Working as a police officer in Mexico

CIA agents are so damn arrogant!

Their track record is indeed impressive.

In Chile, Dr. Allende, holding an AK47 against the rebels, his last stand will forever be a classic.

In the Land of the Righteous, Sankara rose like a cherished child of the times, elevating Burkina Faso to a bright place, but like a shooting star, he fell from grace.

Many cases actually show that the CIA likes to use "interests" to bribe close confidants of their targets, and then stab them in the back.

But this move…

might be a bit difficult for Víctor.

Not to mention that the Mexico International News Department is covert, with agents who are 100% loyal to him, even now Víctor doesn't allow anyone, including Casare and Alejandro, to control "military power."

Without soldiers, how do you plan to kill me?

At most you can support a drug trafficker or the "Anti-Víctor Criminal Alliance."

Ultimately, Mexico is still a sovereign nation; you, a CIA agent, come onto someone else's turf to threaten an inherently "defective" "power player," you motherfucker…

beng…

Víctor kicked over the trash can beside him and grabbed the ashtray, hurling it violently.

As an agent, Tulio Walters had impressive reflexes and dodged in a panic, but Víctor was relentless, grabbing the coffee table and swinging it at him.

kuang—damn!

It smashed squarely onto the other's head.

Víctor grabbed Tulio Walters' hair and pressed his knee into his ribs, "Fuck your mother! Threatening me? I'm mentally disturbed, and you threaten me?"

Picking up the ashtray from the ground, he smashed it forcefully against the man's teeth, breaking all of his front teeth.

Tulio Walters was in so much pain that he was close to passing out.

Jonathan Pannier of the DEA was dumbfounded by the scene and even got a bit flustered.

A CIA agent being smashed right in front of him?

This…

He glanced around nervously, his scalp tingling as he saw the bodyguards in the room glaring at him with warning looks.

Víctor, tired from the smashing, tossed the bloodied ashtray to the ground.

Just then, B2 and the others dragged in Quintero. Seeing the scene before them, they all exchanged bewildered looks.

Víctor extended his hand, and Casare hastened to light his cigarette. Taking a puff, he looked at Jonathan Pannier, "Sorry, under a lot of mental pressure."

"Please don't misunderstand, I'm not against the United States, but Tulio Walters was involved in the drug trafficking leaders' murder of Camarena."

"Quintero can testify."

Víctor walked over, grabbed Quintero by the hair, "When you killed Camarena, was he there at the scene?"

Quintero's eyes were a patchwork of black and purple as he looked at Tulio Walters on the ground, shaking his head.

"Then add his name to the list!" Víctor said bluntly, turning to the bald Jonathan and spreading his hands, "Just a convenience."

"Don't you DEA guys despise the CIA? Don't you want to kill him?"

"Mr. Jonathan, a CIA agent's death overseas is worthless, but if your boss finds out from Quintero about the CIA murdering Camarena, perhaps your department could get more from the president."

"In the fight against drugs, we're on the same side. The U.S. Government won't support you much in many ways, but as long as it's about traffickers, me and my officers are very willing to cooperate, especially since your DEA needs its own armed forces overseas."

Víctor was being direct now; beating around the bush was just too exhausting.

Upon hearing this, Jonathan Pannier's interest was piqued.

The DEA is actually very inefficient internally; often by the time your report gets through, the traffickers have sold all their drugs and no support has arrived, a situation that greatly dissatisfies an efficiency-minded person like Jonathan Pannier.

He came to the drug enforcement field with no informants willing to work with them, and even when they acted on information, the suspects had long since vanished,

The most important thing was that he was quite happy to see Tulio Walters take a fall.

DEA and CIA's overseas conflicts were too many...

There had even been standoffs between two groups from each agency.

If more straightforward, it was the fair-skinned idealists vs the drug smuggling, background-having Black communities.

Both sides wanted to take down the other.

Jonathan Pannier had been comrades with Camarena in the same unit before they both joined the DEA. After the latter's persecution, he volunteered to work in Mexico.

The Mexican Government "letting go" of Quintero was something he held onto bitterly, even more so when he heard that the Sinaloa Court was planning to acquit him, leaving Jonathan Pannier both furious and helpless.

If he cooperated with Víctor...

He could use his armed forces to fight the traffickers!!

The CIA?

Let them go to hell.

Others might fear them, but the DEA sure as hell doesn't.

"Once the Mexican Drug Enforcement Agency is established, we will give the DEA an annual support of 10 million US dollars and hope to collaborate with your department on drug prohibition work in the Latin American region and even globally."

His eyes practically shone upon hearing this.

Fuck!

DEA has to fill out a report to buy a pen; the funds provided by Congress are completely limited, the department has called for better compensation more than once, but the money is all used by the CIA and other intelligence agencies.

10 million is enough for DEA members to live very well.

Jonathan Pannier was a smart man; he looked at Quintero, then at Tulio Walters on the ground, "Mr. Víctor, my dear CIA comrade has been killed by traffickers in Mexico!"

This completely threw Víctor for a loop.

This guy can play the game even better than me?

According to a U.S. declassified document from 2009, there was information within the DEA back in 1985 about the CIA being involved in drug trafficking when Camarena died.

