Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 712 Your position is determined by your position!
The "ban on killing" issued by Prime Minister Casare's office was sent from Mexico City in the form of documents, telegrams, and official announcements, and was transmitted to various cities, states, towns, and villages throughout the vast country.

However, this order, which symbolizes the "reconstruction of the rule of law," was instantly distorted or even ignored when it reached certain deeply rooted areas.

In Michoacán, a mountainous state in central Mexico, lies a conservative town dominated by ancient ethnic groups and prominent surnames—this is such a place.

The authority of families and clans far surpasses that of distant governments. Community affairs are customarily handled by clan elders or respected individuals, following "rules" passed down for countless generations.

law?

That's for the gentry in the city and the capital. Here, fists, machetes, and family power are the only true things.

Why do some people say that Mexican society is actually very similar to Tokyo University society?

They have a very strong sense of family and clan!

Even in the year 2000, in coastal areas or the Guangdong and Guangxi regions, you could hear stories of people being punished according to family rules.

Before the internet was widespread, if someone killed you and dumped you in the mountains, who the hell would know?
A clear river flows through the edge of the town, offering beautiful scenery that occasionally attracts adventurous backpackers.

That afternoon, three young backpackers from Europe, two men and one woman, blond and blue-eyed, were hiking along the riverbank, looking travel-worn.

They were French: Pierre, Jeanne, and Thomas.

Several dilapidated motorcycles roared and kicked up dust as they stopped not far from them.

Several local young men were sitting in the car, wearing cheap vests that revealed their dark, lean arms. Their eyes were brazenly scanning the three foreigners, especially Jeanne.

Jesus, the leader, was a notorious thug in town. He grinned, revealing a set of teeth stained yellow from smoking, and shouted in heavily accented Spanish, "Hey! Friends! Where are you from?"

Pierre frowned and replied in broken Spanish, "France."

"France? What a great place!" Jesus and his companions laughed, their motorcycles still running, making a noisy roar.

He drove the car slowly, following them. "Do you need any help? This place isn't safe; there are wolves and bad guys."

His gaze was fixed on Jeanne's blonde hair, which was sticking to her forehead due to sweat.

“No need, thank you, please let us walk around by ourselves.” Thomas stepped forward, trying to block their view, his tone already tinged with displeasure.

“Don’t be so cold, friend,” another thug chimed in. “We know a great place with free lodging and good wine. Want to go have some fun?” he said, giving Jeanne a flippant whistle.

Jeanne gripped Pierre's arm tightly and whispered, "Let's go quickly."

Pierre stopped, turned around, and faced the group of ill-intentioned locals, suppressing his anger: "Listen, we don't need help, we don't need lodging, and we don't want to play with you. Please leave and don't bother us anymore!" He emphasized his words.

These words seemed to pierce through the layer of hypocritical politeness.

Jesus's face instantly darkened, and his sly smile vanished without a trace, replaced by a ferocious expression of being offended.

"Leave?" Jesus narrowed his eyes, sizing up Pierre, then suddenly raised his voice, "You're acting so suspiciously, asking all sorts of questions, and even refusing our kindness! You don't seem like tourists! Tell me! Are you 'drug dealers'?! Here to scout things out?"

This accusation is illogical, yet utterly malicious.

"What nonsense are you spouting!" Thomas exclaimed, his face turning red with anger.

Before they could argue further, Jesus jumped off the motorcycle and waved his hand, shouting, "Grab these drug dealers! Don't let them get away!"

Several other thugs grinned maliciously and pounced on him.

Fists and clubs rained down on Pierre and Thomas.

Two young Frenchmen tried to fight back, but they were no match for these local thugs who had been fighting for years. They were quickly knocked to the ground, writhing in pain.

"Jeanne! Run!" Pierre roared between beatings.

But Jeanne couldn't escape. A thug grabbed her hair roughly and dragged her toward a narrow, dirty alleyway by the river amidst her terrified screams.

"Let her go! You beasts!" Thomas's eyes were bloodshot as he tried to get up, but Jesus kicked him hard in the stomach, and he collapsed.

Not far away, an elderly local man happened to be going out. When he saw this scene, his expression changed, and he hurriedly ran back into the house to make a phone call.

Jesus caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye. He spat, pulled a machete from the back of the motorcycle, rushed over, and just as the old man picked up the phone receiver, he slashed the old man's shoulder with the machete!
"Ah!" The old man screamed and fell into a pool of blood. The telephone receiver fell to the ground, and a busy tone came from it.

"Old man, mind your own business!" Jesus cursed.

