Working as a police officer in Mexico

The Medellin Cartel has several dozen assembly points.

"Damn!"

Chepe Sant Cruz angrily hung up the phone and said to his big brother, "Carlos Leder on the other side told me it's a rumor, but I wanted to talk to Pablo. In the end, he refused and told me it was inconvenient."

"I think something's happened."

Gilbert suddenly sat up straight, a strong sense of unease welling up inside him.

"Go get Herrera and William quickly, now!"

Chepe Sant Cruz understood the importance as well and didn't wait for someone else to call them. He ran outside and shouted, his voice echoing down the hallway as if he were calling for a dog.

About four or five minutes later, several people came rushing over, drenched in sweat.

"Big brother, what's wrong?" Herrera, who looked just like an old farmer, had been responsible for "cultivation" among the four brothers from the start. But now, as everyone turned to technology and fiercer tactics, even he had begun learning aggressively.

"We're at a critical moment between life and death." Big brother Gilbert said gravely, "Something's happened with Medellin."

"I suspect Pablo is really dead."

!!!!

The second brother Miguel's son, William Rodriguez Orehuela, eyes narrowed, "Uncle, isn't this a rumor?"

Gilbert took a deep breath, "There's been some ambiguity on Medellin's end, but we need to act now. If we go on like this, we can only wait for death."

"So big brother, what do you propose? We'll listen to you." The fourth brother Herrera asked nervously.

"Yeah, uncle, we're listening to you."

"Find a way to get some of you out, whoever can. Go to countries without extradition treaties with Mexico and the United States. Take the money. It's enough for you to live peacefully for the rest of your lives. Stop dealing drugs."

"What about you?"

Gilbert's eyes were sharp, "I'll stay here. Someone has to draw their fire. If we all leave, the intelligence agencies will definitely find out, and by then, none of us will be able to leave."

If Gilbert, who always found hope in desperate situations, said such words, it meant they were truly at a critical life-and-death juncture.

The atmosphere became somewhat oppressive and heavy.

"You go; I'm not leaving either." the fourth brother Herrera laughed, "If I can't do my planting, then there's no point. Going to other countries would be living under someone else's roof. Why bother?"

Chepe Sant Cruz and the younger William Rodriguez Orejuela wanted to speak but were stopped by Herrera, "Someone in the family has to carry on."

That sentence silenced everyone.

"That goddamn Victor, goddamn Mexico, we're not even doing business in Mexico anymore, so why do they want to wipe us out?" William said, lowering his head with some resentment.

Gilbert looked at his nephew's attitude, didn't argue, but rather had some worry. With that unwilling attitude, without the guidance of elder family members, he would become even more reckless.

Besides…

Would Victor spare the Cali Cartel's executives?

He was someone who would step on an ant on the roadside, a drug trafficker who could not even leave a yolk in peace!

Ah!

Even the Cali Cartel was looking for an escape route, not to mention others.

The atmosphere of panic and despair suddenly made Medellin tremble, as if the entire city had lost its vibrancy.

The third figure Carlos Leder was somewhat panicked. Now he didn't even dare to answer the phone. One call after another asked what exactly happened, and people did not treat him as politely as they did Pablo.

That tone became increasingly impatient, that demeanor increasingly unbalanced, and some even swore over the phone.

Carlos Leder was not very capable. He had always been an executor behind Pablo and Ochoa, but being the one giving orders now surely made him nervous.

The first order he gave was, "No newspapers circulation today," "No internet connection."

Isn't it human nature to become more curious when you prohibit it?

The people of Medellin, who learned about "Pablo's death" two or three hours later than the mainstream, panicked instantly, lying on the roadside in a daze as if their spirits had been drained from them.

Some even lay directly on the road, crying out loud.

Mourning the passing of Pablo.

Even the frontline troops had a sense of wanting to surrender on the spot.

"Carlos!"

Pablo's personal bodyguard, John Jairo Villarquez, rushed in through the door with an anxious look, "We can't go on like this. We should let the boss come out and refute the rumor. Otherwise, people will disperse, and it will indeed be hard to lead the team."

"But... but the boss is still in ICU." Carlos Leder furrowed his brow tightly, also very excited, "Do I stuff the boss in front of the camera and make him speak? I'm a drug trafficker, not goddamn God!"

He pulled at his hair in frustration, at a loss.

If Pablo were crazy, it would be alright. At least he would still be alive, and everyone would regard him as a spiritual symbol. But if the spirit dies, then he's truly dead!

John Jairo Villarquez's lips moved slightly, "Or we could negotiate with the Colombian Government. We can lay down arms and surrender, but we should serve our sentences in Medellin. We can even stop the drug business, but all must be declared innocent?"

Carlos Leder was stunned by his words. If he had said this a day ago, Carlos swore he would have killed him. But with that thought now, suddenly it seemed reasonable.

"Would Mexico and the Allies agree?"

John Jairo Villarquez heard his words and breathed a sigh of relief. As long as he agreed, it was fine. He patted Carlos on the shoulder — an action that, if Pablo were alive and Ochoa were around, would have definitely gotten his hand chopped off.

Who can just pat shoulders here?

But Carlos had no objections at all and instead listened attentively.

"Colombia is Colombia. Don't we still have insiders? Just tell them we are willing to buy our lives with money. If they agree, we can pay. Will the government really give up tens of billions, even hundreds of billions of US Dollars?!"

"Makes sense, makes sense!"

Carlos Leder nodded vigorously, "I'll contact Colombia right away."

"Hold on, don't rush too much, or they'll really think we have no power to fight back. I think it'd be best to fight a bit, hold out for two or three days."

????

I would call you the Medellin Li Chengwan.

Already prepared to surrender, yet still fighting?

But Carlos Leder, who had long lost his own judgment, agreed without thinking and held onto John Jairo Villarquez's hand, patting him on the back, "Now Medellin depends on you and me to hold it up together."

"Don't worry, Carlos, I'll help you."

After chatting for a while, John left. He looked back at Carlos, who was pacing, not calm at all.

Indeed, people label Medellin as a dragon, two tigers, and three dog shits!

Relying on him would definitely lead to nowhere.

...

While Carlos and John were discussing the idea of surrendering, the Colombian frontline command center received the intelligence report.

As for who provided it?

That's not important; after all, who in the world isn't familiar with Mexico?

Erich Manstein looked at the intelligence report and then consulted with Chief of Staff Frederick von Paulus and Deputy Commander Gerhard von Rundstedt.

Finally, the three of them deliberated back and forth until they came up with a good plan.

Erich Manstein slapped the table, "Alright, then let's do this. Have the Colombian Government agree to their policy and then lure them in to be killed!"

"Once the troops enter Medellin, quickly arrest the mainstream leaders and members of the drug trade. What's the difference between drug traffickers who lay down their arms and stray dogs?"

"Won't this be condemned? The government will be heavily impacted!"

"No worries, Supreme Leader Victor can handle it."

Erich Manstein waved it off without any concern. He squinted his eyes, "We are soldiers. We only need to be responsible for the results."

Military tribunal…

Victor goes first!