Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 713 Destruction is never just military.

In a canyon outside Mexico City.

This place is sparsely populated and is a military firing range.

Dozens of Secret Service bodyguards in suits were scattered on high points around the canyon, vigilantly monitoring every direction.

Of course, whether there are actually any people hiding in the mountains is unknown...

Victor and Casare got out of the car, seemingly in good spirits, with smiles even on their lips.

About fifty meters away from them, a dozen people were bound to crosses with their hands behind their backs and their mouths gagged, like livestock to be slaughtered.

Most of them are suspected of being smuggled organ dregs.

According to Viktor, "It's a waste for them to die anyway, so we might as well make use of them, practice our skills, and hear the sound they make."

A bodyguard jogged over and handed Viktor a gleaming pistol with both hands.

Viktor took it, skillfully inspected the magazine, and then cocked it with a "click".

He turned his head and smiled at Casare beside him, "Since we're just killing time anyway, how about a game?"

Casare looked at the "targets" in the distance, struggling frantically and emitting muffled whimpers out of extreme fear, and habitually put on a smile: "Boss, you decide. How do we compete?"

"Same rules as always, one magazine of bullets, see who takes down the most, the fastest wins, the loser treats to dinner tonight, the location is up to the winner."

“Okay.” Casare nodded with a smile and took a pistol of the same model from the bodyguard.

Viktor stepped forward and stood on the designated firing line.

He was tall and imposing, and his military uniform made him even more so.

Beside him, Rohus Misch, the Deputy Director of the Secret Service and Chief of Staff, held a stopwatch in his hand.

"start!"

As Rohus's voice fell, Victor raised his hand and fired. He didn't aim deliberately; his movements were fluid and swift.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Gunshots rang out one after another. In the distance, the criminals who were being used as targets instantly erupted into chaos. Some desperately curled up backward, some tried to roll away in despair, and some were so frightened that they collapsed to the ground, defecating and urinating, their sobs and groans drowned out by the gunfire.

The magazine of bullets was quickly emptied, and the crisp sound of the empty magazine being pulled over rang out.

Rohus Misch simultaneously pressed the stopwatch and announced a time. On the other side, a bodyguard responsible for reporting the hits ran over to check and then reported via walkie-talkie: "Report! Eight people were hit, four of whom died on the spot, and four were hit in non-lethal areas."

Viktor chuckled, seemingly quite satisfied with the result. He patted Casare on the shoulder: "You're still getting used to it, don't be nervous, just relax and play, consider it a way to relieve stress."

Casare smiled and said, "Boss, no matter how much I train, I can't beat you."

Just then, Rojus Misch's walkie-talkie rang again. He listened for a moment, then quickly walked to Victor's side and whispered, "Sir, Mr. Hummels, the president of the Mexican National Commercial Council, has arrived."

"Oh? Let him come over."

A short while later, a middle-aged man with a broad build and a rather honest and upright appearance walked over in a hurry.

He is none other than Hummels, the current president of the Mexican National Business Council.

He also has a sensitive identity: he is the cousin of former President Kwaukmote.

Since Ukmote's defeat in the political struggle and subsequent house arrest, Hummels, a businessman who rose to power through his cousin's connections, has managed to retain some of his businesses and this nominal position, but he has been living on thin ice. In particular, being suddenly summoned to this place by Viktor made him even more uneasy, and his back was instantly soaked with cold sweat.

He is indeed not clean, especially in the past few years of rapid development in the real estate industry. Relying on his past connections and methods, he has done a lot of shady things.

Whose first pot of gold was clean?
He cautiously approached, forcing a respectful smile, and bowed slightly: "Mr. Victor, you wanted to see me?"

Viktor was changing the magazine on his pistol with his head down, not even looking up, and asked casually, "Hummels, you've made quite a bit of money in the real estate industry lately, haven't you? I heard that house prices in Mexico City are several times higher than they were a few years ago."

Hummels felt a sudden jolt, but he forced himself to remain calm. "With national stability and economic development, the real estate market has indeed become more active. I'm just... just following the policies."

"Is that so?" Viktor finally finished changing the magazine. He pulled the slide, chambered a bullet, and then slowly raised his head to look at Hummels, still smiling. "But recently I've received quite a few real-name reports saying that you're using your position to organize a criminal gang and control sand pits and ports in several states, preventing anyone but your own people from dredging sand and unloading cargo? They also say that you've used old connections to embezzle a lot of national assets?"

"Slander! This is absolutely slander!"

Hummels hurriedly waved his hands, "Sir! You must investigate this thoroughly! I, Hummels, am utterly loyal to you and to the current government, and I would never dare to do anything illegal, disorderly, or that would harm the national interest! This must be someone who is jealous and deliberately trying to frame me!"

He argued passionately, large beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

Viktor just watched him quietly, listening to him repeatedly plead his innocence, his face expressionless.

When Hummels's throat was dry and his voice gradually faded, leaving only heavy breathing, Viktor asked calmly, "That's it? That's all?"