The tragedy continued in broad daylight.

After being beaten to the point of semi-consciousness, Pierre and Thomas were dragged to the riverbank like trash and thrown into the seemingly calm but turbulent river.

The two struggled for a few moments, then sank to the bottom, falling silent. Deeper in the alley, Jeanne's cries and screams continued for a while before finally fading into silence, leaving only the heavy breathing of several men and the sound of belts being fastened.

When the only police car in town slowly drove up, all that remained were messy footprints by the river, a shocking pool of blood at the alley entrance, and the old man who had been slashed and was on the verge of death.

The sheriff in charge watched Jesus and his men stand nonchalantly to the side smoking, then glanced in the direction of the alley, frowned, and asked a few simple questions. Jesus, still with a cigarette in his mouth, said, "Sheriff, we suspect they are drug dealers and wanted to arrest them for questioning. They resisted and even attacked this old man. We were acting in self-defense and helping the community eliminate dangerous elements."

The sheriff glanced at Jesus's hand and then noticed the small roll of banknotes that Jesus was handing him. He silently took it and put it in his pocket.

The on-site "investigation" was perfunctory, and the record stated: a suspected outsider had a conflict with a local resident, fell into the river and went missing, another resident was injured in the conflict, the perpetrator fled, and is being pursued.

Then there is no more then.

black!
That's fucking black!
It's so similar... Never mind, it's all in the past anyway.

But things will eventually go wrong.

Three or four days later, a small-circulation newspaper in Mexico City called "The Moment of Truth," which mainly reports on sensational and fringe news, published a submission from a correspondent in Michoacán describing the incident in which "tourists were allegedly attacked due to a misunderstanding."

This newspaper is not usually found on the Prime Minister's desk in the National Palace.

But coincidentally, on that day, Casare, in order to understand public opinion, had his secretary collect almost every newspaper available on the market.

After his lunch break, he casually flipped through the pages while sipping his coffee.

Then, his gaze settled on the article.

There's a saying that goes, "If the higher-ups aren't paying attention, you can commit murder and arson and nobody will care. But if the higher-ups are paying attention..."

Eating dumplings without vinegar is a mistake.

Casare was initially puzzled, then incredulous. He read it carefully twice, each word feeling like a needle piercing his eyes.

He slammed the coffee cup down on the table, splashing the dark brown liquid.

He grabbed the red dedicated phone on the table and connected directly to Police Minister Robert Beale's office.

The call was answered almost instantly, and Robert's voice came from the other end: "Mr. Prime Minister?"

"Robert Beer!!!"

Casare's roar was like a volcanic eruption, making the phone receiver vibrate. "You son of a bitch! Can you even do the job? If you can't, get the hell out of here right now! I'll immediately suggest to Mr. Victor that you, this useless minister, be sent to be a street patrolman!!"

This barrage of insults completely stunned Robert Beer on the other end of the phone; he could even feel the spittle flying through the receiver.

"What happened to the Prime Minister?"

"What the hell?! You still have the nerve to ask what the hell is going on?!"

"Look at the mess your bunch of bastards have made! Michoacán, a fucking nobody town, and three foreign backpackers! Two men and one woman, in broad daylight, were beaten to death by local thugs. Two of them were thrown into the river and drowned. And the woman! She was dragged into an alley and gang-raped to death. When some civilians tried to call the police, they stabbed them and seriously injured them!!"

Casare's voice grew louder and louder, "It's only been a few days?! The ink on the laws and regulations hasn't even dried yet! And these bastards dare to do such inhuman things in the heat of the moment?"

"This is very bad for our international image!"

“Robert Bill, let me tell you, if this isn’t handled properly, I’ll personally lead my guards to raze that damn town to the ground, and then I’ll clean up your entire police department from top to bottom. You think I’m joking with you, huh?!”

Robert Beer believed it! Of course he believed it! He believed it completely!
Who is Casare? He is one of Victor's most trusted confidants, who have been by his side since the beginning of his rise to power. He is the true number two figure in Mexico!

The "Prime Minister" appointed by the "Mexican Emperor Fontana" was always smiling.

But if you really wait for him to get angry, who cares what kind of damn minister you are, it's easy for him to take you down.

"Prime Minister! I understand! I will handle this personally immediately and ensure that all those involved are apprehended and brought to justice. I will also investigate and prosecute the local police officers involved, giving Mr. Viktor, you, and the people of the entire nation an explanation!"

"An explanation? I don't want an explanation, I want the heads of those bastards! I want all of Mexico to see clearly that anyone who dares to use vigilante justice as an excuse to act lawlessly will be the next example to be hanged in the square. We are not India, we are a civilized society."

