Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 163 I'm boosting my K/D for Boeing
the next day.

Milton got up early in the morning and ate breakfast while watching the news on TV.

Mexico is no small country, and it is close to the United States. With Milton deliberately leaking the news, the news of two aerial bombs exploding in the city immediately made headlines in international news around the world.

The scene is filled with a lot of material in Milton's hands.

Police officers lay on the ground, women and children weeping over their "corpses"; without a word, the rioters threw explosives at the restrained officers, causing massive casualties...

The arrogant scene of drug traffickers detonating aerial bombs in an attempt to prevent the news from leaking.

After violently storming a prison and shooting a politician who was fighting drug trafficking, they immediately turned around and released poison gas, killing everyone in an entire theater... They even released the video as a deterrent, it's almost like they're declaring war on the whole world.

Even in this relatively conservative era, when the allure of journalism had not yet been fully realized, the host used extremely strong condemnation to describe this horrific act.

Even from her own tone and expression, she was shocked by the drug cartel's actions.

“That’s true,” Milton muttered to himself. “Judging from these images, to outsiders, drug cartels seem invincible now, beating up local police and military personnel and killing whomever they want. They probably see police officers’ corpses on the streets every day, right?”

In fact, the situation in Tapachula is now completely reversed.

Those who were beaten to the point of unbearable pain lived in constant fear, and every day people were dragged out, beaten to death, and thrown into the street—these were members of drug cartels.

However, most people who read the news don't actually come to see the real situation.

One can imagine what kind of emotions normal people who see this news feel towards drug cartels right now...

Milton nodded with great satisfaction and took a bite of the hash brown.

Just then, there was a knock on the office door.

A weak, feeble voice asked, "...'Tax collector,' are you there?"

"Flora, come in."

Flora pushed open the door, found a chair and sat down: "Ugh, I'm exhausted."

"Enough with the nonsense, have you come up with an attack plan? Have you decided what equipment you need?"

"It's almost finalized," Flora nodded. "The prerequisite is that the information you provide is relatively accurate; otherwise, unexpected problems are very likely to occur."

She paused for a moment, then added, "We need night vision equipment, we need parachutes, are those all ready?"

"Don't worry, my intelligence is always very accurate," Milton nodded. "And we have whatever equipment you need."

"it is good."

Flora nodded, sat down next to Milton, took out the documents and map she was holding and placed them on the table, pointing to a point on the map.

"According to your intelligence, the Juarez Group's plane will take off from the airport located here on the morning of the 11th."

"To maintain secrecy, airports are kept dark at night due to poor visibility. Most security personnel are focused on protecting their cargo, airport facilities, and fuel depots, with relatively little protection for the aircraft themselves. There may only be one or two patrol teams patrolling near the runway."

"This information was deduced by our scouts and informants based on the makeshift airfield they built in Tapachula."

Guarding a fixed building with few entrances and exits is much easier than protecting the plane itself—after all, no one can take the plane away if it runs out of fuel.

The drug traffickers didn't believe anyone would dare to sabotage their plane.

Milton nodded slightly: "So, what do we do next?"

"There are four people in the operation. Bring your equipment and hide in the cargo hold beforehand. This plane uses mechanical locks, so we need to bring a lock-picking expert from the police station with us. Here is the list of lock-picking equipment he needs. Make sure you have it ready in advance."

"Next, it all depends on luck."

Milton asked curiously, "Luck?"

“Yes.” Flora nodded. “The plane is only so big, and the cargo hold has limited space. Even if you hide very well, it’s hard to say you won’t be discovered at all. I would like to hide in the cargo and board the plane together, but there are definitely a lot of guards there, and it would be easy to alert them.”

"We have two contingency plans. If we are not detected, we will proceed as planned and hijack the plane in the air after it takes off."

"If discovered, act immediately, take Amado's brother hostage, kill the others, and forcibly take control of the plane."

"It is highly probable that we will be exposed before takeoff."

"Because we'll have to hide, and there are very few places to hide. At most, we can hide in the corners of the cargo hold, the kitchen, or the warehouse... To be honest, there's a high chance of being exposed there."

"So, let's not even think about hiding forever. The only thing we need to hide is the parachute."

"As long as Amado believes that we don't have parachutes, don't want to die, and just want the plane and the cargo on it, he won't attack us with missiles—he and his brother still have a pretty good relationship."

