Working as a police officer in Mexico

North. Soviet Union.

Best, the president of the "Hope" group who hasn't been seen for a long time, was visiting the honor room of the Gorodok 5th Infantry Division, also known as the Guard Infantry 5th Division.

Victor sent him to the Soviet Union, intending to draw some blood from this huge bear.

He was one of the big three, but unlike Casare, he was mainly responsible for business affairs, and once Emperor Victor took power, he would be the Minister of Finance.

Under the push of policy, the "Hope" group also controlled 80% of the real estate development and light industry on Victor's turf, the remaining 20% was in cooperation with the local government!

It would be hard not to get rich.

Directly creating a monopolistic oligarchy.

Doesn't it resemble the "chartered companies" of the 17th century?

After arriving in the Soviet Union, with the help of US Dollars paving the way.

Best even managed to pull in quite a few colonels and major generals to his side, and even made acquaintances with several lieutenant generals.

Those drug traffickers like Guzman still have to go through middlemen, it's not too much to sell you a weapon worth 3000 Rubles for 3000 US Dollars, right?

If you want to buy goods, you have to find the manufacturer, intermediaries are very exploitative.

Do you think Victor Bout is a good person?

Just a black glove pushed in front.

According to rumors, when he was caught later, who was the most nervous?

However, the 1990s were tumultuous, and the changes in Eastern Europe in 1989 made everyone realize that this empire stretching across the Eurasian continent was all glitter on the surface and rotten within.

Anyone could come and take a bite.

Best had seen more foreigners than the local Soviets.

The great Soviet stage, if you have money, come on over.

"The Guard Infantry 5th Division, in the 1945 East Prussia assault, exhibited supreme military artistry while breaking through the German Army's heavily fortified staggered defensive positions.

In the battles for capturing major cities, the division was adept at siege warfare, and due to all officers and soldiers demonstrating heroic tenacity in the fierce attack on Königsberg, they were awarded the Xning Medal, annihilating the German Zemland Group and capturing the coastal fortress—Pillau (Baltiysk). During the war years, 13,743 officers and soldiers of the division received medals and awards, with 18 being bestowed the title of Hero of the Soviet Union."

The Soviet female guide, wearing a boat-shaped cap, was speaking with Spanish-style phonation.

Best nodded his head and said to Colonel Yuri Alexandrovich Mojakin, the deputy commander of the Guard Infantry 5th Division accompanying him, "классно" (awesome).

He had specifically learned this.

Giving compliments is no issue.

Indeed, upon hearing this, the Soviet burst into laughter and rattled off a lot, with the female guide translating along, "The Colonel says, thank you, it is the bravery of Soviet soldiers that achieved peace for the world, it's just that we're having some economic problems at the moment."

Best, of course, would not debunk it.

Instead, he said with a stern and serious face, "Of course, that's why I've come to help you, Davarish."

Upon hearing him utter the last word, Colonel Mojakin was taken aback, glancing at the female soldier interpreter who also hesitated before asking, "Did you say Davarish?"

"Yes."

Best, amid everyone's surprised gazes, took a badge out of his pocket and pinned it on the left side of his chest, "When I was in Mexico, I joined the XXX."

?!!

The bodyguards responsible for protecting Best all twitched their faces, bowed their heads, and dared not laugh out loud.

This thing...

NMD, bought on the roadside before coming here.

Best truly lived up to his moniker, "Fox," sly and cunning as he righteously asserted, "The world's Davarish are one family, naturally, I am very willing to help you face difficulties."

"By the way, do party members get a discount?"

...

After exiting the military museum, the high-ranking officers of the infantry division took Best to the warehouse.

Creak~

The rolling door opened, and a waft of dust hit them in the face.

"Cough, cough, cough."

Best quickly waved his hand, coughing vigorously a couple of times.

Colonel Mojakin's face turned red; the Soviet military was already bereft of morale. Damn it, such meager Rubles per month and still plummeting daily, with rampant domestic inflation.

There had even been instances where old veterans sold their own military medals.

Anything like the Medal for the Defense of the Motherland, Hero of the Soviet Union Medal, you name it, they would sell for money.

In such an environment, you still expect them to cherish their weapons?

Love your MMP!

"AK47, authentic goods from the Kalashnikov Group, there are about 3000 here, 5 US Dollars per kilogram, how much do you need?"

Colonel Mojakin sold vigorously, picking up an AK47 and continually pulling the bolt back, "Listen to this, Davarish, what a beautiful sound."

Best nodded his head, computing in his mind, by the weight of 4.3 kilograms per gun, these 3000 AK47s would cost less than 70 thousand US Dollars.

He instantly took a sharp breath.

NMD, what's the difference between this and giving them away?

To take them to the Latin American region for those guerrillas, selling them for 120 US Dollars each, how about that?

This was simply profiteering.

Drugs aren't as good as arms to a certain extent, because these are "necessities," much more useful than drugs in conflict areas.

"If you sell these, won't the higher-ups care?" Best asked.

"I'm just selling some small arms, Davarish, big shots sell regular-issue air-defense systems or missile systems. The difference in identity and status only determines the different benefits you can sell."

Rotten to the core.

No hope for redemption.

"Pack them all!" Best said decisively.

Upon hearing the translation, Colonel Mojakin lit up like a child; there were too many troops, similarly an excess of weapons, and different troops would even fight over customers.

"No problem, I'll have it packed tonight, arrange the freighter, but you'll have to cover the cost, so little weaponry doesn't pay off, Sir, perhaps you'd like to take a look at something else?"

Colonel Mojakin pulled him toward the next warehouse, which stored tanks. Inside, a Soviet soldier was polishing a war vehicle. Seeing a leader bringing people in, his eyes were unusually angry, even forgetting the most basic salute.

