Working as a police officer in Mexico

Chapter 12; Baron!

Rush back to the prison on the last train.

The stolen Beetle was taken by Best to deal with. There are many second-hand car dealers in Mexico. Sell it to organize activities.

After getting off the car and standing by the lonely bus stop, you can see the "night market" not far away. Even if the attack happened just two days ago, it's just a death, right?

Can someone's death hinder the rotation of the earth?

When Kennedy died, it didn't hinder the Americans from reveling, right?

"A batch of goods will come from the Soviet Union in a few days. Sell it as soon as possible." Victor said with a cigarette in his mouth.

Casare's eyes lit up. He had tasted the sweetness. "How much?" "10 AK47s, 10,000 7.62mm bullets, 10 anti-1 grenades. It's a big order." Victor looked at his points. He currently had 2028 points. 10 AKs were 1500 points. The bullets were very cheap, almost free. 1 point could be exchanged for 100 bullets, which was 100 points. The grenades were 200 points in total. He could still have 228 points left. After two days, he would find a few unlucky criminals and kill them. He would have points again. In places like Mexico and Colombia, danger and opportunity coexist. It was perfect for Gao. The drug dealers could never be killed. Casare was trembling all over when he heard the number. He kept muttering to himself, as if he was calculating. Although the number of goods seemed small, it was enough to fight a small-scale war. With just two AKs and the old Black Star, Brother Hao dared to suppress the Flying Tigers. At this time, the "Special Mission Company" dared not raise its head.

You have 10 AKs, 10,000 bullets, and grenades.

Who are you going to attack?

Pistols are not standard equipment in many police stations in Mexico.

"How do you price it?"

"AK is the same as before, 800 US dollars, bullets are 1 US dollar for 5 rounds, and grenades are 30 US dollars. If you want all, you can get a proper discount."

Casare took out his hands, and his math was obviously not very good.

But he knew that he could make at least 600 US dollars on this order. The flesh on his fat face was shaking, "I'm rich, I'm rich."

"You should get to know more people in the second prison area. Those imprisoned here are the backbone of various organizations and are also our potential customers. We will sell large quantities in the future. They have money in their hands and can afford it."

"I understand."

In order to make some money, it is not easy at all. The police have to please the prisoners appropriately.

"By the way, have you heard about the Fremont Holder that Best talked about in the bathing place just now? It's so inspiring."

"Man, it's inspiring to be the boss in Mexico, but it doesn't mean it's the right way. You don't know when you will die. You don't want your head to kiss your ass, right?"

The two chatted and entered the prison. The guard saw that they came back so early and asked, "Casare, did the girls in the market cheat you of all your money?"

As for Victor?

He didn't dare to mock him. He dared to hit the drug lord in the third prison area, let alone himself?

Casare gave him a middle finger, which is universal.

When they separated in the dormitory, Victor gave him two more boxes of Colt bullets and told him to pay attention to safety. If he saw that the situation was not right, he should shoot first.

Casare agreed to see that he was so cautious.

Back in the room, Victor opened the diary, and suddenly remembered the man that Best mentioned.

The deeds of Fremont Holder.

It's really legendary.

…

This Fremont Holder is a gangster who robs gangsters. He also has a miserable life. I heard that his family was killed by drug dealers, so he decided to become a policeman.

But the Mexican police dare not trouble the drug dealers at all.

He found a way by himself and broke into the gang's sales bar alone and robbed 4,000 US dollars of goods!

According to the standards of 1987, killing a person in Mexico is about "1,200 pesos". Of course, you are not looking for members of a certain organization, but a half-grown boy on the roadside. They will do it.

Of course, it is 1989 now, maybe the price has increased or decreased.

After all, social unrest and reduced welfare have begun to roll inward.

But 4,000 US dollars is enough to sell your soul.

This world is profit-oriented. No matter how good your friends or brothers are, as long as there is a conflict of interest, everything will be forgotten. People's hearts are very complicated. Money can not only make the devil push the mill, but also the mill push the devil.

But Holder happened to have "cheap" morality. He was filled with hatred. When he closed his eyes, he could see his parents and brothers and sisters questioning him, why didn't he take revenge?

He couldn't sleep.

He originally thought that this was how his life would be. Maybe he would rot on that street, and the people in the orphanage would collect his body, and then no one in the world would remember him anymore.

But he was unwilling!

He wanted revenge. Since the other party was a drug dealer, he would fight violence with violence!

He had a flexible moral bottom line.

This world is all about cruelty. If you are not cruel, your position will not be stable.

If you can't leave a good reputation for thousands of years, then you can do it until you are infamous for thousands of years.

There are people who miss you on the Day of the Dead.

He knew he needed help, so he took a taxi to the La Condesa district. When he got in the car, he took out his gun, and the taxi driver immediately became honest.

Looking at the neatly laid out houses around him, a trace of nostalgia flashed in his eyes. He used to live here.

Lamely, I followed the house number to No. 27. The dog in the yard had already smelled the visitor's scent and kept barking.

A strong man about 30 years old came out. He stood at the door and yelled at the dog. When he saw a figure standing at the door, he felt a chill in his heart and subconsciously planned to run back.

