Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 243 Liquidation
The US midterm elections, the classic annihilation battle fought by Milton in Mexico... Latin America, as always, spent November in an exceptionally turbulent time.

Of course, the fighting looks intense, but the people here have long been used to it, especially the people of the Pan Madre Group. Apart from occasionally seeing planes flying overhead and occasionally hearing the sound of shells exploding, life is normal.

beep...

In San Marcos, a van carrying 12 people, which had crossed the Panama Canal from Brazil, pulled up next to a local budget hotel.

"The next stop is Malacan, and then we'll cross the border and reach Mexico." In the car, a man in a clean windbreaker, sitting in the passenger seat, looked at the situation behind him through the rearview mirror and said, "The fighting is raging over there. The state of Mexico lost 2000 people in one battle. Do you know what that means? Originally, we were supposed to go to Champellico, take a boat to bypass it, and go directly to Tijuana, but that would have cost a lot more money."

"I've heard that both sides have been much more restrained recently, and there hasn't been a large-scale hot war yet... Besides, there are risks involved in traveling by boat, and your documents, well, many of them can't withstand scrutiny."

"..."

The people in this van were all planning to illegally enter the United States!
The man in the passenger seat was clearly the "snakehead".

An Asian woman cautiously peered out of the car window and muttered to herself, "It seems quite peaceful here. Everyone is living a very good life, completely different from other places..."

Upon entering the area controlled by the Pan-Maderley Group, all these people clearly felt the fundamental difference between the local order and the terrible order in other Latin American countries.

There are no gangs; no street shootouts; very few homeless people and beggars; the vast majority of people dare to carry their valuables in their hands without worrying about being robbed by motorcycle thieves; and the vast majority of people are doing well, seemingly having at least basic security in terms of food and shelter.

Many prominent locations that should have been filled with commercial advertisements are now occupied by promotional slogans—such as the importance of children's education and the local government's subsidy policies for all families with school-aged children.

The sign even ended with a warning that preventing children from going to school is illegal!

For the people of Run, what they saw in just two days was beyond their comprehension.

Another man nodded and said, "Yeah...aren't they at war? Why is order restored so well? We passed through Guatemala City before, and it wasn't like this at all."

In Guatemala City, one member of this wiring team went missing! She vanished in just five minutes, completely disappearing as if she had never been there at all!
It is easy to imagine the extent to which order had collapsed in the country under the rule of the Arsu government.

Parked next to the cheapest hotel, the group of people heard the broadcast coming from the side.

"According to expert predictions, the economy will continue to be volatile in the near future, and the currencies of many countries may plummet. In order to ensure the safety of your assets, Mr. Milton urged everyone to exchange their 'risky currencies' for other safe-haven assets as soon as possible."

"The following is a list of risky currencies..."

"Mexican peso, Guatemalan guar..."

"..."

However, these people from Runren didn't care about any of that, nor did they believe it. Instead, they swarmed into the small hotel.

The receptionist glanced at the dozen or so people and yawned: "Everyone, please show your ID cards, I need to register you."

The owner's attitude surprised the smugglers a bit—in other parts of the smuggling route, smugglers usually have long-term cooperative accommodation owners and hidden smuggling routes, and Guatemala is no exception.

But a war cut Guatemala in half, and the routes that used to be easy to enter Mexico are now all in Milton's hands.

What's even more frightening is that no matter how hard these smugglers try, they can't restore their network in Milton's territory.

If you want to pass through this area without risk in the future, you either have to cross the mountains and jungles and go north to Petén province.

If they want to go back to the original fast, safe, and cheap route, they have no choice but to develop new local partners.

The smugglers then set their sights on this boss and this hotel.

Logically, seeing a dozen or so people who didn't look very wealthy walking in together should have made the boss very anxious, but he was surprisingly calm...

Perhaps they have some kind of confidence.

The "snakehead" became even more determined to cooperate.

However, before he could speak, a commotion arose outside the door.

A police car and a tax bureau vehicle drove in from outside. Several heavily armed police officers and tax bureau officials got out of the vehicles, pushed open the hotel door rudely, and quickly searched the crowd, as if looking for someone.

Soon, a female tax officer spotted a short, thin man with shifty eyes among the people.

“Samun Herrera, we have ample evidence that you stole banknotes worth a total of 46 ‘Border District Coins’ at 9:43:27 this morning.”

