Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 219 Digging a Tunnel

"What?" Milton paused in his tracks upon hearing this. "The other side has started firing bullets in our direction?"

The adjutant quickly shook his head: "That can't be... It must have been some stray bullets that flew over when the other side was fighting."

Brandon frowned as he listened: "You didn't understand what Mr. 'The Godfather' meant. He meant that no matter how the bullet came from, it was fired maliciously by the enemy."

Milton: "..."

The adjutant suddenly realized what had happened and quickly corrected himself: "I'm sorry, our investigation was flawed... The truth is, the vicious enemy launched a shameless sneak attack on us, causing dangerous bullets to land on our safe territory, which is outrageous."

Seeing that his image was beyond repair, Milton finally gave up on explaining: "Alright, stop being so clever, hurry up and drive. Tell us the details later—I need to know at least who the enemy is."

"it is good!"

The convoy continued on its way at a moderate speed, the driver seemingly intending to show Milton the reconstruction and order that Vevetnango had achieved after the war.

This was Milton's first time in the city, and he didn't know when he would be able to come again. He had to take this opportunity to show the spirit of their former rebel-occupied territory.

At this moment, motorcycles led the way in front of the convoy, and a whole row of cars drove slowly behind, preventing any following vehicles from getting too close.

“There’s no need for such a grand ceremony.” Milton seemed a little uncomfortable. “Keep it simple. I’m not here for an inspection.”

The main problem is that the panel shows there are no enemies here. Making a big fuss will only cost him his own money in the end. It's heartbreaking to think about spending money on something like this.

“The city has just settled down, and we’ve arrested quite a few people who smuggled themselves in from Mexico, so it’s not very safe right now,” the adjutant quickly explained, then pointed to the street. “Look, so many people are welcoming you, but there might be some drug dealers among them who want to take advantage of the chaos.”

Milton didn't say anything more, and glanced out the car window.

This city, whose majority population is Mayan, is indeed very different from Quetzaltenango.

The city was significantly smaller, the architectural style was distinctly different, and the crowds cheering for the motorcade in the streets were not dressed in everyday modern clothing, but rather in clothes worn only for celebrations and festivals.

Men wore loose cotton shirts and trousers, while women wore sleeveless tops with long skirts—all of these clothes were sky blue in color, made primarily of cotton and wool, and featured patterns of birds and plants.

Most importantly, almost everyone wore a hat adorned with trogon feathers.

“There’s no need to do these superficial projects anymore.” Milton looked on with goosebumps. “Instead of wasting time on this, you should work harder and bring me more tax revenue.”

Milton had no desire to be the "sun" or play on a "custom server," so this welcome was completely unnecessary for him.

The adjutant said helplessly, "Sir, this really wasn't our arrangement... You flew over shortly after notifying us, and we couldn't possibly organize a welcoming party of this size in such a short time."

"Local businesses and shops voluntarily took a half-day off, and people also spontaneously went out to welcome you."

Milton looked out the window at the crowd rushing by: "Is it really that exaggerated?"

“Perhaps you think you didn’t do anything…” the adjutant explained earnestly, “but to many residents, you are the true savior, the hero who freed us from the massacre.”

“We have experienced more than 30 years of war, countless people have lost their lives in the war, and the front line has collapsed step by step... You are not a victim, so you may not be able to empathize with the ‘massacre’, but as long as the news of a massacre comes, it will suffocate us for a very long time.”

"The damage caused by a massacre may not be erased for decades... What's even more tragic is that we are powerless to take revenge and can only watch helplessly as the enemy advances step by step."

“Until you appeared.”

"You weren't in Vevetenango on the day of the victory and Lopez's defeat, but the cheers here lasted all night, and everyone was calling your name."

"If you don't believe me, you can shout right now that the front lines are in urgent need of brave warriors... I guarantee that someone from every household will step forward and follow in your footsteps."

"If it weren't for your widespread prohibition against beings becoming spirits, many people would think that you were sent by the gods to save them."

Milton could empathize with her. He paused for a moment, then nodded and said, "I understand... but there's no need to go to such lengths."

The adjutant continued with a sigh, "Many people thought that even if you replaced Lopez as the ruler of this land, you would at most stop the massacre... But they were all wrong. Everyone felt that they were being treated equally."

