Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 321 is really a beautiful scenery!
Atlanta. Fulton County.

This is a place so small it's hard to find on a map.

But in the eyes of black Americans, this is a holy place!

Because the greatest fighter ever lived here—Martin Luther King.

Even if this person is suspected of plagiarism, has a dissolute private life, and violates doctrine.

Just like the Mahatma created by India, he served as a stretcher bearer for the British in South Africa, but people despised him for being clumsy. He wanted to be a British, but was not accepted because of his skin color.

Then I came up with a plan of non-violent non-cooperation...

Both men were staunch supporters of the slogan, but both died violently in the end.

In a two-story building, the outer walls were a bit mottled, and the glue had even begun to fall off in some places. On the wall was a portrait of Martin Luther King, his eyes looking into the distance.

This is also the residence of his eldest son, Martin III.

Unlike his father.

He was a devout believer who went to the choir every Thursday to bless the "Africans".

When he drove his red Volvo to the parking space in front of his house and got out with his wife and was about to open the door, he heard a horn. Martin III turned his head in confusion and saw a police car parked on the side of the road. Two plainclothes policemen got out of it.

"Good evening, Mr. Martin." The leading white man looked at him and smiled, his hands on his belt.

Martin III looked him up and down, frowning, "Who are you?"

"Senior CIA agent, Augustus." The white man took out his ID and handed it over. Martin III took a look and felt a little relieved. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I have something I want to consult you about. Is that convenient?"

"Of course, please come in."

The white detective waved his hand and pointed at the police car, "Let's just chat in the car."

Martin III thought for a moment and nodded, then said a few words to his wife next to him. His wife said "be careful" in concern and took the child into the house.

The three men walked to the police car and another CIA officer opened the door. Martin III thanked them and just sat in. Before he could speak, a hand suddenly covered his mouth and pressed his head violently against the window. Senior agent Augustus took a 20-centimeter knife and stabbed it into his jaw ruthlessly!
puff…

The blood splattered on the window. Martin III stared with his eyes frozen. The strength of his struggle disappeared in an instant, and he fell inside with his head tilted...

"Let's go!" Augustus and his two companions abandoned the car and fled.

Martin III's wife, who had been watching them from the window, was startled when she saw them running away. Then her face changed and she hurried out the door. When she opened the car door, she saw Martin III's tragic death inside. She felt dizzy and started crying loudly.

“Help! Help…”

Many people living nearby came after hearing the news. When they saw Martin III stabbed in the neck, they were horrified, but they hurriedly rushed him to the hospital.

But it was too late.

Martin Luther King's eldest son has died!

This was big news. When the reporters who heard the news surrounded his widow at the hospital entrance, she was already crying uncontrollably and fell into the arms of a relative with lifeless eyes.

But for American journalists, it doesn’t matter who dies, as long as they have news material. Didn’t you see how happy these people were when Kennedy was beheaded?
Many tabloids are even teasing who will get Jacqueline.

"CIA!"

The youngest son of Martin III, who was standing nearby, suddenly spoke, which immediately attracted everyone's attention. They looked over and saw him gritting his teeth.

"What did you just say? CIA? The American Central Intelligence Agency?" a reporter asked excitedly.

The colleagues next to him all had shining eyes and held their breath.

"They killed my father! I saw it with my own eyes, those bastards killed my father!!"

Oye!
The reporters almost jumped up with excitement. They surrounded the child and kept asking questions, and even directed him to another angle, "So do you want revenge?"

Martin III's widow jumped up, pushed the reporter away, and hugged her child tightly, "No, no, don't ask, don't ask."

But the mother's tears did not move these jackals.

They looked at the child eagerly.

"Of course! I will trample them under my feet mercilessly. I want revenge. I will kill them sooner or later!!"

Very good…kids.

The reporters took the materials and left with satisfaction.

Only the family members were left crying alone at the door...

Those news capitalists published additional issues overnight.

When the sun rose the next day, the news shocked the entire United States!
A large number of black people began to gather in front of Martin III's house!
In the square where Martin Luther King was giving a speech, some people raised their arms and shouted angrily, "Gentlemen! America is killing us, it is killing freedom! It is killing democracy!"

"Our leader is dead, killed by dirty politics, and now, we failed to protect his son, Martin, our child, who died at the hands of the CIA!"

