Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 322 "The Second Anti-Milton Alliance"

Ponte Grand Prison, Jalisco.

Neither the final struggle between two political forces in Mexico City, nor the fall of the old government in Guatemala to the south, nor the US condemnation of Milton's new government for abusing violence rather than peaceful elections to remove Alzu from power, could affect Jalisco, a land already firmly controlled by drug cartels.

Of course, a little bit of political commentary is unavoidable. Rick Wood, a prison guard at the facility, was chatting and laughing with his colleagues as he clocked in for work.

"Have you seen the news? Something terrible has happened to our neighbor to the south."

“Hey…we have color TVs everywhere in our prison, even a fool could see that.” Rick touched the baton in his hand and shook his head. “But, looking at the attitude from the US, I think Milton will be forced to step down soon.”

"Maybe it can be like Cuba?"

“The Soviet Union doesn’t exist anymore.” Rick shrugged. “Milton couldn’t handle that kind of pressure, nobody can.”

"It's a real shame. I really wanted to see him succeed." The colleague walked through the security gate, continuing with a smile, "I've heard that some children and young people have already read his story and are praising what he did... Don't you think he's like Che Guevara?"

Rick immediately shook his head and chuckled, "You can't say things like that carelessly. Be careful some CIA rat hiding in the ditch hears you and kills you."

"Hahaha...Alright, I'll lead the way today and help you make a fortune. What does this have to do with our weekly wage of 1500 pesos?"

When the topic of making money came up, Rick's smile faded, replaced by nervousness: "Will there be any problems with what we're doing?"

My colleague scoffed: "What problems could there be? So many people are fighting tooth and nail for this opportunity... Let me tell you, Guzman is giving us dollars, not worthless pesos! The money he gives us in a month is our annual salary, understand?"

"The federal government is in such a mess that nobody has the time or interest to care about us."

"go!"

As Rick passed through the first iron gate, he could hear various metallic clanging sounds coming from all directions. In the ordinary cells on both sides of the corridor, prisoners huddled behind iron bars, their eyes cloudy, and the air was filled with the sour smell of sweat mixed with disinfectant.

As the prison guards approached, almost every prisoner's eyes flashed with disdain and hatred.

Rick ignored the prisoners and continued walking toward the prison area he had previously been unable to access.

When Rick followed his colleagues through the last gate, he almost thought he had gone to the wrong place!
This is not a prison cell, but more like a well-furnished apartment—the floor is covered with a soft and beautiful carpet that makes no sound when you step on it, and it has none of the eerie coldness of a prison.

On the left, against the wall, stands a set of genuine leather sofas that look very expensive, so clean that not a speck of dust can be seen.

The other furniture was equally luxurious: an exquisite coffee table, an enamel coffee pot, and several bone china cups beside it. The fireplace in the corner made the cell as comfortable as autumn!
Television, shower and bathtub in a separate bathroom, study decorated with high-grade wood, refrigerator, luxurious bedroom... If you didn't know better, you'd think this was a five-star hotel.

To Rick's utter disbelief, there was a satellite phone charging right next to the television!

"Are these still prisoners? This treatment is better than ours... no, even better than the warden's!"

“Every month, he gives the prison $10 in ‘construction funds’.” The colleague held up one finger. “Got it?”

As they were talking, the door was pushed open, and Guzman walked in from the beautiful garden where he was on his exercise break. He saw the two prison guards, nodded slightly, and then walked to the main sofa in the living room and sat down as if he were the master of the house.

“Officers, please have a seat. Try this Guatemalan coffee… it’s not easy to get your hands on from there these days.”

Rick frowned, about to say something, when his colleague gently pulled him aside, and he sat down in the guest seat.

Guzman slowly lit a cigar, glanced at Rick, and gave him a gentle smile that was completely unlike that of a serial killer: "Be kind to newcomers. Caution is a good quality. He's still used to playing by the rules and hasn't realized that he could be the one to make the rules."

Rick didn't quite understand what the drug lord was trying to say and remained vigilant.

Guzman shook his head, put the cigar away, and pulled out a fine wooden cigarette case from the same cabinet.

Then, he tapped the table lightly and pulled open the box...