"It's not an exaggeration, it's really not an exaggeration."

If he continued explaining, Milton feared his adjutant would retort, "You're not allowed to speak ill of Milton..."

Fortunately, the convoy finally left the crowd and arrived at the police station.

Milton opened the door and got out of the car, glanced around briefly, and asked, "So few police cars? Didn't I allocate funds?"

"Many of them were taken to the border by Commander Juan," the adjutant sighed. "Fortunately, the bulletproof vests and guns left over from the war are still here."

Milton walked toward the police station, and people along the way saluted him, forcing him to quicken his pace.

Upon arriving at Juan's office, Milton let his men in, closed the door, and then sat down in Juan's chair, letting out a long sigh of relief.

That frenzied atmosphere was truly terrifying...

"Alright, now tell me, who dares to fire bullets at my land? Tell me his name, how many men he has, what weapons he has."

The adjutant was already familiar with this group that was constantly causing trouble at the border, and replied very quickly: "It's a drug cartel we've never heard of before, the Jalisco New Generation..."

"His name is Nemesio Osegra Cervantes, but everyone is used to calling him Elmencho (the bearded man)."

"Their rise has been so rapid it's almost unbelievable... As far as I know, after the Sinaloa Group suffered heavy losses in Tapachula, they tried to bypass you and operate in Comitan City."

"As a result... before their people could even gain a foothold, they were driven away by Elmenjohn's men."

Milton nodded. "Yes, continue."

The adjutant then continued his report: "The person in charge of logistics is named Julio, Elmencho's son-in-law, nicknamed 'The Shooter.' This is a lead that our officers managed to find after investigating over there."

"Their methods were extremely violent...more violent than any cartel before them; they were a complete bunch of lunatics and mentally ill people."

"The weaponry is also very good—at least better than the equipment of the previous guerrillas. There are guns, grenade launchers, mortars, and even armored cars and helicopters."

“I heard that further away, in the core area of ​​CJNG, they are training a special forces unit called ‘Los Tlacos,’ the kind with heavy weapons.”

Until Milton's reinforcements arrive, the rebels are not as well-equipped as these people!
However, Milton's expression didn't change much—he also knew that this special forces unit would be equipped with drones in the future to carry out bombing missions, which was extremely audacious.

Milton tapped the table and said, "This equipment may even have originated from our side, I mean, from Lopez."

"Let alone selling to drug dealers, during the war, Lopez's army even sold me mortars—an entire artillery battery of mortars."

“My God…” the adjutant exclaimed, “And there are a lot of them. Our people haven’t investigated the exact number yet, but there are at least 200 people gathered in Comitan City right now.”

"This is just a small border town; there are probably even more drug traffickers gathered in Tustra, the capital of Chiapas state."

“What’s even more frightening is that our officers have a vague feeling that, unlike Tapachula, there might not be any fertile ground for drug control there.”

Milton asked calmly, "Why?"

“Because Tapachula has an airport, a port, some basic processing industry, and is an important border city, even if you don’t traffic drugs, you have enough economic foundation to live a good life.”

"But further north... the war has forced many people to grow poppies, because they cannot survive without them."

"Therefore, although 200 people may not seem like a large number, the power they represent is far more than that."

“The honest-looking vendors you see on the street may be drug dealers; the hardworking farmer you see may be growing poppies.”

Milton knew he wasn't lying, so he asked, "So, what's Juan's line of thinking?"

The adjutant said cautiously, "Although there is only one road connecting the two sides, the border is too long. Smugglers will not use the road. They will break up into smaller groups and try to sneak in from other places. We can't send so many people every day to block the border."

"Commander Juan's idea is that the supply loopholes are too large to be controlled, so we need to find a way to control our demand."

"First, legislation should be enacted to severely punish both parties involved in the buying and selling of drugs, with the maximum penalty being the death penalty."

“Establish a strict system for reviewing fund flows and tracking large sums of money of unknown origin; at the same time, set up rewards and bounties, and anyone who can provide clues about drug trafficking will be rewarded.”

That's about it for now.

"Perhaps in the future, when we have a better budget, we can build a simple border wall? It doesn't need to be very well built, just regularly inspected every day so that border enforcement officers know where it has been damaged, and that they will know that drug traffickers have infiltrated."

