Working as a police officer in Mexico

Aguilar, trembling hands, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "Turn off the TV."

The right-hand man of Juarez, his confidante... was just smashed to death?

The police directly smashed his four... five limbs, then his skull, all broadcast live. The bloody and blurry scene made Aguilar feel a bit queasy.

Hearing his words, the subordinate hurried to turn off the TV.

"Victor's methods are becoming more and more brutal!" Guzman frowned, holding a cigarette but also slightly shaking.

"I don't think he will agree to negotiate with Cuauhtémoc like this, we still have to fight!" Abrego said grimly from the side, "Guzman, your son was killed by him, will you just take it lying down?"

Shorty's face immediately darkened, "Although I really want to kill him right now, I'm clearer that the time isn't right. Just wait, Victor won't be able to jump around for much longer."

He was still very rational.

Aguilar exhaled, "For Colombia, I can only make the trip myself. Who will go to the Aragon Family banquet in Mexico City?"

The atmosphere suddenly quieted down.

Are you kidding?

If Victor goes too, wouldn't it be like delivering themselves right to him?

Aguilar was very shrewd, putting himself safely outside, leaving Guzman and Abrego staring at each other.

Victor was notoriously temperamental...

"Why don't you go?" Guzman looked at Abrego, "You are more eloquent than me, and I haven't been feeling well lately."

"The doctor said I can't travel far, don't you have four cousins? Let them go, they can be responsible for all negotiating matters."

Guzman's face darkened, are you guys eyeing my men for your own gain?

"My people are making the effort, I want an additional 3% of the shares, or you can find someone else."

Abrego opened his mouth.

"Fine! We'll split it half and half for you," Aguilar agreed with a clap of his hands.

After the meeting of the three bosses ended, Guzman left with a grim face; the four Bertrand Leyva brothers were waiting for him outside.

"Boss!"

"Boss!"

Guzman nodded, his gaze scanning the four brothers. The eldest Arturo, the leader of his gunmen squad; the third, Carlos, was clever and strong; the youngest was in charge of money laundering, which left the second brother.

"Hector."

The second brother, originally hiding behind his siblings, was startled when Guzman called him. He was a bit confused; his cousin had always ignored him, and within the organization he was never given any responsibilities. He was happy to be idle, enjoying his days flaunting wealth and chasing girls.

Suddenly being called out this time, why did it make his scalp tingle?

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"Boss..."

Guzman waved his hand and straightened Hector's clothes, which even alarmed Arturo, his eyelid twitching.

"You go to Mexico City for us to negotiate with the government. I'll give you the specific demands later; just pass them on to them."

Hector had heard about the big changes in the organization but hadn't paid attention, thinking he was the least useful anyway. But now, was the most critical task falling to him?

Suddenly his eyes lit up. Glancing at his eldest brother, who was frowning as if contemplating something, Guzman pushed him, "Got it?"

Hector hurriedly nodded, "Understood."

"When you come back, I'll arrange a new position for you. Stop loafing around all day; this is relatively easy, we've already built a good relationship with those people."

"Do it well, I don't want others to call you a fool; tell them they are wrong about you, I believe in you."

After a few words, Hector's blood surged with excitement. "Cousin, rest assured, I definitely won't let you down."

After patting Hector on the shoulder, Guzman walked away.

In the air, Hector threw a few phantom punches, looking at Arturo, "Big brother, I've got a serious job now."

Not being busy didn't mean he didn't want to be. Actually, watching his brothers shine in Sinaloa, he was envious; now that the group needed him, he felt spirited.

Arturo always felt something was amiss. Watching his excited brother, he hesitated but didn't want to dampen his spirits, so he could only say, "Don't screw up; if something feels wrong, run."

Hector, in his excited state, didn't take it seriously.

Arturo frowned as he watched Guzman's departing figure in the distance, slowly furrowing his brow.

...

"Buzz Buzz Buzz~"

Benito Juarez International Airport in Mexico City.

Aeroplanes were descending onto the runway, their colorful lights twinkling in the sky. A Dassault Falcon 900, a private jet from France, landed at the airport.

Beneath, a few people were waiting, alongside a dozen cars, including stretch Lincolns, Mercedes-Benz, and others. Inside the terminal, many onlookers were curious about the scene.

They wondered if some VIP had arrived.

Victor, in a black short-sleeved shirt, walked out of the cabin, followed by Casare, Kennedy, and Jason Bourne.

This private jet was actually owned by the Tijuana Cartel!

After the Benjamin brothers died, their wealth was of course confiscated.

Three private jets were at their disposal.

Based on real estate valuations, the Benjamin brothers' assets "provided" over 700 million US dollars to Victor, and that didn't count overseas.

Eliminating drug traffickers is the only right path!

"Director Victor, welcome, welcome. I am Mr. Cuauhtémoc's secretary; my name is Nunez."

The middle-aged man at the front of the welcoming crowd quickly extended his hand.

Victor shook his hand with a smile, "Sorry to have kept you waiting."

"Not at all, not at all. Mr. Cuauhtémoc is waiting for you at the banquet, please get in the car," Nunez opened the door of the stretch Lincoln.

But Victor shook his head with a smile, didn't move, and glanced at Jason Bourne, who then spoke up, "Mr. Nunez, our own cars have arrived, please allow them to come in."