Rick's gaze was immediately drawn to the contents of the box—a whole box of US dollars, a sizable diamond, and an envelope with a pretty sticker on it.

To be honest, the money in here is enough to buy Rick's life from the mob.

No one can resist such temptation. Rick swallowed hard. "What do you want me to do? Go after a prisoner you don't like?"

Guzman spoke slowly, taking a drag of his cigarette before saying, "Officer Rick, I remember you've only been married for less than two years, living in... and you have a child in school, right? Mortgage, tuition, living expenses for the whole family, is a little over 1000 pesos a week enough?"

"Oh, I heard that pesos are becoming less and less valuable. What a pity."

"Look here, the dollars inside are enough for you to live lavishly for five years, enough for your family to live in a luxury apartment; that diamond set in the ring will make your wife walk with her back straight; you can pay off your bank loan in an instant and free yourself from decades of being a 'loan slave'; there are also recommendation letters from the best local schools. Do you want your children to become successful in the future? Do you want your children to no longer live the life you have?"

Guzman spoke slowly, and just as Rick was becoming immersed in this wonderful future life, he suddenly pushed hard and closed the box.

Rick woke up instantly!

“I’ve helped you so much…” Guzman’s smile gradually faded. “Could you do me a small favor in return?”

"What do you want me to do?"

The decades-long debt could be wiped out overnight, allowing him to live a good life with his family and children, and send his children to the best schools... Rick was instantly captivated.

"There might be some minor disturbances in the prison early tomorrow morning. I hope your hearing will be a little impaired by then."

“I don’t want anyone from your ward to bother me, even if they are your colleague.”

"Can it be done?"

Rick wasn't stupid; he instantly understood what Guzman was trying to do—under Milton's attacks, the various cartels suffered heavy losses, and the Pan-American Cartel, which had been painstakingly built up, was on the verge of collapse at sea.

The Sinaloa Group's land-based smuggling routes have been completely blocked.

As the spiritual leader of the group, Guzman must personally go out and take charge of the group again.

He's going to escape from prison.

Rick immediately thought of the gangsters who collected protection money everywhere on the streets, the neighbors whose families were ruined because they couldn't afford drug bills, the classmates who used to be on good terms with him who died tragically on the street due to drug overdoses, the anti-drug police officers who were folded up and stuffed into the trash can while fighting against drugs, the mayor whose head was hung in the city center... He recalled one tragic case after another.

The culprit behind all this is currently in prison and is extending an invitation to him.

But then he thought of his wife, who looked at the bills with a worried expression, and their child, who was often praised by teachers, had excellent grades, and was expected to attend a private school in the United States.

Rick hesitated for more than ten seconds, but in the end, he reached out and took the heavy cigarette case.

In any case, even if he refuses, he can't change the outcome of Guzman's escape or fight against the corrupted prison on his own, so why not make the money?
"Okay, I'll help you."

"Officer, please take care. Close the door, thank you."

"..."

The third day, early morning.

Mexican newspaper Millennium. "Sinaloa Cartel leader and drug lord Joaquín "El Chapo" vanishes from "Big Gate" prison: Countless insiders helped him stage a historic escape."

The federal government continues to collapse, and experts predict that cartels will make a comeback in the near future.

……

Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras, 2 a.m.

A mid-to-high-end community with security protection.

Judge Roy Medina was pacing back and forth in his living room, looking somewhat nervous and clearly suffering from insomnia.

He was a judge at the Tegucigalpa Court of First Instance, but recently he was suddenly ordered to handle a very, very difficult case.

In the 1980s, the US-backed Honduran military carried out mass kidnappings, torture and executions of leftists, and even had soldiers beat students to death in the street!

The Honduran military has long held power in the country, and no one can do anything about such atrocities.

But recently, things have taken a turn for the better.

The military chose the wrong side in its intervention in the Guatemalan civil war, resulting in the deaths of thousands of troops in the valleys of Guatemala. Public opinion was once again inflamed, and discontent with the military reached its peak among everyone, from the government to even a dog on the street.

Calls for the liquidation of the military filled the parliament, and demonstrations could be seen every day.