After listening, Milton commented, "The overall strategy is sound. If it can be implemented effectively, protecting our own territory shouldn't be difficult. At least on our turf, drug dealers won't have a place to survive."

"However, that's only enough for self-preservation."

As soon as he finished speaking, Milton heard the sound of tires screeching on the ground downstairs.

Looking to the side, I saw a police car rushing over and stopping in the parking space.

The tall Juan got out of the car, ran up quickly, and pushed open the office door.

"'Hellish tax collector,' sorry, I just finished working!"

Milton waved for him to sit down: "It's nothing. Your men just reported on how you plan to handle the border situation." Juan nodded to his adjutant, indicating he could leave, then looked at Milton and said with a wry smile: "Yes, my strategy is to protect myself for now... You don't know how much resistance our law enforcement officers are facing."

"For the first time, we felt what Lopez felt—that the whole world and we were the enemy."

“No one in the area is willing to cooperate with our investigation. The local police do nothing but give vague answers. The procedures are all reasonable, but things just won’t progress.”

"The drug problem is so deeply ingrained there that many people take it for granted."

Milton shook his head: "Self-preservation may seem possible in the short term... but in the long term, self-preservation is tantamount to harming oneself."

"A rotten, impoverished, and extremely violent neighbor has turned what should have been a border where both sides could make money into a 'high wall' that both sides have to rack their brains and pay high costs to maintain."

"The border, which could have been a place to collect tariffs, has become my front line against drug traffickers? This is unacceptable."

Juan gave a wry smile: "Well, what can we do?"

"First of all, the poverty in Chiapas is entirely man-made—the state is extremely rich in oil and gas resources and electricity resources, accounting for 40% of the country's total oil and gas resources. There is no foreign investment involved. If it had developed normally, how could it have become so poor?"

"In other words, your claim that drug cultivation has become people's only hope for survival is actually man-made, a man-made disaster, not a natural one."

"In the next phase of development, I need to buy a lot of oil and a lot of electricity. This border can generate far more value than drugs, both for them and for me."

"Let me repeat myself: as long as we dismantle the economic foundation of the drug trade, they will collapse completely, and it will only be a matter of time before they are eradicated."

The drug industry is only highly profitable; in reality, the entire market only has so much money.

And it was this small sum of money that turned what could have been a vital artery of Milton into a front line.

Juan nodded slightly: "This is the root of the problem. How do we solve it? Even if we do, it may still take some time to change their mindset."

“Change what can be changed, and let them change in their next life,” Milton said calmly. “As for solving the problem… is the excuse of protecting the murderer enough?”

"If my police can't solve the problem, don't blame me for bringing in the military."

“They need to know that when the police come, they need to investigate, present evidence, and cooperate with local authorities... but when the military comes, they only need a list, not evidence.”

“If we can’t find the killer, I’ll kill all the drug dealers—the killer must be inside.”

Juan pondered Milton's words... If they killed all the drug dealers, they could definitely take down the murderer.

The exhaustive method of solving cases: if it's not you or him, then eliminating them will definitely solve the problem, right?
“I understand… Offense is the best defense. Once the enemy is wiped out, there is no need for defense.”

“Of course, my methods will be gentler,” Milton said. “On the surface, it’s ‘Warwind Company’ that received the order and is working with the police in Tapachula.”

“Now Vic and the state government have publicly broken ties and issued a statement to ‘set things right’.”

"Most people would think that if Vic's southern forces wanted to enter the north, they would have to go to the city of Vistula first, and then cross the Madre Mountains via Highway 211."

"And there are cities blocking the way, making it difficult for Vic's people to get through."

“But… I can secretly bring Vic’s men to Vevetnango and give them a huge surprise.”

Juan laughed: "Actually, this is an open strategy—because the enemy cannot abandon that direction of defense. We can concentrate our forces to attack one point and use concentrated power to attack their scattered defenses."

“Actually, I have a lot of confidence in you, ‘Hell Tax Collector’... If it were just a CJNG, I wouldn’t consider them your match.”

"But the problem is, they were able to rise so quickly, there must be someone behind them."

“There is a force that is eager for them to quickly occupy large areas of central Mexico, and that is what I am most worried about.”

