Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 12; Baron!

Catch the last bus back to prison.

Holder took the stolen Beetle and disposed of it. There were many second-hand car dealers in Mexico who sold it to fund the organization's activities.

After getting off the car, standing by the lonely stop sign, you can see the heat of the "Night Market" not far away. Even if there was an attack just two days ago, weren't there still dead people?

Whoever dies will still be able to prevent the earth from rotating?

When Kennedy died, it didn't stop Americans from partying, right?

"A batch of goods will arrive from the Soviet Union in two days. Sell it as soon as possible." Victor said with a cigarette in his mouth.

Casare's eyes lit up as he tasted the sweetness, "How many?"

“10把AK47，1万发7.62mm子弹、10枚防-1式手榴弹，单子比较大。”

Victor looked at his points at this time. There are currently 2028 points. 10 AKs are 1500 points. Bullets are very cheap and almost free. 1 point can be exchanged for 100 points, which is 100 points, and grenades are 200 points in total. , I still have 228 points left. I can wait two days to find a few unlucky criminals and kill them, and I will have points again.

In places like Mexico and Colombia, dangers and opportunities coexist.

It was so suitable for Gao Mou that the drug dealers couldn't kill them all.

When Casare heard this number, his whole body was trembling, and he was mumbling in his mouth, as if he was calculating. Even though this batch of goods looked small, it was completely capable of fighting a small-scale war.

Brother Hao relied on two AKs and the old-fashioned Black Star to dare to suppress the Flying Tigers. At this time, the "Special Mission Company" did not dare to raise its head.

You have 10 AKs, 1 rounds of ammunition, plus grenades.

Who are you going to attack?

Handguns are not standard issue in many Mexican police departments.

"How to price it?"

"The AK is the same as usual, 800 US dollars, five bullets for 1 US dollar, and grenades for 5 US dollars. If you want them all, it can be cheaper."

Casare took out his hands and was obviously not very good at math.

But he knew that he could earn at least 600 US dollars from this order, and his fat face was shaking, "I'm getting rich, I'm getting rich."

"Get to know more people in the Second Ward. The people detained here are the backbones of various organizations, and they are also our potential customers. We will sell large quantities of goods in the future, and they have money and can afford it."

"I understand."

In order to make some money, it is not easy at all. The police have to please the prisoners appropriately.

"By the way, did you hear about the Fremont Holder thing that Best was talking about in the bathing place just now? It's so inspiring."

"Man, it's inspiring for Mexico to be the boss, but it doesn't mean it's the right path. You don't know when you will die. You don't want your head to kiss your ass, right?"

The two of them chatted and entered the prison. Seeing them coming back so early, the guard asked, "Casare, were you defrauded of all your money by a girl from the market?"

As for Victor?
He didn't dare to ridicule. They even dared to beat up the drug lord in the third prison district, let alone him?

Casare responded with a middle finger, which is universal.

When they separated in the dormitory, Victor brought him two more boxes of Colt bullets and told him to pay attention to safety and shoot first if the situation seemed wrong.

Seeing that he was so cautious, Casare agreed.

Back in the room, Victor opened the diary, and suddenly the person Best mentioned came to mind.

The story of Fremont Holder.

It's quite legendary.

……

Freemont Holder was a gangster, and he also had a tragic life experience. He heard that his family was also killed by drug dealers, so he decided to become a policeman.

But the Mexican police did not dare to cause trouble to drug dealers.

He thought of a way to break into the gang's sales bar single-handedly and robbed 4000 US dollars of goods!

According to 1987 standards, killing a person in Mexico cost about "1200 pesos." Of course, what you are looking for is not a member of an organization, but a kid on the roadside who knows how to do it.

Of course, this is 1989, so prices may have gone up or prices may have gone down.

After all, social unrest and welfare reductions are beginning to lead to involution.

But $4000 is enough to sell your soul.

In this world, interests come first. Even if you are your best friend or brother, as long as there is a conflict of interest, you will forget everything. People's hearts are very complicated. Money can not only make people go around, but also make people go around. Bullshit.

But it just so happens that Holder has "cheap" morals and he harbors hatred. When he closes his eyes, he can see his parents and brothers and sisters asking him, why not take revenge?

He can't sleep.

He originally thought that this would be the end of his life, that he might die on the street and be collected by the people in the workhouse, and then no one in the world would remember you anymore.

But he is not reconciled!
He wants revenge. Since he is a drug dealer, he will fight violence with violence!
He has a flexible moral bottom line.

This world is all about ruthlessness. If you are not ruthless, your status will be unstable.

If you can't be famous for eternity, then work until you are infamous for eternity.

You are also missed on Day of the Dead.

He knew he needed help, so he took a taxi to the La Condesa area. When he got in the car, he took out his gun. The taxi driver immediately became honest.

Looking at the neatly laid out houses around him, a trace of nostalgia flashed in his eyes. He also lived here before.

Lamely, I followed the house number to No. 27. The dog in the yard had already smelled the visitor and kept barking.

A strong man of about 30 years old came out. He stood at the door and yelled at the dog. When he saw a figure standing at the door, he felt frightened and subconsciously planned to run back.

"Ryan, don't you recognize me?"

