Working as a police officer in Mexico

Waking up in the middle of the night, Victor's head was somewhat aching.

After the conference ended and an evening banquet followed, these American capitalists vented all their anger through drinks, each one toasting a glass, leaving Victor slightly drunk.

Wearing pajamas, he walked to the balcony and smoked a cigarette.

Sounds rustled behind him, and then he felt a coat draped over his shoulders. When he turned his head, he saw Belsaria saying, "Don't catch a cold, the weather changes rapidly now."

Victor nodded with a smile, "Why aren't you sleeping a bit more?"

Belsaria sat beside him, her gaze on the sky, "Isn't Mexico's Day of the Dead next month? I want to commemorate my father and grandfather."

Victor was taken aback; it had almost been a year already.

"Then this year, let's organize a grand procession for the Day of the Dead, so the public can remember their ancestors. True death is not dying but being forgotten."

He reached out to embrace Belsaria, "I'll accompany you up Mount Tepeya to commemorate them."

"Alright."

The two leaned against each other, quietly watching the sky, enjoying a rare tranquility.

When he got up the next day, Victor sniffed hard.

"Boss, got a cold? Should I call someone for you?" Casare asked worriedly beside him.

"No problem, no problem, ah-choo~"

Victor couldn't very well say he had been sitting outside on the balcony with his wife, so he leaned somewhat listlessly on the chair, "I want to hold a grand parade for the Day of the Dead this year. Mexico City has about 7 million people now, adding tourists, it'll be a gathering of over ten million people, which can boost our local GDP."

"Won't the security pressure be quite high?"

"If we're afraid of security risks, we won't proceed? Not at all; let's do this: mobilize the garrison and police departments in my name to fully ensure the Day of the Dead can unfold, and the four war zones will enter level one readiness on that day. As long as we remain vigilant, saboteurs won't find any loopholes."

"On November 1st~2nd, I personally estimate revenues exceeding 100 billion Rials." Seeing Casare still hesitating, Victor dropped a bombshell.

Sure enough, Casare, who was already under fiscal pressure, got a burst of energy, "I think we cannot forget Mexico's traditional culture, especially as it greatly influences cultural and spiritual construction."

"You, you, you, in your past life, you were a miser."

"Also, set up an altar on Mount Tepeya; at that time, Belsaria wants to commemorate her elders."

"Alright, I promise to get it done."

After pouring hot water for Victor, Casare left the office. Regardless of how busy he was every day, he would surely appear in the latter's office early in the morning.

As he said,

I must report to you daily, Boss.

Sometimes, this made Victor feel overly moved.

He shook his head with a smile, sipped on some hot water, took two cold pills, and just as he set the cup down, he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Augustine Przybylski entered with an excited look on his face, "Supreme Leader, our News Bureau intercepted some information. According to the new info, Pablo has been hospitalized, and his condition is dire; he might not live much longer."

This piece of news came rather abruptly.

Victor pondered for a moment, "Relay the news to the frontline command, and also leverage public opinion to make the world believe Pablo is dead, to demoralize the enemy's resistance organization."

"Once panic sets in within the Medellin Cartel, Carlos Leder as one of the top leaders won't be able to withstand it, and perhaps the entire organization might disband."

The Medellin Cartel isn't an individual's organization; it was Pablo who stabilized it with his strong charisma. In the eyes of many Colombians, he was a "Robin Hood" type hero, but if he's dead, then the issue changes entirely.

Augustine Przybylski patted his chest, producing a thumping sound, "Leave this to us, and rest assured everyone will know by then."

"Once rumors start, they aren't that easy to dispel."

Augustine Przybylski left excitedly, while Victor's gaze remained deep. Die of illness?

How could I let you have such a nice end!

"Even if you die, I'll dig up your tombstone and drag your corpse out for public shaming."

…

On October 24th, The New York Times suddenly published a piece of news on the front-page headline:

"Pablo Escobar, Cocaine Kingpin Who Terrorized Colombia and U.S., Dies at 44"

(Cocaine Kingpin Pablo Escobar Passes Away at 44—Once Plunged Colombia and the U.S. into Terror)!

This news spread rapidly!

At this moment, no one cared whether the news was true or not, spreading it came first.

The media outlets in the United States, Mexico, South Korea, Japan, Colombia, and so on, all reprinted it.

When the news reached the Cali Cartel, their leader Gilbert was astonished, continually asking those around him, "Really? Did Pablo die? Why haven't I received any news?"

He was somewhat panicked too.

Could it be, could it be…

Third leader Chepe Sant Cruz furrowed his brows, "Fake news, I haven't received anything yet. I think this must be some external force's public opinion offensive, a rumor, I'll call them and see if Pablo can come out to verify."

He quickly walked over to the desk and picked up the phone.

Gilbert didn't stop him; he also wanted to know what actually happened. Being in intelligence, he understood the harm these rumors could bring.

Before the Soviet Union disintegrated, rumors had already started spreading internally; the empire began falling apart from within…