"Come with us."

Upon hearing this, not only the man who was named, but also the other members of the police force were horrified—were the police here really that terrifying, capable of being accurate to the second?
The man named Samun paused for a moment, then instinctively shouted, "I didn't! This must be a misunderstanding, officers... I'm a foreigner, I request to go to the embassy, ​​I suspect there's something wrong here."

Before entering the United States, unless they are internationally wanted criminals, they will generally retain their passports temporarily.

The officer looked at him, not bothering to offer any explanation: "So, you're going to resist arrest, is that it?"

Samun, a habitual thief who had never gotten into trouble, remained defiant: "I have not committed any crime, you have no right to arrest me!"

The police officer sneered and turned to a tax officer: "Well, I told you so. Bring over the evidence and read out his charges."

The other two officers took a cassette tape from the police car, went to the front desk, and tapped on a seashell ornament with feathers that the owner had placed on the counter.

"Uri, could you lend me the playback device?"

The hotel owner, who had been standing frozen in place, immediately stood up upon seeing the tax officials and said, "I'll bring it over right away!"

Soon, the screen clearly showed Samun taking a few banknotes from a woman's pocket as she passed by.

Whether it's the face or the clothes... all the features matched.

The thief's hands moved incredibly fast. After the police officers played the video once, they deliberately slowed it down and played it again, allowing many people to finally see the man's superb skills.

“Samun Herrera, you are arrested for theft. You have the right to remain silent…”

Samun stared at the screen, truly stunned this time—he had never failed in his years of stealing, not only because of his skillful methods, but also because he knew who he could steal from and who he couldn't.

You can't steal from wealthy people dressed in fancy clothes; who knows if they have connections with the police? You can't steal from gangsters; they don't rely on evidence, and stealing from them could easily get your hand chopped off…

But this time, he actually failed?

No, the Pan Madre Group's police actually care about these trivial matters?

"I……"

"Take him away." The officers glanced at everyone present, took the tape, and put him in the police car. "Alright, there's nothing to see here. Get back to work."

After the man was put into the police car, the tax officer walked up to the hotel owner, Uli, and handed him a document.

The boss, who wasn't afraid of even a dozen strong men, was now sweating profusely and asked cautiously, "Sir, what is this? I remember I've already paid the taxes."

"Tax refund form," the tax officer said calmly. "There's a problem with your calculations. The excess amount will be refunded to your account next month. This is the first time we've come to your door to tell you... Next time, we'll just send it by mail, whether it's a supplementary tax form or a tax refund form."

After the tax officer finished speaking, he turned around and issued another ticket, handing it to Samun, the thief who was already handcuffed.

"This is a punitive tax levied on your illegal gains, which you must pay... unless you want to face another serious crime when you go on trial."

After saying this, to the astonishment of the Runren group, the police officers and tax officials escorted Samun away from the small hotel.

After everyone left, the hotel owner breathed a sigh of relief, carefully put away the documents, and said to the Runren group, "By the way... registration, you can register first."

He regained his relaxed attitude.

This time, however, the "snakehead" suddenly realized why the hotel owner wasn't afraid of these dozen or so people at all—it wasn't because he had someone backing him, nor because he himself was extraordinary.

In this godforsaken place, someone gets the police knocking on their door even if they have more than 40 yuan stolen!
So what if there are a dozen or so people? Can they go against the police or the legendary, terrifying tax bureau that is directly led by the "hellish tax collector" and can wipe out thousands of enemy troops?

The smuggler swallowed hard and ordered the people behind him, "Register everyone, register them all, hurry up and register them..."

"..."

……

Quetzaltenango.

The city has fully recovered its former vitality.

A police car pulled up in front of the tax office. The officer opened the door and walked excitedly toward Milton's office, his face beaming with anticipation and excitement.

Since handling the nuclear waste, Riley has been promoted steadily due to his outstanding performance, and within a few months, his police rank and position have reached a considerable level.

Now, Milton has personally summoned him, saying there is a particularly important task to be assigned.

Riley, who was eager to improve, had been waiting for this opportunity and couldn't wait any longer, so he came to see Milton.

“Good afternoon, Mr. ‘Hell Tax Collector’!” Milton glanced at the documents on the table, waved for Riley to sit down, and said, “Not bad, you came quite quickly.”

Riley sat down, but couldn't hide his excitement: "Sir, I heard you have an important task to assign me?"