Holder took a step forward, and the moonlight mixed with the faint light in front of the yard illuminated his face.

As soon as the strong man saw him, his expression changed instantly. He walked over quickly and opened the door, "Holder! Are you still alive?!"

"God doesn't need my soul." Holder laughed, his voice hoarse, "I'm not dead."

"Come in quickly, don't let that damn Song Wu see you." Ryan seemed to have thought of something and dragged him into the house.

Songwu was the neighbor who killed his entire family. As you can tell from his name, his father is Vietnamese and his mother is Mexican, a hybrid.

Ryan is his friend who grew up together, and their parents also have a close relationship.

"It's great that you're still alive! I thought you..." Ryan was obviously very excited when he saw Fa Xiao. The grown man's eyes were red and he gritted his teeth. "I knew it was your house on fire, so I felt strange. I called the police, but the police didn't come to see you, they just said it was a fire. If Songwu hadn't been drunk and yelled on the street to admit that he killed you, I wouldn't have known that he was the murderer!"

"Later, my brother Arrieta also went to the police, but the police said that Songwu was talking nonsense while drunk, and there was no evidence that he was the murderer."

Seeing that there were still people running for him, Holder was moved, "Where's Arrieta?"

Ryan lowered his head, "Dead."

Holder was shocked, "How could that happen?"

"When I was out of school, I was hit and killed by a mud truck. The murderer went to jail, but I know it was not an accident."

Silence is the lament of impotence.

Tears are the most fundamental weakness of the weak.

"Song of martial arts!" Holder gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and looked at Ryan, "Do you want revenge?"

Ryan looked up sharply.

"I figured I could go it alone and need help. I know you served in the Mexican Army and I wanted you to join."

"You want to be a drug dealer?!" Ryan looked ugly.

When Mexicans think of organizations, they think of crime, and when they think of crime, they think of drug dealers. After all, it is nearly a century old.

"Ryan, we can't change the world or Mexico. All we can do is survive. Don't you want revenge?"

"Mexico does not believe in weak people. People who have no voice are destined to be unable to be accepted. I don't want to... die in a smelly ditch one day. When I close my eyes, all I think about is hatred. I need strength!"

"I believe you will help me."

Ryan looked at him, thought for a moment, and nodded slowly, "I believe you, you won't let me down."

Holder also looked at him and nodded heavily, "No, let's collect some interest first and come back. Who else lives in his house?"

"His mother."

"Kill her!"

"Shaina is a good person." Ryan hesitated.

"Is she a good person? Then she should be sent to see God. God will definitely be happy when he sees a good person!"

Now Holder just needs to collect some interest and come back, "Arrietta is also a good person."

Ryan clenched his fists.

"Kill her!"

Holder's eyes were deep. He just wanted a certificate of surrender. It wasn't that he didn't believe Ryan, but in the past few years, he had seen through that all relationships were bullshit, just like the woman a slum boy was chasing after. You could just spend some money to get it. Can drive.

After killing Songwu's mother, Ryan and himself are really on the same front.

Don't be emotional.

If something goes wrong, it's death in Mexico.

...

Victor had breakfast in the cafeteria, took the key and went to the cell.

When passing by Stepan's "single room", I saw him enjoying care, and there was a woman next to him feeding him fruit with her mouth.

"Bang bang bang~" Victor knocked on the wall with his stick. Stepan, who was feeling comfortable inside, raised his head and immediately retracted the curse words in his mouth.

Damn it, why isn't this bastard dead?
Didn’t the people in Sinaloa say they would kill him?

"Are you surprised to see me? Mr. Stepan." Victor opened the cell door and walked in. When he saw the cut cactus fruit, he took a piece and spit the seeds in his face, making the other party get up in anger.

Victor put the stick in his face, "Do you want to do it again?"

Stepan's whole body ached when he thought about the feeling of being hit with a stick, but his status made him unable to lose face, so he said stiffly, "What's the benefit of offending me?"

Victor smiled and said, "I want you to understand the rules. On my territory, you have to coil up if it's a dragon, and you have to lie down if it's a tiger. Where's the greeting gift I told you? You didn't give me any supplies?"

He said, swinging the stick and sliding it down, pressing against his baby.

"Here, I'll give it!" He was so frightened that he hurriedly said, you can't get hurt in this place.

He got up from the bed and walked to the safe. Yes, there was a safe. He took out a stack of U.S. dollars and handed it to him.

This stack looks like there are about 2.3000.

"It would be better if I handed it over sooner."

Victor took as much as the other party gave him. He was not timid at all. He patted him on the shoulder and said, "Play slowly."

Before leaving, he closed the door for him.

Victor took just two steps towards the prison area when he heard a deep voice that was very abrupt.

"Aren't you afraid of offending him?"

He turned his head and saw a thin middle-aged man sitting in the cell in a panic. He raised his head, his eyes as sharp as an eagle.

Victor blinked.

You can see the red points at a glance.

"1078000!"

"Cicily Falcon!!"

……

　Tuesday, that is, tomorrow, the publication time is 12 o'clock in the morning. I hope friends who like it will follow up and read more. For recommendation, thank you.

(End of this chapter)