Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 690: Praise to Death!

Mexico City, National Palace, Cabinet meeting room.

The table was covered with charts, reports, and coffee cups, creating a lively atmosphere.

Victor sat in the head seat, leaning back slightly, listening to the report from the staff below about "stimulating the Texas economy".

Walter Funk, president of the Mexican Imperial Bank, adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and began to make a statement:

"Sir, Texas's current economic situation is a typical case of 'post-war shock.' Infrastructure, especially energy and transportation networks, has been severely damaged, but core assets, such as oil fields, ports, and agricultural bases, are largely intact. The biggest challenges at present are capital flight, credit system collapse, and liquidity depletion."

He paused, then opened another document. “Our top priority is to quickly inject credit and restore the economic lifeline. The Imperial Bank proposes to immediately launch a ‘Texas Special Liquidity Program’.”

"Be more specific," Viktor said succinctly.

"First, establish the Texas Recovery Credit Window."

Funk explained clearly, “The Imperial Bank will provide the initial capital and, with its credit guarantee, inject low-interest liquidity loans into eligible Texas local banks and credit unions, specifically for lending to small and medium-sized enterprises, farmers and oil service providers in the state, at interest rates that must be lower than the market rate.”

He glanced at Victor and added, "This would both quickly thaw the economy and deeply bind their assets to our financial system."

Commerce Minister Ludwig Erhard, whose style was more pragmatic and radical, interjected:

“Financial measures must be combined with stimulus to the real economy. Mr. Minister, I propose the introduction of a concession development zone system. We should not spread our efforts evenly, but concentrate our resources to create models.”

He stood up, walked to the large Texas map hanging on the wall, and pointed to several key locations with his finger.

"For example, in the Houston-Galveston Port Area, we will establish an energy and deep-water port integrated development zone, and we will provide: a five-year tax exemption period; simplified or even exempted environmental and labor regulations approvals; allow 100% foreign ownership of energy-related companies; and provide supporting funds for infrastructure upgrades."

"Similarly, in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, relying on its existing logistics and light industry base, an 'Inland Logistics and Processing Free Trade Zone' will be established to provide fast customs clearance services and tax-free transit policies to attract manufacturing companies, especially those that utilize Texas' abundant raw materials for deep processing."

President Fung added to the financial support: "For companies settling in the concession development zone, the Imperial Bank can provide 'project-bundled financing,' with loans enjoying lower discount rates and political risk guarantees from the Mexican Export Credit Insurance Corporation to attract external capital."

Viktor had been listening in silence until he finally spoke: "External investment? In the current security situation, policies and low interest rates alone are not attractive enough."

Minister Ahad seemed well-prepared: "Security is the premise, but capital pursues profits. In addition to the above policies, we can also launch 'Reconstruction Bonds', issued by the Mexican Ministry of Finance, specifically for Texas infrastructure reconstruction projects. The bonds are secured by future oil revenues, offering a higher yield than national bonds, and will be offered to the global capital market. This will not only raise funds, but also declare to the world the future potential of Texas and our confidence."

Victor's expression was somewhat strange.

This is fucking...

That sounds familiar, how do I say it again?

Don't run away, trust me, I can make you rich.

Tomorrow, his stock will go up.

Trust me!
However, I'm asking you to lend me some money now, just for a short while.

President Feng continued, "We will package some of the high-quality state-owned assets in Dezhou, such as toll roads and partial operating rights of port terminals, into standardized financial products, sell them to international investors, quickly realize cash, and recover funds. At the same time, we will relinquish some of our interests to bring global capital into our community of shared interests."

The meeting lasted for several hours, with various proposals being put forward, discussed, and revised. Victor did not immediately make a final decision on all matters.

However, he outlined a clear framework for quickly stabilizing the situation through financial means, creating growth poles through special economic zone policies, attracting global capital with energy and geographical advantages, and gradually promoting monetary and economic integration.

"Let's adjourn."

Everyone stood up, but did not leave first.

Viktor rubbed his temples, then walked out of the conference room and returned to his office.

Victory in war is only the beginning; how to digest the spoils is often the more difficult challenge.