With the relentless efforts of President Reiner's civilian government and his predecessors, the country's police force was finally brought under control... The cabinet unanimously agreed that it was time to take action against the military.

During the period when the Honduran army was bogged down, the civilian government decisively cooperated with the police and prosecutor's offices to issue arrest warrants and arrested more than a dozen officers, including Lieutenant Colonel Hernandez, with great efficiency.

The appeals court, infiltrated by the military, failed to exert pressure, and the trial is about to begin.

But Judge Roy, who signed the arrest warrant, was still somewhat uneasy.

“This was originally planned for July or August…” Roy sighed. “There are still many things we haven’t prepared for.”

But there was nothing they could do; Milton, the neighboring country, had created such a wonderful opportunity that no one could resist!
His wife comforted him, saying, "It's okay. Think about it, the army isn't even protecting itself anymore, so how could they care about these dozen or so people?"

“It’s hard to say. The Honduran army isn’t just composed of their own troops; there are also Americans involved,” Roy said with a wry smile. “President Reina’s current situation is actually somewhat awkward.”

As a president who had been in office for a year, Rainer's attitude toward the United States was actually rather ambiguous.

On the one hand, they certainly wouldn't offend this behemoth, so they tried to curry favor and ask for assistance; on the other hand, they were also trying to achieve independence.

His most important issue is promoting Central American integration.

He has also repeatedly criticized the United States' military intervention in Central America, and is even close to completing efforts to restore diplomatic relations with Cuba!

In the past, the United States would have been too lazy to care about a country that was trying to become independent without being anti-American, and whose geographical location and resources were not important.

But anyone with a modicum of political acumen can see that Central America is rapidly becoming a powder keg, thanks to the meddling of a certain individual.

President Reiner's stance may seem extremely jarring to Americans...

"Probably not, America..."

Before his wife could finish speaking, the sound of a high-powered engine suddenly came from outside the window!

Boom boom boom...

this? !

It's not a tractor, and it's not a sports car... It sounds more like the sound of a military vehicle!

A bad feeling welled up in Roy's heart. He looked out the window and saw several tracked armored vehicles—M113 armored personnel carriers!
In a moment of stunned silence, an orange-red light entered Roy's eyes.

Boom boom boom!
The M60 machine gun on the troop carrier opened fire without warning, knocking the security guard responsible for guarding the community to the ground.

The troop carriers then advanced again, completely surrounding the building where Roy was.

At least 10 fully armed soldiers jumped off an troop carrier and rushed into the building where he was, the sound of them kicking down the door echoing throughout the community.

Not far away, from the direction of the detention center holding important political prisoners, fierce gunfire also rang out!

As a citizen of a country that has witnessed more than 130 military coups, Roy knew almost without a doubt what was going on.

"Military coup!"

"Oh no, they're coming for me!"

Roy was startled and turned to look at his wife, his voice trembling uncontrollably: "You, you wake the child up and take him away, anywhere you want, just hide him. They're after me, the coup is urgent... As long as they find me, they won't do anything to you."

"how about you?"

"Never mind that! Otherwise, we won't be able to leave alone. Let's go! Let's go!"

The soldiers were going upstairs incredibly fast. Roy practically screamed as he pushed his wife and children out of the room and carefully closed the door behind them.

Thankfully... my family ran away.

Roy took a deep breath, regained his composure, picked up a cigarette, lit it, and sat down in the living room, taking puffs one after another.

Just one minute later, the door was kicked open violently.

The powerful flashlight shone directly on Roy's face.

An officer stepped forward and coldly looked at the judge who was gazing out the window at the night view and calmly smoking.

"Good evening, Your Honor."

“Trespassing is a crime, don’t you know that, Mr. ‘Officer’?”

The officer sneered, raised his gun, and pressed it against Roy's head: "It can be a crime, or it can be no crime... It all depends on your judgment, can't it? How about this, you cooperate with us, acquit our man in court, and the general promises you a huge sum of dollars, how about that?"

That's so direct... no wonder he's a soldier.

Roy flicked his cigarette ash, looked at the muzzle of the gun, and opened his mouth: "Sorry, I refuse."

"Ok."

boom!
(End of this chapter)