"Ryan, don't you recognize me?"

Holder took a step forward, and the moonlight mixed with the faint light in front of the yard illuminated his face.

As soon as the strong man saw him, his expression changed instantly. He walked over quickly and opened the door, "Holder! Are you still alive?!"

"God doesn't need my soul." Holder laughed, his voice hoarse, "I'm not dead."

"Come in quickly, don't let that damn Song Wu see you." Ryan seemed to have thought of something and dragged him into the house.

Songwu was the neighbor who killed his entire family.

As you can tell from his name, his father is Vietnamese and his mother is Mexican, a hybrid.

Ryan is his friend who grew up together, and their parents also have a close relationship.

"It's great that you are still alive! I thought you..." Ryan was obviously very excited when he saw Fa Xiao. The grown man's eyes were red and he gritted his teeth. "I knew it was your house on fire, so I felt strange. I called the police, but the police didn't come to see you, they just said it was a fire. If Songwu hadn't been drunk and yelled on the street to admit that he killed you, I wouldn't have known that he was the murderer! "

"Later, my brother Arrieta also went to the police, but the police said that Songwu was talking nonsense while drunk, and there was no evidence that he was the murderer."

Seeing that there were still people running for him, Holder was moved, "Where's Arrieta?"

Ryan lowered his head, "Dead."

Holder was startled, "How could that happen?"

"When I was out of school, I was hit and killed by a mud truck. The murderer went to jail, but I know it was not an accident."

Silence is the lament of impotence.

Tears are the most fundamental weakness of the weak.

"Song of martial arts!" Holder gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and looked at Ryan, "Do you want revenge?"

Ryan looked up sharply.

"I figured I'd need help to go it alone, and I know you served in the Mexican Army, and I wanted you to join."

"You want to be a drug dealer?!" Ryan looked ugly.

When Mexicans think of organizations, they think of crime, and when they think of crime, they think of drug dealers. After all, it is nearly a century old.

"Ryan, we can't change the world or Mexico. All we can do is survive. Don't you want revenge?"

"Mexico does not believe in weak people. People who have no voice are destined to be unable to be accepted. I don't want to... die in a smelly ditch one day. When I close my eyes, all I think about is hatred. I need strength!"

"I believe you will help me."

Ryan looked at him, thought for a moment, and nodded slowly, "I believe you, you won't let me down."

Holder also looked at him and nodded heavily, "No, let's collect some interest first and come back. Who else lives in his house?"

"His mother."

"Kill her!"

"Shaina is a good person." Ryan hesitated.

"Is she a good person? Then she should be sent to see God. God will definitely be happy when he sees a good person!"

Now Holder just needs to collect some interest and come back, "Arrietta is also a good person."

Ryan clenched his fists.

"Kill her!"

Holder's eyes were deep. He just wanted a certificate of surrender. It's not that he didn't believe Ryan, but in the past few years, he had seen through that all relationships were bullshit, just like the woman a slum boy was chasing after. You could just spend some money to get it. Can drive.

After killing Songwu's mother, then Ryan and himself are really on the same front.

Don't be emotional.

If something goes wrong, it's death in Mexico.

…

Victor had breakfast in the cafeteria, took the key and went to the cell.

When passing by Stepan's "single room", he saw that he was being taken care of, and there was a woman next to him feeding him fruit with her mouth.

"Bang bang bang~" Victor knocked on the wall with his stick. Stepan, who was feeling comfortable inside, raised his head and immediately retracted the curse words in his mouth.

Damn it, why isn't this bastard dead?

Didn’t the people in Sinaloa say they would kill him?

"Are you surprised to see me? Mr. Stepan." Victor opened the cell door and walked in. When he saw the cut cactus fruit, he took a piece and spit the seeds in his face, making the other party get up in anger.

Victor put the stick in his face, "Do you want to do it again?"

Stepan's whole body ached when he thought about the feeling of being hit with a stick, but his status made him unable to lose face, so he said stiffly, "What's the benefit of offending me?"

Victor smiled and said, "I want you to understand the rules. On my territory, you have to coil up if it's a dragon, and you have to lie down if it's a tiger. Where's the greeting gift I told you? You didn't give me any supplies?"

He said, swinging the stick and sliding it down, pressing against his baby.

"Here, I'll give it!" He was so frightened that he hurriedly said, you can't get hurt in this place.

He got up from the bed and walked to the safe. Yes, there was a safe. He took out a wad of U.S. dollars and handed it to him.

This stack looks like there are about 2.3000.

"It would be better if you don't hand it in sooner."

Victor took as much as the other party gave him. He was not timid at all. He patted him on the shoulder and said, "Play slowly."

Before leaving, he closed the door for him.

Victor had just taken two steps toward the prison area when he heard a rich, sudden voice.

"Aren't you afraid of offending him?"

He turned his head and saw a thin middle-aged man sitting in the cell in a panic. He raised his head, his eyes as sharp as an eagle.

Victor blinked.

You can see the red points at a glance.

"1078000!"

“Cicily Falcon!!”

…