The middle-aged man was taken aback, but quickly understood, closed the car door, and had his subordinates coordinate at the airport. Soon, a convoy drove in, led by an armored vehicle equipped with anti-armor protection, followed by over a dozen cars.

"You just lead the way at the front, we'll follow."

Nunez nodded, watching Victor get into his car.

He wasn't in the habit of riding in others' cars. What if someone had planted a bomb inside? Then he'd have to start over in the next life.

Victor admitted that he had many enemies; many people wanted him dead, so he had to be careful.

Nunez got into the car, glanced in the rearview mirror, and told the driver to go.

Nearly thirty cars began to move towards the outside.

"That's really cool!"

Many men on the airport terminal watched this scene with shining eyes, wishing they could be in their place.

National Palace. Moctezuma II Hall.

Soft, soothing music played in the background, making it look like a gathering of successful men and women chatting with acquaintances.

Naturally, Cuauhtémoc, being one of the protagonists, had the most people around him.

Jonathan Aragon from the Mexican News Group introduced people to him on the side, "This is Mr. Carlos Stam. He is the founder of the Carso Group, the major shareholder of Mexico Telecom, and the CEO of America Movil."

He pointed to a man who wasn't very tall, even somewhat portly, with a balding head, a round, kindly face.

Hearing the name, Cuauhtémoc's brows flickered as he looked at him with a deep gaze and a smile, "Hello."

"Good evening, Mr. President."

"This is Lirido Salinas, the founder of the Salinas Group."

Jonathan Aragon pointed to another man.

This surname was well known; he was from the former president Carlos's people, his gaze not very friendly, even containing a mix of complexity and hostility.

"Congratulations, Mr. President, you've finally gotten what you wanted!" His words were also laced with a hint of gunpowder.

"Thank you. I hope I can get Mexico back on track and correct some of the mistakes made by certain individuals," Cuauhtémoc retorted with equal force. His patron was long gone, and here he was, speaking to me like this?

Make a list! Make a list!

As Jonathan went through introductions one by one, Cuauhtémoc's expression changed as he found the last person somehow familiar. He furrowed his brows and suddenly, as if remembering something, raised his hand to stop the introduction mid-sentence, "You are Hector Beltran Leyva!"

"You recognize me?" Hector was also a bit stunned.

Nonsense!

Victor had sent Cuauhtémoc detailed information about the key figures and relatives of several drug trafficking organizations. Cuauhtémoc had perused it a few times, remembered it well, mainly because Hector had a distinctive, donkey-like face.

"What does this mean? How can a drug trafficker be inside the National Palace?" he shouted angrily, pointing at Jonathan. It was impossible they didn't know.

Cuauhtémoc's cultivation and quality failed him as he couldn't help but curse aloud!

He despised drug traffickers to his very bones. He had spoken more than once in public about wanting to eradicate them. Yet here was a drug lord, standing before him brazenly. Was this not mockery?

Utterly corrupt!

His voice immediately spread throughout the hall, and everyone curiously looked over.

"Get out! Get out! Guards!" Cuauhtémoc shouted loudly.

Hector's expression darkened.

Jonathan hurriedly grabbed his arm, covering his mouth, "Quiet, Cuauhtémoc! He's here to negotiate!"

"Negotiate? When was there talk of negotiation? I don't negotiate with drug traffickers, and the Mexican Government doesn't negotiate with drug traffickers! Get him out."

"Sir, the Mexican Government is not you, and it may not always be you," Lirido from the Salinas Group spoke up, looking at him with an ominous gaze.

"Perhaps, sir, you should consider the possibility of negotiating with drug trafficking organizations," Carlos Stam chimed in from the side.

A huge pressure made Cuauhtémoc involuntarily take a step back.

He turned to look at Jonathan, who was silent and looking down, making him feel an even heavier sinking feeling. Damn it!

A puppet, am I?

He looked around and saw bandits aiming to undermine Mexico.

He was utterly at a loss.

"Who the hell said anything about negotiating with drug traffickers!" A loud voice came from the door, filled with suppressed anger.

Everyone's gaze naturally shifted, and Cuauhtémoc nearly cried with relief hearing that familiar voice.

Victor strode in, his eyes scouring all those present.

"Who mentioned negotiating? Step forward, let me see you. When Mexico didn't have me, you negotiated with drug traffickers, and now with me present, you still want to negotiate. What's the point of my coming then? Who! Who said it!"

His gaze settled on the small circle next to Cuauhtémoc. His eyebrows twitched, he walked over, and his eyes scanned over Jonathan and the tycoons, whom of course he recognized.

"Are you the one who mentioned negotiating?" Victor looked at Lirido Salinas. Before the latter could swallow his words, his face was met with a slap.

Smack!

"I asked you, did you say it?"

Slapping someone?

Lirido Salinas was dumbfounded, but Victor's displeasure showed with another slap, the crisp sound nearly bringing tears to Lirido's eyes.

"Enough, Victor! This is the National Palace ... Ah!!" Carlos Stam frowned and rebuked, but before he could finish his sentence, Victor turned with an elbow strike, knocking him to the ground, then kicked his stomach, "Did I allow you to interrupt!"

"Did I give you permission to interrupt!" Victor stepped on his mouth.

The entire hall fell silent.

It was as if a tiger had stormed into a flock of sheep!