Working as a police officer in Mexico

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But Khalid Baskabilu always felt that their gazes were fixed on him and his companions with a hint of... malice?

He frowned and stared intently at them.

But when the green light began to flash and the convoy started moving, those few people didn't make a move. However, he didn't relax because his instinct told him something was off.

"Stop the vehicle!" Khalid Baskabilu yelled, "Assume a defensive posture on the spot! Call the joint operations command center and request additional personnel for escort! Request air cover!"

"Sir..." the lieutenant hesitated, furrowing his brows.

"I order you as a lieutenant colonel of the special operations command!"

The other party looked at him and after a pause, slowly nodded and raised his hand, "Defensive positions!"

Best looked at him with a nervous expression, his own face also tightening, slightly panicked, "What is it, Khalid?"

"Nothing, sir. It's just that it's better to have more people on our turf." He deflected with a couple of offhand remarks.

Following his orders, the convoy stopped in the middle of the open area in the road, the soldiers got out and spread out, while the heavy machine guns were loaded and ready to manage traffic.

"Hey! Let me through! I'm in a hurry!" a driver in a red sports car shouted, sticking his head out and honking the horn insistently.

"Sorry, you can take a detour; you cannot pass here." the soldier in front shook his head.

"Just go through, they won't find us anyway, our license plates are fake." his companion behind him whispered in a low voice.

Despite the numerous surveillance cameras installed in Tijuana, to be honest, the resolution is so poor it's hard to tell men from women at a glance.

Upon hearing this, the driver nodded and stepped on the gas, but only accelerated for a few meters before he had to slam on the brakes. His companion, caught off guard, smashed his face into the back of the headrest, wincing in pain.

"What the hell..." he cursed, holding his face.

The driver's hands shook as he raised them and shifted half of his body to the side, only to see the soldiers outside with their guns pointed at them, fingers already on the triggers.

"That indeed..." his companion ducked his head.

"Get out of the car! Get out!" the soldiers yelled, and the two men reluctantly got out and squatted on the ground.

It seemed that the barrel of a gun still had its uses.

Meanwhile, under the umbrella at the entrance of the open-air cafe...

Two men and a woman furrowed their brows at this development.

"Why aren't they moving anymore? Did they discover something?" the woman asked nervously, speaking in Italian.

"Could our operation have been compromised?"

Seeing her agitation, an older man among them admonished her, "Keep calm, Elena. We are just tourists traveling in Mexico."

The woman took a deep breath and nodded slowly.

"No one would betray us, we've been careful. It must be an unexpected turn of events, or someone sensed something wrong."

"Do Mexicans have any capable people? Just those soldiers?" another man with short hair asked, his brow furrowed in doubt.

"Robert, you need to shed your arrogance!" the older man scolded, "The Spanish intelligence agency has lost many operatives here, and many of our colleagues from other countries have died too."

"They were failures." the man named Robert said with disdain, "Rivera, arrogance won't make me lose my sanity."

The older man was almost driven to fury.

What exactly had the Army Intelligence Service saddled him with? A female agent fresh out of training with zero experience, and a second-year operative who had done a few missions in Africa and killed quite a few people, yet was so full of himself.

He was just a few years away from stepping back into the second line, and he didn't want to end up with Jesus just yet.

"We must destroy the uranium-238 in the enemy's possession; we can't let it get into the hands of the Americans. Otherwise, we'll face a huge diplomatic crisis!" Robert's eyes were fixated.

"What do you plan to do?"

"Set off the bomb in the cafe and then, amidst the chaos, go straight for them."

Veteran agent Rivera twitched the corner of his mouth, "We're agents, not superheroes."