“Not bad.” Milton pretended to look down at the documents on the table, but actually opened the panel to check the reliability of the intelligence from his various informants in Guatemala City. After confirming that there were no problems, he continued, “You know, there will eventually be a decisive battle between me and the Alsu government... and the battle is not just a clash of guns and shells, but also in other aspects, such as the economy, diplomacy, and intelligence.”

Riley listened patiently and nodded.

Milton continued, "As far as I know, the Arsu government urgently needs an intelligence officer who knows a lot about our internal affairs and is relatively reliable. The pay is very high and the conditions are very generous. I think that instead of passively waiting for them to poach our personnel, I should send one to them myself."

“Perfect timing. I’ve already won over quite a few reliable lower-level and lower-level intelligence agents… but I’m still missing a high-level one.”

Riley understood completely, but he couldn't help feeling a strong sense of disappointment: "You...you mean, you want me to do this?"

He wanted to advance his career in the Milton government. As a spy, the road ahead was certainly not bleak, but it was shrouded in mystery.

“That’s right.” Milton nodded. “I’ve seen your abilities, and I believe you can become one of the higher-ups even if you go there. Of course, whether you go or not is entirely up to you. I will never force someone who is unwilling to go deep into enemy territory to work for me.”

"Think about it here, and then give me an answer."

Riley was caught in a huge dilemma—if he refused the task, the "Hell Tax Collector" would most likely not do anything to him, and there would be little resistance to his future promotions, but at most he could become the deputy chief of police in a medium-sized city, or even the chief.

However, for a sheriff who had worked so hard in a small town for so long, this promotion is already quite significant!

If he agrees, and returns successfully from the mission, Riley could very well be offered a position in the cabinet... But the problem is, the risks are far too great, and completely uncontrollable.

After hesitating for more than ten seconds, Riley made up his mind and said, "Report! I'm willing to go!"

Milton glanced at the list of allies on the panel, and after confirming that Riley had no intention of betraying him, he smiled and said, "No need to be so nervous... I can still provide the most basic security guarantees and the most basic intelligence."

"Besides, didn't you write to the Lopez and Arsu governments several times before, hoping to be promoted? This time, if we arrange for you to go there, you might be able to get into the enemy camp and reach the position you once dreamed of."

Riley gave a wry smile: "Sir, the political environment here is far, far more comfortable than over there!"

“Once you get there, observe and learn as much as you can. You can learn a lot of negative examples from the corrupt Arsu government.” Milton nodded slightly. “Your treatment will be told to you by others—whether you choose to continue working or retire on the spot after you come back, it will be enough for you to live a very comfortable life for the rest of your days.”

Lai nodded vigorously: "I understand."

“Get ready… Officer Riley, who always longed to work for the Guatemalan government but felt his talents were wasted here at Milton and ultimately decided to defect.” Milton finished with a joke, waving his hand, “You have three carefree days off, enjoy them.”

"I will definitely live up to your expectations!"

"..."

After Riley left, Milton tidied up the documents on the table, went to the roof of the tax office, took a helicopter, and flew to the front command post in San Cristóbal.

For the past month, neither side has been able to gain the upper hand. Milton also needed to familiarize his soldiers with the new equipment, so he simply left the front lines and returned to Quetzaltenango to handle and finalize various internal affairs.

Take advantage of this time to thoroughly clean up all assets and investments in the occupied territories that are related to the Mexican peso.

Of course, a lot of short positions were also opened.

It has to be said that dealing with domestic affairs is really boring. After more than a month, we finally got to December, the eve of the Mexican peso's plunge.

Now, it's time to return to the front lines and prepare to take over the oil and gas field completely!
Upon arriving at the San Cristó front command post, Flora and Brandon were already waiting.

"How are those six self-propelled artillery pieces?" Milton asked as soon as he jumped off the helicopter. "Have you mastered them all?"

"They've already been transported here in batches, secretly." Flora chuckled. "According to the drone reconnaissance, the enemy's deployment is the same as before, outside the range of our towed artillery. Once this batch of automatic artillery arrives, we'll make sure they see something amazing!"

Brandon remarked, "Arsu is still gritting his teeth and buying food, still sending us money... I originally thought that once we took away his printing press, he would completely admit defeat."

“He’s about to give up completely,” Milton said as he walked into the command center. “He has no choice but to give up—he’s using leverage now, and any fluctuation will wipe him out.”