He had just sat down behind his desk, and hadn't even had time to pick up a report, when there was a steady knock on the door.

"Come in."

Casare pushed open the door and entered.

"Boss, the counterinsurgency campaign in Texas is still ongoing. The clearing operation is proceeding as planned, and the resistance is within expectations." Casare first gave a brief report on the military progress, then changed the subject to the real purpose of his trip.
"However, the Brelock, Garrett, and Johnson families are taking advantage of the current chaos to actively cooperate with us in eliminating their past political and business rivals, while frantically expanding their spheres of influence. It's as if they want to eat as much as they can right now, as if they're afraid of starving to death."

Casare's tone was somewhat urgent, "Now, their inherent instability and local power are becoming obstacles to the new order. How should we deal with them?"

Victor shook his head.

He spoke slowly and calmly, “No, Casare, we can’t treat our friends so roughly.”

He turned back to Casare: "In my name, I extend my sincerest invitation to these families, to thank them for their outstanding contributions and great sacrifices during the liberation of Texas, and to invite all core members to Mexico City. We will hold a grand awarding ceremony and celebratory banquet, and I will personally award them the 'Mexican Order of Friendship' at the National Palace."

"From now on, we can start building public opinion. We need to let Mexicans, Americans, and even Europeans know how much they helped us in this Texas battle, and we need to thank them."

Casare was taken aback, but instantly understood what his boss meant.

Praise!

This kind of reputation is worthless; most importantly, it essentially cuts them off from certain circles in Europe and America.

Where can they go?
I have no choice but to continue following Viktor.

"Great, great, boss! I still have a lot to learn." Fatty Ka's eyes lit up.

"Stop flattering me, get someone to do it right away."

Casare nodded vigorously, grinning, "Okay!"

Viktor had a cigarette dangling from his hand.

He certainly wouldn't do something like discarding a useful tool after it's been used, that would be too low, but he also hoped for obedient powerful figures.

Don't let yourself get a reputation for being mean.

Otherwise, I'll blow up your ancestral graves too.

...

In the main house of Breylock Estate, west of Houston, Texas.

Elton Blelock sat alone in the spacious and luxurious living room.

After the eldest son, Marcus, committed suicide, the house seemed to lose all its vitality.

Cole was busy integrating family resources, "cleaning house" and "expanding operations" according to the wishes of his new master, and rarely went home.

The servants walked on tiptoe, afraid of disturbing the old man's grief.

Old Elton's gaze drifted aimlessly to a large oil painting hanging above the fireplace. It was a family portrait; back then, his eldest son was just a teenager, he himself was young, his wife was alive, and his father was still vigorous in his old age. And now?

Old Elton let out a very soft sigh.

To ensure the survival of his family, he chose the most pragmatic path, at the cost of his eldest son's life and the most valuable intangible asset his family had accumulated over a century—its reputation.

"Stuart had no traitors?"

He muttered to himself, a bitter smile twisting his lips, "Brelock is all of that now."

Just then, the double doors to the living room were gently pushed open, and John, the family's old butler, walked in silently, carrying a silver tray with a letter made of thick parchment and sealed with the Mexican coat of arms.

John's voice was deep and respectful. "Sir, this is an urgent dispatch from Mexico City, personally signed by Mr. Casare."

Old Elton's cloudy eyes slowly moved, his gaze falling on the wax seal. He didn't immediately take it, but just looked at it.

John remained motionless in the delivery posture.

After a long while, old Elton slowly extended his hand.

That hand, which once signed oil contracts worth millions, is now covered with age spots and trembles slightly involuntarily.

He picked up the letter; it felt heavy in his hand.

He slowly peeled off the sealing wax and pulled out the letter inside.

The letter was written in beautiful English, with extremely refined wording, and was full of praise and gratitude.

[To the esteemed Mr. Elton Blaylock and the Blaylock family:]

In recognition of your family's vision, unwavering commitment, and outstanding, even sacrificial, contributions to the restoration of peace and order in Texas, President Natoly Lunacharski, along with the Mexican government and people, extend our highest respect and sincerest gratitude to you and your family.