"boom!"

After Casare hung up the phone, he hurled even harsher insults. "Your perspective is determined by your own position," he said, "now you're looking at things from your own point of view."

Vigilante justice is a destabilizing factor in society, and you wouldn't want the government's authority to be trampled on like that, would you?

rule!

rule!

It's still the same damn rule!
……

"Secretary!!" Robert Beer roared toward the door, "Bring me every newspaper available today, no, for the last three days, especially those worthless tabloids! Now! Immediately!"

The secretary had never heard the minister speak so out of control, and rushed out immediately.

A dozen minutes later, a stack of newspapers, still smelling of ink, was placed on Robert's desk. He practically pounced on it, frantically flipping through them, and soon the article in "Truth Moment" caught his eye.

He read it word by word, and the more he read, the redder his face became, until finally it almost turned liver-colored.

"Useless, a bunch of complete and utterly useless idiots!!" he muttered under his breath, unsure whether he was cursing his colleagues in Michoacán, the sheriff of that small town, or the deep-seated inertia within the entire system.

He abruptly pressed the internal communicator on the table, "Notify everyone at headquarters who's carrying stars on their shoulders to assemble in Conference Room One within five minutes." Only after the order was given did the massive machine of police headquarters seem to pick up speed slightly.

But ingrained habits are hard to break.

Five minutes later, when Minister Robert walked into Conference Room One with a gloomy face, only a few people were sparsely seated around the long table, and several seats were empty.

The senior police officers who had already arrived were either sipping their coffee or chatting in hushed tones, their faces showing a hint of afternoon languor and indifference.

Robert didn't say anything, but simply walked to the head of the table.

Two or three minutes later, the last few police officers finally arrived, including Inspector Hector Sánchez, who was in charge of public relations and media affairs. He seemed to have just finished a minor social engagement, his face still slightly flushed. He straightened his tie and habitually walked to his seat to sit down.

“Inspector Sanchez,” Secretary Robert’s voice rang out.

Sanchez paused, looked up, and forced a professional smile: "Minister, I'm sorry, just now..."

“Did I let you sit down?” Robert interrupted him.

Sanchez's smile froze, his movements halted in mid-air, unsure whether to sit or stand, appearing extremely awkward.

He tried to explain: "Minister, it's because..."

"Get out."

"what?"

"I told you to get out!" Robert suddenly raised his voice. "I want to see your resignation letter on my desk again today! Now, get out of my sight immediately! Get out!"

Inspector Sanchez's face instantly turned from red to white, then from white to green. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but when he met Minister Robert's almost murderous gaze, all the words stuck in his throat. He instinctively shrank his neck, no longer daring to hesitate, and left the conference room, forgetting to even close the door.

"Bang!" Minister Robert slammed the door shut. The loud noise made every senior police officer in the conference room, who was a general, tremble. Their previous laziness and laxity vanished instantly. They straightened their backs and sat up straight like primary school students, eyes downcast, not daring to breathe.

The minister walked to the head seat but did not sit down.

He slammed the crumpled copy of the "Truth Moment" newspaper onto the center of the conference table.

"Let me fucking see them all!"

The newspaper was carefully picked up and passed around.

When they saw the report about the violence in a small town in Michoacán, describing how foreign tourists were beaten to death, women were gang-raped, and a Good Samaritan was stabbed and seriously injured, everyone's face turned extremely grim.

Some were shocked, some were angry, but others had shifty eyes, as if weighing the pros and cons.

"Look! Look at this, you fucking people!" Minister Robert slammed his fist on the table, spitting almost onto the face of the person opposite him. "The Prime Minister's Office issued the ban just a few days ago? And this kind of thing has already happened?"

"Do you think the emperor is far away? Do you think those rural scandals will never reach the capital? Do you think that once you've secured your position, you can rest on your laurels and live a life of ease?!"

"Where's your conduct?! Where's your discipline?! Have you all been fed to the dogs?!"

"If you don't want to work here, then report me and get the hell out of here right now! The police force doesn't need a few useless people like you who hold positions without doing any work!"

"If you let a dog out, they'll bark twice."

That was a rather harsh statement, but no one dared to refute it.

Exhausted from venting his anger, Minister Robert braced his hands on the table, his chest heaving violently.

His gaze shifted to the first seat on his left, where the First Deputy Chief of Police, Hernandez, who remained silent but whose eyes held a similarly grave expression, was also in charge of major criminal cases.

"Hernandez".

Hernandez immediately stood up, his body ramrod straight: "Minister!"