"This is a T80, you should recognize it. I remember in 1980 they were priced at 918,667 Rubles (1.5311 million US Dollars). Now they are only 60 thousand US Dollars each, and we throw in 5 high-explosive bombs for every tank. The price is very reasonable."

It's way too cheap!

Victor told him to buy weapons exactly because it was much more cost-effective than points.

$60,000 US Dollars...

In today's wealthy areas of Tijuana, you can't even buy a house with that.
Enjoy exclusive content from empire

Yet here, you can buy a tank.

Colonel Mojakin didn't seem like a soldier, but rather... like a salesman.

"Colonel! These are our comrades, not goods." The Soviet soldier questioned loudly upon hearing his words.

Best gave him a surprised glance, a Lieutenant, he didn't understand, just wondered why he was here.

"Akaruliye! This is not your place to speak, the Infantry Division is not yours to comment on," Colonel Mojakin scowled and rebuked loudly.

"Get out of here!"

The scolded Lieutenant Akaruliye's face turned red as he clenched his fists tightly. He rushed up to Colonel Mojakin and bellowed, "You are betraying the Soviet Union! You're a traitor!"

Before he could finish, Mojakin punched him down, and the officers behind him swarmed, pinning him to the ground.

The punch didn't knock him senseless; instead, he struggled fiercely, cursing in Russian.

"I have never betrayed the Soviet Union, nor the military!" Colonel Mojakin looked at him, "We need to eat, my family needs to eat, it's been three months without a salary from the military, how are we supposed to live? Guarding these pieces of scrap metal?"

"Take him to the cooler to cool off."

The officers restraining him dragged him out of the warehouse, one on each side.

His dissatisfied roar still echoed in the vast warehouse.

Best had stood by calmly all along because he simply didn't understand. The translator chose to be selectively blind, as if he saw nothing.

However, it was obvious that the other was dissatisfied with Mojakin selling the tanks.

"Sorry, sir, my soldier is a bit overworked."

Best smiled and waved it off, pointing at the T80, and uttered two remarks to defuse the tension.

"Package it up!"

...

Best shook hands with Mojakin, joking and touching the Colonel's insignia, "Maybe you should consider changing your rank, with that we could do more business."

He shrugged, "A general's son is the only one who becomes a general, sadly, my father was a cobbler."

This left Best a bit puzzled, that joke was really NMD cold.

He chuckled dryly, sat in the Volga car, ugly as it was, but when in Rome, rolled down the window, "Don't worry, besides the payment for the goods, I'll also deposit your fees in your overseas accounts."

Colonel Mojakin nodded in satisfaction, "Davarish!"

"Drive," Best patted the driver's shoulder, who began to move slowly, and from the rearview mirror, he saw the Soviet waving his hand, a reluctant look on his face.

Best took off the badge on his chest and stuffed it into his pocket.

These things, sometimes, can be very useful.

Many Soviets were selling out their country while still reminiscing about past glories.

The Volga drove out of the military camp, outside were streets where you could see windmills, awkward and lonely, spinning in the wind.

And people on the roads wandered aimlessly like zombies.

In 1940, the average monthly salary in the Soviet Union was 331 rubles, but by 1970, it had dropped to 122 rubles, which was laughable.

Stray dogs lay on the ground wailing, unable to find any food in the trash cans.

A 3-meter-high statue of Ulyanov lay toppled, a beggar seated on it, head down, his clothes reeking with a foul odor.

And Best turned to the other side.

Outside a dance hall, well-dressed people laughed and cuddled, as if everything happening in society had nothing to do with them.

Corruption and decadence seemed to split a street harshly into two halves.

"It's over, the Soviet Union is doomed."

Back in Mexico, he never thought of this, believing the giant bear in the East was still a world dominator, but after coming here, he knew that the upheaval in Eastern Europe was just the beginning, not the end.

At the sign of a trend, this bear would fall!

"Even Victor's Mexico is better than this," Best muttered to himself, rousing his spirit. In this situation, he needed to contribute more to his country.

Like...

Poaching talent.

"How are the contacts with the members of the Soviet Academy of Sciences?" he asked his companion.

"Mr. Nikolai Gennadiyevich Basov, a Nobel laureate, has refused our invitation."

"Vitaly Lasarevich Gintsburg is still hesitating."

"The physicist Yevgeny Ivanovich Arferov said we need to add more money."

"..."

"Physicist Aleksey Yekimov has agreed to our offer, but he wants us to get his family to Mexico first."

After hearing a bunch of refusals, finally someone agreed, and Best let out a sigh of relief, "No problem, and tell him that we're willing to pay half a year's salary in advance."

Mexico was ready to spend heavily to beat others in recruiting talent.

This Aleksey Yekimov received an annual salary of $250,000 US Dollars, plus a house, full medical coverage, holidays and personal leave, with a nanny and bodyguard included, his children given priority in education, and if they performed well and wanted to study abroad, Mexico would also provide a living and tuition grant until their graduation.

The deal covered everything but workplace details.

It was certainly attractive.

Mexico had no choice but to attract people with benefits.

Victor was quite well-off at the moment.

"In addition to the Academy of Sciences, the Medical Institute, companies like Sukhoi, Mikoyan, Zheleznyak Tractor Plant, Tupolev, and so on, all these are hubs of talent."

"Don't worry about the salary issues, as long as they dare to ask, we'll dare to pay," Best said, looking at the companion inside the car with a solemn expression.

"Gentlemen, the era of Mexico is in our hands!"

"Sir..."

The companion hesitated before asking, "Won't recruiting so many Soviets cause dissatisfaction among the Americans?"

"That's for the Director to figure out," Best replied.

Victor...

Would work to keep the Americans happy.

...