Just when the DEA bosses were about to call him back to ensure his safety, the tragedy happened.

At the time, the incident even led to discontent among many retired DEA officers, who demanded an investigation into the CIA. But the CIA of that era had grown so powerful, they didn't even regard Congress.

Looking at him, Víctor thought, damn, the bald guy must have lost all his hair because of his nasty mind.

"Quintero shot and killed a CIA officer with a firearm!"

"That's fine," Jonathan Pannier nodded.

Jason Bourne glanced at the boss, saw him nod slightly, then took Quintero's hand, shoved a gun into it, and made him fire three shots at the agent on the ground.

All hit the vital points!

"When the time comes, just cut off his tongue, and leave the rest to me," Jonathan said casually, clearly accustomed to handling drug traffickers this way.

Victor smiled, "Let's find a different place to talk, Mr. Jonathan, the smell of blood is too strong here."

"I'd be delighted, I also want to learn about your drug enforcement philosophy."

The two were practically arm in arm.

A CIA death overseas was too common, and coming to Mexico for intelligence was damn dangerous in itself.

In his last two years, Pablo was crazy enough to offer 50,000 US dollars for the death of a CIA agent; American intelligence operatives in Colombia were treated like dogs.

In the adjoining office, Jonathan and Victor had been deep in conversation for over four hours, making several agreements.

One, hand over Quintero to the DEA.

Two, Victor provides annual funding of 10 million US dollars, with an extra million for the Mexico division.

Three, the DEA may request drug eradication cooperation from the Baja California Security Department, which Victor has the right to refuse.

Four, the DEA recognizes Victor as their overseas employee organizer.

Five, the DEA is responsible for dealing with any trouble the CIA causes Victor!

...

These were all verbal agreements—shady deals not meant to see the light of day in contracts.

Victor didn't need the DEA's help; just not being labeled as a terrorist organization would suffice.

Isn't that what the CIA loves to do—pinning fabricated charges on people's heads?

Other organizations being supported overseas?

See you on the battlefield!

After reaching an agreement, Victor even had someone bring wine, raised his glass, "Mr. Jonathan, perhaps it won't be long before the great drug prohibition mission is accomplished in Mexico!"

"I look forward to that day, and so does Camarena."

"To our great mission!"

"To our fallen comrades."

Bang~

The two clinked glasses and downed their drinks.

...

San Luis Potosi, in a motel.

Cuauhtémoc smoked quietly while looking at the man sitting in front of him—the spokesman for the Mexican News Group, clad in a white suit, with a full head of silver hair, Jonathan Aragon.

"I remember you don't smoke," Jonathan said.

"A little smoking is a form of indulgence," replied Cuauhtémoc with a smile, stubbing out the half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray, "I didn't expect you would really come."

"I don't want to see you fall into an abyss you can't pull yourself out of; we're friends."

"So you're so sure I can't defeat Carlos?"

Jonathan Aragon's eyes flashed as he stood up and looked out the window at the patrolling officers below, "Just with them? Victor's men?"

"Isn't that enough? With my political backing plus his armed forces, does Carlos stand a chance? I'm going to announce the formation of a new political party in San Luis Potosí Plaza!"

Jonathan Aragon frowned at this. When he received the phone call, he was told that there was something very important to discuss and that the caller hoped to meet him. Not having seen Cuauhtémoc so earnest in a long time, he flew in by helicopter. Jonathan was well-informed; he knew that his acquaintance had gone to Baja California and was even aware of what Carlos smashed in his office.

Despite having a hunch, hearing this now still made him wary.

"Do you understand what you're doing?"

"I'm pursuing what my father, I, Victor, and the countless others yearning for light hope for—we want students to afford education, the elderly to afford medical care, we want a Mexico free of drug traffickers!" said Cuauhtémoc, standing up and gesticulating passionately.

"We must consider the people!"

"I'm not asking you to fully join us, Jonathan, but you need to be clear-headed. Carlos can't protect your assets. If you continue to be blinded, I can't hold back Victor; he's very displeased with you tycoons."

"He thinks you're colluding with drug traffickers."

"That's a smear!" Jonathan retorted, startled.

"Of course, you can go file a complaint, even bribe someone to kill Victor, but you need to understand the consequences of opposing him. I even think he's mentally ill."

"I'm your friend, and that's why I'm thinking of you and your family."

"Victor never needs a reason to kill."

Great... Just slander Mr. Victor behind his back. Who said he kills without reason? It's just that the reasons are slightly contrived.

Jonathan's face grew somber as he parted his lips to speak.

The whole world is like this; tycoons fear military leaders. Even South Korea had a period under military government when the tycoons were almost exceptionally obedient.

Silence filled the motel room.

"What do you need me to do?"

Cuauhtémoc, hearing his words, answered with a joyful smile, "Don't be nervous, pal. Just give me a nationwide live broadcast when the time comes."

"Is it that simple?" asked Jonathan Aragon, skeptical.

"I never ask too much of my friends. I know it's not easy for you, and I understand," said Cuauhtémoc, changing his tone to a more soothing one.

Looking into the sincere eyes of the other, Jonathan Aragon drew a deep breath and forced a smile, "I hope you succeed!"

"Success or death!"

...