“That’s right.” Milton nodded. “But I have information that DEA agents are also paying attention to this, and they’re clearly planning to take action. We just need to carry out the operation, and Winnie will find out.”

"it is good!"

“You just got back. How did the work go?” Milton stood up and asked again, “Is our border still safe?”

"The checkpoint seized another batch of smuggled drugs." Juan shook his head. "They actually managed to hide the drugs inside the C-pillar of a car, and we almost didn't find them... I feel that in the future, there will be more and more smuggling methods."

Milton glanced at the panel and said, "Fortunately, as far as I know, all the contraband has been stopped outside the border and hasn't been brought in yet..."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a notification popped up on the panel.

[A Class A contraband item (heroin, 200 kg) has been illegally brought into the controlled area]

[Location highlighted]

Milton, caught off guard, choked up...

200KG?!
This level of quantity entering the country simultaneously is definitely not something that can be achieved by smuggling.

Either a large number of smugglers crossed the border at the same time, or there is a mode of transportation that can bring in large quantities of drugs at once.

Moreover, it's not even a means of transportation...

The reason is simple: if a certain mode of transportation, such as an off-road vehicle or an airplane, crosses the border, Milton will also receive a notification from the panel.

Unregistered airplanes and cars are also considered smuggled goods!

and so……

Milton tapped the table and looked at Juan: "Do you think it's possible that they're trying various methods of smuggling drugs, such as smuggling them through checkpoints, crossing the border by off-road vehicle... and even digging tunnels to bring them in underground?"

Juan's expression hardened: "Very likely... I've heard similar things. It's said that there are countless tunnels under the US-Mexico border used for smuggling, transporting drugs, and other goods. The most luxurious tunnels can even accommodate motorcycles."

"Do you think they're very likely to dig a tunnel?"

“Yes.” Milton nodded, opened the panel, and looked at the highlighted points on the map. “Come on, let’s patrol again now. Let’s first check the terrain where it’s easy to dig tunnels.”

"Okay... let's go!"

"..."

……

Snap, snap...

Below the border, a wide tunnel, large enough to accommodate simple mining cart tracks, is being steadily advanced.

"Hmm... if the calculations are correct, we should have already crossed the border and entered Milton's territory."

A drug dealer threw dirt onto a mining cart, glanced at the large box of drugs on the ground, and said smugly, "Milton will never guess that all our previous actions were just to mislead him; the real killer move is underground."

"Even the Americans can't do anything about it."

“As long as this batch of drugs is sold, all our previous losses will be recovered... Moreover, this underground passage can continuously generate profits for us.”

"Milton couldn't figure out why, even though the border was supposed to be airtight, drugs were still being smuggled across."

"Once his people get a taste of the profits and realize how lucrative the drug trade is, his territory will fall into enemy hands, and then everyone will spontaneously support us..."

Another drug dealer, who was sitting to the side masturbating, casually remarked, "Heh, I heard the Milton police have been looking for me too. I just killed a family, what's the big deal? Look how worried they are."

"If I had known they were in such a hurry, I would have filmed the murder and sent it to them too, hahaha!"

“From now on, I will kill every single person who comes from over there, and I will kill every family that comes to us… This is the consequence of not doing business with us.”

"You still want to catch me... Haha, didn't expect that, did you? We're underground!"

"The police over there, from top to bottom, have all taken money from us. Anyone who doesn't obey has their whole family killed. Who would cooperate with them?"

"Alright, enough talk, hurry up and dig." A drug dealer kicked a skinny man who was digging. "Hurry up, tell me if you get tired, we have stimulants here, guaranteed to give you endless energy!"

"Make sure the support is in place and there's no collapse—we can use this tunnel for a very long time."

The man chuckled: "You've dug up the boss... Don't kill him so quickly next time, let me have a turn too."

"No problem... Hurry up and set up the supports. Can't you see the soil starting to fall down? Let's back up a bit, or we'll be buried alive."

The drug dealer frowned, turned around, and planned to rest in the support structures at the back.

The next second, a huge noise suddenly came from overhead not far away!

Before their eyes, the supporting wooden stakes seemed to be under immense pressure and suddenly broke, sending mud and sand cascading down and completely blocking their escape route!

P.S.: The Great Beauty Act has officially passed, great!

(End of this chapter)