Flora asked curiously, "About when?"

"Tomorrow, or the day after, at the latest the day after that." Milton waved his hand. "By the way, how's the situation in Palenque?"

Since the bloody crackdown on the last protest by Palenque citizens demanding the return of their oil interests, things have been quiet for quite some time.

What Milton regretted even more was that several of his newly recruited informants, who were of relatively strong will, also perished in the crackdown.

The remaining survivors continued to provide information to Milton and tried to stop the resistance, but they only dared to operate underground and did not dare to march openly in the streets.

There was no other way; the Mexican army had already deployed armored vehicles to the streets, and local police officers had been given orders to kill on sight.

With police, military, and drug traffickers all working together to suppress them, the people of Palenque are truly fortunate.

Flora sighed, “The hatred has accumulated very deep, but this time the government has learned its lesson. After that march, they went door to door and confiscated all the guns in the city, and even some of the larger knives were confiscated.”

“Some informants have taken huge risks to hide, but they can’t form a large enough group to pose a very small threat to the government.”

Milton nodded: "It's alright. Once the war starts, the enemy won't have as much energy to deal with things in the rear. We'll find a way to provide some support then... As long as we're still alive, we can reorganize our forces."

"Alright, it's getting late, everyone go and get some rest."

To be honest, Milton is really looking forward to tomorrow—December 20th—so that he can see the news of the peso's plunge first thing in the morning.

The money earned from this market crash, along with the profits from hiring employees of the Tapachula government, is enough for the Pan Madre bloc to sustain its two-front war for a period of time.

Since capturing Lopez's territory, Milton's cash flow crisis, which had been plaguing him, had been temporarily alleviated, and he slept very soundly...

dong dong dong...

A knock on the door jolted Milton out of his comfortable dream.

Milton opened his eyes, looked at the dark ceiling, sighed inwardly, and asked as he quickly changed his clothes, "What is it?"

Unless it's something important or something that was specifically mentioned, no one would wake Milton up in the middle of the night.

The soldier outside hesitated for a moment: "'Godfather,' there are people outside, uh, people who say they're coming to join you. Would you like to come out and take a look?"

Because Milton has a panel that allows him to quickly identify reliable people and verify the authenticity of information, he instructs everyone to report to him whenever a similar situation arises.

Milton yawned, opened the door and went out, gesturing for the guards to lead the way.

Soon, the guards led Milton to the makeshift dining room—where there was no one else but a woman and a child, who were sitting around a fireplace, drinking hot water and eating biscuits.

Their pale lips were enough to show that they were shivering from the cold on this winter night when the temperature was only a few degrees Celsius.

Milton glanced at the mother and daughter and asked, "Are they the 'intelligence agents' you mentioned?"

“Yes, they came from Palenque…” the soldier said hesitantly. “They said they’ve hidden the intelligence and will only hand it over when they see you.”

“Understood.” Milton nodded. “Then I’ll go ask.”

The mother and daughter also noticed the commotion.

The child, with sharp eyes, exclaimed, "That's the 'Hell Tax Collector'! I've seen a picture of him on my dad's desk!"

Milton walked over and asked, "You said you had intelligence for me, and now I'm here."

The woman quickly pulled the child behind her, glanced at Milton, and then cautiously pleaded, "That's the intelligence my husband gathered. He said you promised to give him money once you got the intelligence... I'm sorry, after that parade, the police and soldiers ransacked our house. You, you just need to give us enough food to live on for a few days, and the intelligence is yours... Please!"

The mother knew she had no bargaining power and had even told Milton beforehand that the information was hidden under a mound of earth not far away.

The child added, "Dad said that if he doesn't come back, we should take the things he hid and go find the 'Hell Tax Collector'!"

Milton looked at the pitiful mother and child, remained silent for a long, long time, and then said, "Tell me, what is your father's name?"

“Tok! My father is a hero!”

Milton found the name among the names of the fallen informants from the day of the parade.

He looked at the intelligence report that appeared to be stained with blood on the soldier's hands and said softly, "Yes, you should be proud of your father."

"Give me the money, and also, find a place to settle this mother and child."

"Yes!"

The child asked again, "'Hell Tax Collector' sir, when can we go home?"

Milton turned and went back to the command post: "Soon, very soon."

(End of this chapter)