Secretary Robert stared at him and ordered, word by word, "You, personally lead the most elite major crimes unit from headquarters to that damned town in Michoacán immediately. I don't care who's involved, what family or power they have behind them, every single thug involved in the crime, every single local cop who's neglected their duty, covered it up, or accepted bribes—dig them all out!"

"I need you to be there and make this case airtight! The evidence must be conclusive, the procedures must be legal, but it has to be fast. I want to see the main culprit arrested within a week and the preliminary judicial process completed within a month!"

He paused, then lowered his voice, "If you can't handle Hernandez, you don't need to come back. Find a rope and hang yourself in the town square."

General Hernandez showed no hesitation. He snapped to attention, gave a crisp military salute, and spoke in a loud and firm voice:
"Yes, Minister! I guarantee the mission will be accomplished!"

Bill's expression softened slightly as he looked at the others. "Next, we'll be conducting a comprehensive overhaul. You'll all be stationed at each branch office!"

"Yes, Director."

Seeing Bill return with his fiery temper, no one dared to complain.

Are people who want to become officials hard to find?
There are tons of them.

……

Belize, temporary office.

The grief over Ma Guoming's sacrifice had not yet subsided, and the intense work and the lack of progress in Canadian intelligence brought the atmosphere in the task force to a freezing point.

Li Wenbin's eyes were bloodshot, and his beard was unshaven. He had been silent for a long time staring at the connection between Ye Jinghua and the Hell Angels on the whiteboard, his fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

"Boss, why don't you go and take a rest? We'll keep an eye on things here," a team member couldn't help but advise.

Li Wenbin waved his hand, about to say something, when the office door was pushed open with a "bang" and Zheng Chuyao rushed in.

"Li Sir!" Her voice trembled slightly with nervousness.

All eyes immediately turned to her.

Li Wenbin's heart tightened, and that ominous premonition resurfaced: "Chu Yao, what's wrong? Is there any news from Canada?"

Zheng Chuyao shook her head vigorously.

"A top-secret report just came from Hong Kong: someone has issued a bounty on us in the European black market!"

Li Wenbin's pupils suddenly contracted as he took the paper papers handed to him by the other party.

The prices are all marked on the page.

Li Wenbin (Chief Commander of the Task Force) – $100 million

Zheng Chuyao (Chief Intelligence Analyst) – $80

Chen Zilong (Action Team Leader) – $50

He Jiabao (Financial Tracking Expert) – $50

Liu Jianming (Logistics and Liaison) - US$30

……

The list includes almost all of the core members of the task force in Belize.

"boom!"

Li Wenbin slammed his fist on the metal filing cabinet next to him, making a loud noise, and the cabinet door dented instantly.

"How did they know our list?! They even knew our specific responsibilities and their importance?!"

He turned his head sharply, his eyes scanning every shocked face in the office.

"Our internal organizational structure and personnel division of labor are highly confidential. Even at our headquarters in Hong Kong, only a limited number of people know about them!"

"The traitor..."

A chilling word rose in the minds of almost all the group members at the same time.

Li Wenbin took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

"See? This is designed to make it impossible for us to move an inch, to disintegrate us from within. 100 million for my life? Fine, take it!"

He paused, then scanned the crowd again:
"From this moment forward, everyone's security alert level is raised to the highest level! No one is allowed to act alone without my permission. All communication devices will undergo a double encryption check, and any external communications must be supervised by at least two people present!"

He looked at Zheng Chuyao and said, "Immediately report this matter to the highest level of the Hong Kong headquarters in my name and apply for an internal security review. I need to know exactly where this list was leaked from!"

“Yes, Inspector Li!” Zheng Chuyao nodded vigorously.

"Could it be that the Mexicans leaked it?" Team leader Chen Zilong asked in a low voice.

He was a big, burly man who had served in the Flying Tigers and was the muscle officer of the Major Crimes Unit.

Upon hearing his words, everyone immediately fell silent.

In fact, they really preferred to believe it was Mexican; they couldn't possibly believe it was someone from their own serious crimes unit.
Once the seed of doubt is planted, it becomes a time bomb that could explode at any moment.

If the explosion happens, the people in the Major Crimes Unit will be doomed.

Just as everyone was quiet, there was a knock on the door, followed by the voice of Belize Chief of Staff Schultz, "Lee."

Li Wenbin looked at them, his eyes flashing, and frowned. "Don't talk nonsense. Without any evidence, you can't doubt our comrades, understand?"

Everyone looked at each other, then nodded.

But the atmosphere was clearly off.

……

(End of this chapter)