Hummels was taken aback, opened his mouth, but in the end he could only nod vigorously, emphasizing with a sob in his voice, "Sir, I am truly innocent! I am loyal to you."

"Yes, loyalty is all that matters." Viktor nodded, seemingly accepting the statement.

He casually took a Polaroid camera from a bodyguard next to him, handed it to Hummels, and then gestured with his chin to the "targets" in the distance. "Go, do me a favor, run over there and take some close-up photos of those who are still alive. I want to see how they turn out."

Hummels was stunned, completely bewildered by Viktor's intentions. But he dared not disobey Viktor's orders, so he could only tremble as he took the camera, glance at the bloody scene in the distance, and, suppressing his fear and nausea, jog towards it.

Watching his retreating figure, Viktor's smile gradually faded. He raised his pistol again and aimed it at Hummels's increasingly distant back.

Casare and Rohus both held their breath.

"boom!"

The first bullet struck the ground next to Hummels' heel, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Hummels let out a scream in fright and ran even faster, his posture utterly disheveled.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Bullets were fired one after another, landing precisely to Hummels' left, right and in front of him, forcing him to dart around like a headless fly, yelling and screaming.

The magazine was emptied again.

Hummels had collapsed not far from the target, clutching his head, his body trembling like a leaf.

Viktor lowered his gun, looked at Hummels' cowardly appearance, and curled his lip in disdain.

It was the bodyguards who pulled him back.

He habitually used his "golden finger" to sweep at Hummels, who was lying on the ground.

Originally, Victor just wanted to find out the extent to which this guy had embezzled state assets.

However, upon scanning, an unexpected piece of information was instantly revealed.

He surprisingly has deep connections with Onsa Capital, which is still putting up a stubborn resistance in the United States.

This is too much!
Viktor made it clear that doing business with these people was forbidden because anti-Viktor sentiment was particularly high within the Onsa Group.

He turned to Hummels, who was slumped on the ground, and said in a seemingly casual tone, "Hummels, how are your business deals with those old friends in Boston going? How reliable is the political asylum they've promised you?"

Hummels, who was sprawled on the ground, suddenly stiffened. He abruptly raised his head and looked in Viktor's direction, his face somewhat grim.

This reaction says it all.

Because of his cousin's situation, he knew his position was unstable. He couldn't sleep at night and was on the verge of a mental breakdown. He wanted to run away and had already secretly "laundered" some of his assets. As long as he could make money, he could live a carefree life.

But the financial regulators are keeping a close eye on these people. Just these last couple of days, he'd already contacted the smugglers, and then Viktor called him over.

"So that explains why they were so bold."

Viktor stopped talking and casually tossed the empty pistol to the bodyguard next to him. Then he took a loaded MP5 submachine gun from another bodyguard.

He raised his gun, the dark muzzle pointed at him.

“Da da da da da——!!!”

The MP5's dense barrage of bullets poured out like a sudden rain, instantly engulfing Hummels and the land around him.

His body trembled from the kinetic energy of the bullet.

Victor handed the empty submachine gun back to the bodyguard with a blank expression, as if he had just casually crushed an insect.

He turned to Casare, who stood beside him with a grave expression, and said, "See? The cancer in the business world is sometimes more deserving of death and more insidious than an enemy with a gun."

He patted Casare's arm: "That's how you clean house."

Casare's Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily, and he nodded quickly: "Yes, boss, I understand."

"I haven't done it myself in a long time; they all think I've been practicing Buddhism."

Viktor lit a cigarette, his eyes fierce. "They don't dare to come at us head-on, so they try every means to ruin our hard-won life. Damn it, kill them."

The ideologies of Europe and America cannot be changed in a short period of time. A country has too many positions; you can't put all of them in your own people.

Just like Hummels' position as president of the National Business Council, it's basically about serving a bunch of people, but in the end…

He will only direct his greed toward his country.

Capital has no state!

Moreover, despite Victor's fierce appearance, many people would rather you go to Europe than do business in Mexico.

Mexico's GDP growth has begun to decline slowly, and it is facing all the problems that military governments have faced: economic decline.

When everyone is starving and society becomes increasingly hostile, even if Viktor has the Tsar, it won't be of any use.

Look at Jeon Jung-soo and Park Jung-soo...

If Roosevelt hadn't stimulated the economy and robbed the rich to help the poor, America would probably have collapsed long ago.

Capital has no state.

……

Belize.

Director Schultz was invited into Li Wenbin's office. As soon as he stepped inside, he keenly sensed an unusual solemnity and oppression in the air.

"Li, what happened?"

"Everyone looked unwell."

The group members exchanged glances, but no one spoke first, and the atmosphere became so awkward it almost froze.

Li Wenbin took a deep breath, his face showing a calm that came after suppressed emotions. He walked up to Schultz and handed him the crumpled piece of paper with the wanted list written on it. "Chief, take a look for yourself."

Schultz took the paper with a puzzled look, his eyes quickly scanning the contents.

He showed genuine shock and nervousness.