Milton knew she was right, so he nodded and said, "Good. Have someone bring over some containers today to do a little simulation. We don't want to be caught off guard later."

Flora's eyes widened slightly at Milton's attitude: "You're going to do it yourself?"

“Of course.” Milton was not about to miss out on such a good opportunity to boost Boeing’s record. “I have a feeling that today’s operation may, to some extent, be recorded in history.”

“Yes, using a passenger plane to crash into a building, you really have an amazing imagination!” Flora nodded. “Anyway, you couldn’t have imagined doing that even if you racked your brains. I don’t think anyone will ever do it again, and even if they do, it’ll probably be based on your case.”

No, I referenced the cases of later generations...

Milton muttered to himself, stood up, went to the window, and looked in one direction.

Flora followed, looking in the same direction for several seconds, searching for the corpse for a while. After confirming there was none, she asked blankly, "What are you looking at? I didn't know you liked looking at scenery?"

Could it be that Milton harbors an artist within him?

Milton looked away and explained calmly, "I'm looking at a building that will soon be discontinued. If I don't take a look now, I won't be able to see it again."

"A building that will soon be unavailable?" Flora was confused for several seconds before realizing what Milton was talking about. "You, you really... Hahaha! 'Tax Collector,' you have a good sense of humor sometimes."

“Remember to have Olya’s team prepare properly.” Milton looked away. “The Juarez Cartel was enraged because they suffered some losses while trafficking drugs in Tapachula. They sent a plane to crash into a local residential building as retaliation—this horrific scene must be shown to the whole world.”

Flora nodded: "Now Amado is going to become the world's number one super terrorist."

Just as the two were chatting, Milton suddenly saw two trucks coming out from around the corner not far across the street.

They're heading towards the police station!
This is?

Could it be a car bomb?
How powerful must the bomb on that truck be? Why was there no prior intelligence about it?
"Watch out!" Milton didn't think twice, pulling Flora back and shouting into the walkie-talkie, "Two unidentified trucks are coming this way, stop them!"

Before Milton could even warn them, the officers who had been secretly keeping watch nearby rushed forward. The roadblocks and tire deflation devices that had been prepared were pulled out, and several bulletproof police cars blocked the intersection.

The sentries on guard duty charged forward fearlessly, guns raised and shouting, "Stop! I order you to stop immediately! If you move even a fraction of an inch, I guarantee you'll be riddled with bullets in the next second!!!"

"The rest of you, continue guarding the crossroads, watch out for the enemy."

The officers and soldiers knew that from their current position, if the truck bomb were detonated, there would be no survivors.

But the police station can be saved, and the "benevolent father," the chief, and the congressman can live!

Just as everyone was bracing for an explosion, the two trucks actually stopped.

The driver readily raised his hand, and the tense atmosphere eased slightly after the police officers rushed forward and removed their car keys.

But the officers remained vigilant, pointing their guns at the driver in the car, and demanded, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The driver and passenger in the truck didn't look like locals. They were so frightened that they raised their hands and shouted, "Wait... gentlemen, please calm down, please calm down! Look at our truck's paint job! We're here for humanitarian aid. The truck is loaded with humanitarian relief supplies, not any contraband!"

The passenger in the front seat was also dumbfounded. He raised his hands and said, "The documents are in the glove compartment. Everything came from airport customs. You can check the documents and also go to the back to inspect the cargo... I swear I'm telling the truth!"

A woman in another truck exclaimed, "My God... the police officers here are so tense! What have those horrible drug dealers done to them?"

The officers held back their complaints—it wasn't that the drug dealers had done anything to them, but rather that they had been too harsh on the drug dealers and were worried about retaliation.

After carefully inspecting the truck from top to bottom and confirming that there were no dangerous goods inside, the officers finally relaxed their guard a little.

They directed the trucks to park in an open area some distance away, while police vehicles brought the supplies over.

Milton also came down below, and looking at the supplies on the open ground, he felt an unprecedented sense of "magic".

The supplies delivered included food, drinks, clothing, tents, protective gear, and a lot of first aid supplies and medicines, all of which looked quite valuable.

The woman actually got out of the car, looked at Milton apologetically, and said, "I'm so sorry, we came in such a hurry, we didn't think to inform you... If it were me, I would also be very nervous."