"Are you afraid to die?" Robert looked at him.

```

"Off you go, idiot!" Rivera couldn't be bothered to say more, just got up and left. What a joke—originally, he was just a teacher, except he was good at managing his facial expressions, and then he passed into the system.

As a result, the Army Intelligence Service took a shine to him and trained him to be a special agent. He wasn't very willing, but the retirement pay was good, completely enough to support his family; after all, there was his disabled son at home.

All he wanted was money; he didn't want to die for his country, especially not in this... suicidal way. If the mission failed, at worst they'd deduct his pay, but if he died, that was it.

The job belonged to the country, but his life was his own.

Actually, this was also an example of acronyms like the Army Intelligence Service; after all, it had been only a bit more than forty years since Italy abolished the monarchy!

But many still harbored thoughts of restoration and such. The country was unstable, otherwise, they wouldn't have recruited a teacher who became an agent halfway through his career to go to Mexico.

Watching him leave, Robert cursed him as a coward, then turned to the female agent, "Elena! How about you?"

"I..." The other was somewhat at a loss.

"Don't worry, I heard that if the mission's a success, there's 100,000 Italian lira in it for you! You just need to go and detonate the bomb in the café. When the soldiers surely come to search and rescue, I'll take advantage of the chaos pretending to escape to snatch that briefcase!" Robert explained.

"Just... detonate the bomb?"

"Of course! I think you should be able to open the countdown timer, just like that!"

Alina nodded. She was about to get up when suddenly, from nowhere, seven or eight burly men appeared, pinning both of them to the ground!

Tables and chairs were kicked aside.

Those who had been sitting nearby watching the excitement scattered, but still hid in the distance pointing and gawking, their eyes gleaming.

"What are you doing! Let me go, who are you!" Robert shouted, struggling!

"You should know us, the Mexican News Department. Your actions have been exposed!" said the leader, grabbing his head with a cold sneer, "I'll let you have a taste of our 'three courses and a soup'!"

Robert's pupils shrank at the mention of the News Department, while Elena's legs went weak. When she was dragged up, she was trembling all over, and as she was pushed into a nearby black SUV, she saw a familiar face inside.

"Rivera!!" he exclaimed, looking at the other with a cigarette in his mouth, his dashing demeanor triggering a twitch in the corner of Robert's eye. He suddenly realized something and shouted sharply, "You've betrayed the motherland!"

"You've betrayed us!" Elena also couldn't believe it.

Rivera dug in his ear with his finger, "You risk your life for 2,000 lira a month, do you know how much the Mexicans are offering me?" Your next journey awaits at My Virtual Library Empire

He shook his head with a smile, "I can't tell you that."

"That's a secret."

"They're offering so much, I couldn't refuse, so I'm sorry, the money from Italy isn't even enough for two drinks, and besides, they haven't paid me for four months."

"A company that doesn't pay its workers deserves to go bankrupt!"

"For money, you betrayed your own country, you're a traitor, your entire family will be hung up on the pillar of shame! You bastard, you'll have a wretched death!"

"No, no, no." Rivera shook his head, "Once I retire, I'll be Mexican. But for now, I need to find a way to get more information and status, and I'm afraid I'll have to send you on your way first."

"No need to waste words on him, gag him!" the leader of the news department team said with a frown. Although he didn't like Rivera's style, such a man was still needed.

Rivera smiled, meeting the gaze of his former comrades just as calmly.

What could be more profitable than playing both sides?

The Italian bureaucrats sent him here to die, so, naturally, he couldn't fulfill their wishes; he had to find a way to secure benefits for himself!

That little money made things difficult for him.

Oh, by the way, he had no sense of patriotism. His father was one of the Guard Corps members who followed the founder of the Mo Family philosophy during World War II, later imprisoned at the Great Sasso summit in the Abruzzi mountains, and then rescued by German paratroopers, went on to become a high official in the "Italian Social Republic" in Salò, Northern Italy!

Afterward, while fleeing to Germany he was captured by the Italian partisans, executed by firing squad along with the Mexican bald guy, and his body displayed in Milan square.

He was truly the remnant of a fallen regime!

Rivera, looking at the head of the news bureau beside him, smiled humbly, "Sir, I also know about some NATO countries' intelligence agencies' operating centers in Tijuana!"

"Got any ideas?"

"Just for 100,000 US Dollars... everything included!"

...