To recognize this irreplaceable friendship and achievement, President Natoli Lunacharski cordially invites you and the core members of the Brelock family to the National Palace in Mexico City for a grand awarding ceremony and celebratory banquet. The President will personally present you with the "Mexican Eagle of Friendship Medal," the highest honor, and take this opportunity to discuss plans for the future prosperity of Texas, as well as your family's rights and status within that framework.

We look forward to your presence as we witness this historic moment and envision a bright future together.

The document was signed by Casare, and the title was "Chief of the Presidential Office," which was, of course, a part-time position for him.

The text is filled with praise, promises, and seemingly boundless respect.

However, as old Elton read the letter word by word, his face gradually turned ashen, and his hand holding the letter trembled even more violently.

"Mexican Eagles of Friendship Medal"

Shit!

This is what they do – put them on a fire to roast!
Old Elton felt a strong wave of dizziness and nausea, his stomach churning.

He slammed the letter onto the coffee table next to him with a loud "thud".

"Father?"

Cole Brelock's voice came from the doorway. He had obviously just arrived, his face a mixture of tension and barely concealed excitement.

He strode in, his gaze immediately drawn to the open letter on the coffee table.

"From Mexico City?"

Cole raised his voice slightly, picked up the letter, and quickly scanned it.

The more he looked, the brighter his eyes became. "The Mexican Eagles of Friendship Medal, awarded personally by the president, is an immense honor and an opportunity for us. Victor wants to discuss the future distribution of benefits with us, which means..."

"This means we're finished! Utterly finished!"

Old Elton abruptly interrupted him, raising his head and staring intently at his youngest son with bloodshot eyes. "Honor? That's poison coated in honey. Opportunity? That's for us to stand before the whole world and admit we're traitors, and from then on, the name Brelock will be a joke in Texas! A disgrace, and we can never turn back!"

Cole was startled by his father's strong reaction, but he quickly calmed down and his tone became pragmatic: "Dad! Wake up! Be realistic. We have no choice now. Paul is finished, Texas is finished, Victor won. What we need to think about now is how to survive in the new rules of the game, and survive better!"

He waved the letter: "This is the most practical thing! Mexicans need us to stabilize Texas, that's our value! If we go to Mexico City, we can get written guarantees, more oil quotas, and port concessions. This is the future of the family, not just letting that tattered flag rot away!"

"and then?"

Old Elton's voice was filled with weariness and sarcasm. "Exhibited like monkeys in a circus? Showing the whole world how we wag our tails and beg? Cole, my son... Some things, once lost, can never be regained."

"Only by surviving can we talk about taking anything back!"

Cole wouldn't budge an inch. "If you're dead, you've lost everything! Didn't Marcus's death make you understand? That's how this era is. Only the living can talk, and the dead only lose."

The father and son stared intently at each other, their breathing heavy.

The old clock ticked away, striking a heart-wrenching rhythm.

Looking at his youngest son, who had become so unfamiliar and so calculating, old Elton seemed to see another form of end for the Brelock family.

He finally slumped into the high-backed sofa, as if all his spine had been removed.

"Go ahead."

He closed his eyes, waved his hand, and said in a voice so faint it was almost inaudible, "Take the family members you need...go and collect your medals...I, this old man, won't embarrass myself by going..."

Cole looked at his father, who seemed to have aged ten years in an instant, opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he just pursed his lips.

He straightened his suit and tie and carefully put the letter away.

"I'll handle everything, Dad."

Cole's voice regained its composure, "For the glory of the Brelock family."

After saying that, he turned around and walked out of the living room with firm steps to prepare for this "glorious journey" to Mexico City, a journey filled with humiliation and opportunity.

Old Elton was left alone in the empty living room. He slowly raised his trembling hand, covered his face, and a few warm, sticky tears seeped from the corner of his eye.

Under Viktor's rule, one can only be a submissive subject.

This kind of person is a scoundrel. Damn it, it's only because Victor is kind-hearted that he's not buried.

Obsessed!

……

(End of this chapter)