"Those drug dealers are really too much, doing so many horrific things... We don't have much to buy, but we hope this can help you."

There was an undeniable naiveté in their eyes, leaving Milton momentarily speechless, unsure where to begin his critique.

The way they framed the drug dealers seems a bit too much... They even managed to get international humanitarian aid, didn't they?

Milton remained silent for a while before saying in a very formulaic way, "Thank you for your help with the anti-drug cause, um... at least let me know who you are?"

“We’re members of a small charity. After seeing the news, we quickly raised money to buy some supplies and chartered a plane to send them over,” the woman introduced herself enthusiastically. “This donation mainly came from Ms. Angelina Jolie… I’m sorry, you may not have heard of her…”

However, Milton had indeed heard of this name.

In 1994, she was indeed just an unknown, ordinary actress.

However, she later achieved great success in Hollywood, winning an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress and being nominated for an Oscar for Best Actress.

As someone who exposed Japan's atrocities during World War II and dared to publicly condemn Israel, Milton's impression of her was barely acceptable, aside from her stupidity.

We shouldn't let free supplies slip by... Although Milton isn't exactly short of supplies, the more of these things we have, the better.

Milton, while instructing his men to pack up the supplies, said somewhat guiltily, "Yes, those drug dealers are too brutal. Our work has been very difficult, with heavy casualties... These supplies have been a great help. Thank you, haha!"

We must play the role of "victim" well...

The woman nodded seriously, looked at the police station, then looked around, and suddenly saw the "capitalist" sign hanging on a street lamp.

"that is?"

Milton's expression changed, and he immediately explained seriously, "He's a drug abuser, a poor wretch who's been persecuted by drug dealers. We're helping him quit... Well, it's a new type of drug that's very difficult to quit, requiring some special methods. We're all professionals, there won't be any problems."

After explaining, Milton quickly and quietly instructed one of the officers next to him to drag the capitalist away and hang him somewhere else.

The woman immediately believed it, and nodded in sudden realization: "I see, drug dealers are really harmful. A perfectly good person has become like this."

"Yes, that's right, that's exactly it."

Milton was about to nod and invite the men over for dinner when a police car suddenly pulled up in the distance—it was the squad that had just gone out to arrest drug dealers.

The armored car, which looked very valuable and expensive, and was in excellent condition, made a stylish tailspin and came to a stop.

Immediately afterwards, the door of the police car opened, and several fully armed police officers, whose equipment alone exuded an air of "expensiveness," jumped out.

At the same time, he pulled two drug dealers, who were covered in injuries and tattered clothes and reeking of a foul odor, out of the car and swung them hard with his baton, beating them until they covered their heads and begged for mercy.

A look of confusion crossed the woman's face as she asked, "What is this?"

Milton nearly broke out in a cold sweat—this was an emergency operation Milton had arranged to beat a drowning dog after learning from yesterday's interrogation of Carmen that the Gulf Group planned to flee the community.

Want to evacuate?

It’s not that simple.

Don't even think about leaving without taking a few lives.

Tom Milton's neighborhood was filled with horror and a stench that filled the air. The drug dealers were living in dire straits, and morale was extremely low.

Well-equipped and well-fed police officers came to their door and were sure to hit them every time.

The only minor problem is that the scene doesn't quite match Milton's description—where was the promised rampant drug dealers and the police's repeated defeats?
He looks like a drug dealer now, barely alive.
Milton first gave the officers a wink, then put on a sorrowful expression and said, "These people are terrible drug dealers, they're from the Gulf Cartel. Have you seen the news? Those terrorist attacks were their doing... We sent out our elite police force to capture them, and only a few have returned... The losses are too heavy, alas."

The woman nodded in realization: "You are the real heroes!"

Chief Omar was shrewd; he had already figured it out and had stepped aside to give orders to his men via walkie-talkie.

Hide away those ridiculously expensive pieces of equipment, find some old clothes to wear, and everyone should put on a slightly forlorn expression.

If you really can't pretend, just hide in the toilet.

Hide all the good stuff from the cafeteria, leaving only potatoes, and preferably find a few moldy potatoes from the trash can to put on top.

What if we accidentally discover our flaws and then stop providing free international humanitarian aid?
At this point, you should act as pitiful as possible.

The police department acted swiftly.