"Where did this come from?!" The tone became extremely serious. "From within! There's a mole within your ranks!"

These words were like a boulder thrown into a calm lake. Although everyone had already guessed what was going on, Schultz's blunt remark still made everyone's hearts sink and the atmosphere become even more tense.

"Chief Schultz!"

Li Wenbin stepped forward, his voice low but his gaze firm as he looked at Schultz. "My team members are all rigorously selected elites. They came here with me from Hong Kong, and I trust in the professional ethics and high moral standards of each and every one of them! I don't want to hear any unfounded speculation before there is any evidence!"

His protectiveness touched the eyes of some of his team members behind him.

The team leader, Chen Zilong, looked rather grim and quickly lowered his head.

Schultz was taken aback by Li Wenbin's tough stance. Finally, the muscles on his face relaxed a little, and he slowly nodded, his tone softening slightly: "Li, I understand your feelings, and I believe in you and your team. No one can accept something like this happening. I will immediately order that the security of your task force's base and all its members be strengthened to the highest level."

He paused, then glanced at everyone again with a formulaic concern: "Please be careful and try to minimize unnecessary outings during this period."

After saying that, he seemed to remember something, turned to Li Wenbin, and lowered his voice: "Li, there's something I need to discuss with you privately." He gestured to the small cubicle in the office.

Li Wenbin nodded, told his team members to "continue working and stay vigilant," and then followed Schultz into the small room that was being used as a temporary confidential meeting room.

The door was closed gently, cutting off any sight or sound from outside. The small room contained only a table and two chairs.

Schultz took out a cigarette case from his pocket, lit one for himself, and then handed it to Li Wenbin.

Li Wenbin hesitated for a moment when he saw the cigarette offered to him, but still took it. He lit it with the lighter Schultz handed him, took a deep drag, and the pungent smoke filled his lungs, seemingly relieving some of his tense nerves.

“Ye Jinghua from Canada,” Schultz exhaled a smoke ring, lowering his voice even further, “has run away.”

"What?!" Li Wenbin's fingers, holding the cigarette, froze. He abruptly looked up, his eyes instantly bloodshot. "When did this happen? How did they escape? What are the Canadian police doing?!"

“The specific details are still unclear, and the source of the information is not exactly honorable.” Schultz’s face showed a hint of embarrassment and helplessness. “It was a deputy defense minister in Canada who let it slip while chatting with his mistress in bed, and the mistress inadvertently leaked it. We just got this information through special channels.”

"Damn it! Absolutely a shoddy operation! A bunch of useless trash!"

Li Wenbin could no longer hold back and cursed under his breath. He slammed his fist against the wall next to him, making a dull thud. He felt a surge of anger burning wildly in his chest. Ma Guoming's sacrifice, the stalled investigation, the internal bounty, and now the escape of the main target... all of this brought him to the brink of explosion.

Schultz waited until he finished ranting and calmed down a bit before continuing, "Li, calm down. Getting angry won't solve anything. I'm telling you this so you're aware that Ye Jinghua's escape means our opponents are more cunning and potentially more powerful than we thought."

He looked at Li Wenbin meaningfully: "Combined with the bounty notice outside just now, I have reason to believe that the organizational structure and information of your Hong Kong Serious Crimes Unit have definitely been intentionally leaked. This is not a simple leak; this is an attempt to destroy you."

Li Wenbin silently smoked his cigarette, his expression shifting between light and shadow amidst the swirling smoke.

Schultz observed his expression, leaning forward slightly. "Li, I will formally submit an application to higher authorities, including your Hong Kong headquarters, requesting that the internal affairs department intervene in the investigation. If possible, I even think it is necessary to conduct a thorough background check and lie detector test on all members of your task force."

"A lie detector test?" Upon hearing this, Li Wenbin frowned deeply, his face showing obvious resistance. "Director Schultz, this will affect morale! My team members are working so hard, and to put them on a lie detector test now is like stabbing them in the back! It's a sign of distrust!"

“Lee!” Schultz’s tone became more serious. “You don’t want to have a ticking time bomb planted within your ranks, do you? Drug enforcement is a life-or-death job! Any negligence could cost you your life!”

He stared into Li Wenbin's eyes and said, word by word, "A lie detector test is not to suspect anyone, but to eliminate suspicion, prove innocence, allow truly clean people to work with peace of mind, and expose the rat hiding in the shadows! This is to protect the majority of loyal comrades, and it is also a price that must be paid to advance the case!"

Li Wenbin opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and stubbed out the remaining cigarette butt in the ashtray. The smoke slowly escaped from his nostrils.

Schultz looked at him, knowing his words had worked. He patted Li Wenbin on the shoulder and softened his tone, "I will arrange this as soon as possible. Until then, keep your team stable, Li. The enemy we face is more treacherous than we imagined."

After saying that, Schultz said no more, turned around, opened the door to the cubicle, and walked out.

At the doorway, he paused and said softly, "Victory will always belong to us. We have defeated too many people."

"Glory to Mexico! Glory to all mankind!"

……

(End of this chapter)