts. He thought this was an opportunity. Most importantly, the logistics supply could not keep up, and a decisive battle was needed to capture Juarez!
but…

When he gave the order to the troops below, it was ignored...

Someone also replied, "The military inspector needs to review the signature." It has to start from the regimental level. Once signed and submitted, it was too late. Frederick Franks had long been dissatisfied with this mechanism. He called the Pentagon. On the phone, he thought that Secretary of Defense Norman Schwarzkopf would support him like he did during the Gulf War.

As a result, the other party remained silent for a long time, and after a few minutes he said, "Follow the procedure."

Before he could react, he hung up the phone.

Admiral Frederick Franks immediately realized that he, the general, was no longer trusted. He was angry and wanted to cause trouble for Thomas Rem, but God... made the gun jam.

"Catch him, he's crazy, he's crazy!"

Thomas Rem, with his trousers pulled up, screamed sharply and stood at the door like a jumping monkey, pointing at him with a red face.

But the guards at the door looked at each other, and no one moved.

After all, that was the commander.

"Born Waters! Go hold him down!"

Thomas Rem looked at his confidants and gritted his teeth, "I'm going to call the Minister of Defense. Frederick Franks is crazy. He wants to shoot the military inspector. I want him to go to jail and be tried in a military court."

Perhaps the words "military court" gave the other party some reaction. As soon as he raised his head, he heard hurried footsteps approaching from afar.

Deputy Commander Ratatosk Davis came over to inquire. Seeing the scene in front of him, he frowned. Seeing that there were many people gathered around, he waved his hands vigorously, "Disperse, don't gather together, what are you doing? Do you want to be sent to the front line to carry boxes?!"

After hearing what he said, the group of people who were waiting to watch the fun dispersed immediately.

Ratatosk Davis helped his superior up, but Military Inspector Thomas Rem was still unwilling to give up, mainly because he had lost face. "You came at the right time. He is trying to subvert the army. Catch him..."

"Fuck you, get out of here!"

Lieutenant General Ratatosk Davis glared at him, "Don't make me slap you to death."

Seeing that look, Thomas Rem shuddered, remembering that this guy had a bad temper and had fought with many people in real combat, and he had also learned it. It hurt when he fought. He walked back, pointed at them, and said harshly, "Wait, I'll tell the Minister of Defense that you guys don't respect the rules."

Looking at his back, Lieutenant General Ratatosk Davis sighed, "I really want to shoot him. He wants to be gilded, so he wants to be gilded. He wants to pretend to be a grandson, but he has to intervene. If his sister hadn't had an affair with the defense minister's brother, how could he have gotten to this position? He will be shot sooner or later!"

Admiral Frederick Franks patted his hands and shook his head in frustration, "Let's go."

"General, there is urgent news from the front."

"James Gavin, commander of the 82nd Airborne Division, killed the military inspector and surrendered his troops to the Texas rebels!"

Upon hearing this, Admiral Frederick Franks glared with anger and suddenly felt his blood pressure rising. Then his whole body became dizzy and his eyes went dark. He fell forward to the ground.

"General! General!"

The guard at the door ran in in panic, carried him, and hurried to the infirmary.

But fortunately, it was nothing serious and I woke up more than half an hour later.

The first thing he said when he woke up was, "Why have you forsaken me?"
……

(End of this chapter)