Although these people felt that something was amiss—for example, the police station was very clean; for example, the shabby canteen had a lingering, suspicious smell of meat; for example, a police officer wearing old clothes was wearing a pair of very expensive tactical boots…etc.

But overall, the police department does seem to be having a tough time.

Before the group left to catch their flight back, a few poorly equipped and disheveled police officers caught drug dealers again—some drug dealers who, despite being filthy and messy, were inexplicably wearing a bunch of mismatched jewelry.

What's somewhat strange is that these drug dealers, who were caught and had bruised and swollen faces, didn't show fear or ruthlessness, only deep confusion.

But it doesn't matter.

The woman gained a profound understanding of the police's predicament and the drug traffickers' power!
In order to get these old men away as quickly as possible and prevent them from seeing anything they shouldn't see, Milton decided to simply use a police car to take them back to the airport.

Milton, sitting in the car, remarked, "Look at them, they're the city's drug dealers. They use the money they make from killing people to buy so many trinkets!"

"It's hateful!" the woman said, her voice trembling. "You... um, can you succeed? Isn't the enemy a bit too strong? We'll send more supplies, you must hold on, you must defeat them!"

Flora looked out the window, her cheeks twitching occasionally, as if she were grieving for the police officers who were sacrificing their lives every day.

Milton knew she was actually suppressing a laugh, his lips twitched slightly, and he said, "Don't worry, we will fight to the last man. We will not give up until victory comes..."

The fight continued until only one drug dealer remained...

“I thought it would be very violent here, with gunfights everywhere,” the woman remarked. “But it seems the security is actually quite good. You guys are really brave. If it were me, seeing drug dealers shoot a senator in the street, I… I might have screamed or cried.”

Milton was barely keeping up the act, so he comforted them, "It's alright, as long as the supplies have arrived. You're all kind enough, that's enough."

"I'm just happy to be able to help you..."

"Perhaps I've found inspiration, or perhaps my next work will be based on this place."

"If I can make a good movie, maybe it will make more people aware of how terrible drug dealers are, and maybe it will help you a lot?"

“I saw the real Mexico… I believe this scene can touch many people!”

"..."

From the car to the airport, the woman kept rambling on and on.

Even as she was about to board the plane and leave, she felt a little reluctant to part and wanted to say a few more words.

The great "benevolent father" Mr. Milton was truly alarmed at this moment, enough to scare drug dealers so much they couldn't sleep at night.

This woman talks too much; he's about to miss his flight to Juarez!
Milton was eager to boost Boeing's track record.

Watching her board the plane, Milton didn't want to waste a second. He immediately turned around and walked out of the airport with Flora—they were going to pretend to leave, disguise themselves slightly, and then enter the terminal through a special passage to fly to Juarez.

"Holy crap, they're finally gone!"

"Hahahaha!!!" Flora, who had been holding back her laughter the whole way, finally burst out laughing. "I'm serious, these 'tax collectors' are just people who have grown up in a peaceful environment. If it were anyone else, they would have exposed them in no time!"

"I'd rather deal with a few more drug dealers..."

"There's nothing we can do. There are actually quite a few people like this in developed countries in Europe and America. They are kind, but they're a bit slow on the uptake... Maybe she just flew here after praying to God at some Catholic holy site?"

Milton put on his hat, made sure no one was following him, and confirmed that the police cars had left the airport with the mannequins before using his key to open the door to the staff entrance and entering the terminal.

He then said coldly, "I don't believe she's from Vietnam."

Flora thought for a moment, then asked uncertainly, "Uh? Is Vietnam a Catholic holy site?"

“I think so,” Milton said casually, “because many Americans meet their maker as soon as they get there.”

"Holy crap, you're telling another hellish joke with such a straight face... Hahaha!" Flora laughed. "I've suddenly realized that you go all out whenever the topic of religion comes up."

Because I am a warrior of materialism...

Milton didn't answer the question. He walked straight to a shuttle car with all its windows opaque, opened the door, and got in with the others.

To avoid being recognized as much as possible, Milton arranged for his people to book first-class tickets—the kind with a "small cabin" and a partition that could be drawn up.

Let's set off for Juarez!
The Juarez Group and the "King of the Sky" deserve a little Milton shock.

P.S.: Ugh, I can't live anymore after the May Day holiday, I'm having withdrawal symptoms!

Multiple female leads, no stock market speculation, happy ending harem novel, not a simp story.

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(End of this chapter)