The black man standing on the stage raised his hands excitedly, "We can't hide anymore! Gentlemen, ladies, and children!"

"We should fight!"

"Let America and the world hear the voice of black people!"

"fighting!"

"fighting!"

The voices grew louder, the responses became more fanatical, and thousands of hands were raised in anger.

They began to gather in San Diego and caused riots!
On January 1, a protest broke out in Detroit, where the black population is the largest, and there were clashes with local police. Molotov cocktails were used to attack government agencies. More than 2 people joined the demonstration, and it was impossible to stop it. The Michigan National Guard intervened, but unexpectedly, the blacks had strong firepower!
Including but not limited to AK47, and some heavy machine guns!
The riots gradually evolved into dissatisfaction with the US government.

On January 1, more than a dozen cities including Miami, Washington, Los Angeles, and Houston responded jointly, and more than one million black people took to the streets, shouting the name of Martin Luther King.

Naturally, conflicts arose.

A group of black Americans armed with Scorpion submachine guns stormed into Miami's City Hall and hijacked the big shots who were in a meeting inside.

In fact, anyone with a discerning eye can see that this demonstration is turning into a carnival for criminals!

The gang of black gunmen who held up the city hall were not good people at all. They were a local African-American gang that did everything including drug trafficking, human trafficking and even smuggling.

They want to do something big this time, it's completely...brainstem missing.

Do you understand black people's imagination?
Do you think this is a chance to become famous?

That night, heavily armed U.S. SWAT police raided the city hall, killing 11 robbers inside, and Miami began to implement full martial law.

On January 1, the entire territory fell!

Although black people in the United States are a minority, there are still millions of them. This is what a vast ocean means!
At this time, Langley was the CIA office.

The new director, Stanfield Turner, had a serious expression on his face and was wearing a military uniform. He looked very serious, and even his hair seemed to be standing at attention.

This is my second time staying in Langley!
He served in this position from March 1977, 3 to January 9, 1981. He was the successor to George H.W. Bush and did a very good job during his tenure. After all, those were the years when the Soviet Union was fighting all over the world. He was able to maintain operations during this period and was not killed by the KGB. He was certainly a good hand.

After the deaths of two CIA directors in a row, George H.W. Bush finally could no longer sit still. He personally went to invite Stanfield Turner back and asked him to take charge to calm the growing discontent within the CIA.

He is also an admiral and has good connections in the military.

"As soon as I took office, I was given a big gift." He muttered to himself. Several senior CIA officials sitting opposite him looked at each other, moved their buttocks, and became a little restless.

"Who is the CIA employee who killed that black guy? Have you found him? Where's his intelligence?" He asked three questions in a row, making the deputy director in charge of personnel sweat profusely. He stood up quickly and said, "Director, the person ran away. We found out that it was Augustus from the third team and another employee named Kenya. Augustus has been in the CIA for six years and has been working diligently. This... this is something we never thought of."

"Six years..."

Director Stanfield Turner exhaled, "Why would a six-year employee kill a black man? Don't tell me his political leanings. Have you investigated his intelligence?"

The deputy director shook his head awkwardly.

"Then what are you doing sitting here? Do you want me to arrange a job for you? You idiot, go and check out his interpersonal relationships." Stanfield Turner got angry and picked up an ashtray and threw it at the other person, scaring him so much that he ran out in a panic.

"I'll give you three days. If you can't find the problem, I'll treat you as a problem and solve it. Get lost!"

The other few people responded quickly and ran out in embarrassment.

They stood at the door and looked at each other and sighed at the same time.

"This tyrant..." A deputy director couldn't help but complain.

"Shh, you're courting death. Stop talking nonsense. I'll send you to collect pond water when the time comes. Let's go!" Stanfield Turner certainly understood how his subordinates would scold him, but he couldn't care less. He came to work, not to socialize. You have to let these idiots know who is the boss.

He frowned, holding an analysis report in his hand. All the black people in the country were "held hostage". The best-case scenario is that the economic losses would be as high as tens of billions, and many people would even die!

Based on his decades of experience in intelligence work, he believes that there must be a force behind this riot!

The air smelled of rivalry.

who?

KGB?
He also had a headache when he thought of the name.

The Soviet Union looked like it was going to die, but the CIA still didn't dare to provoke the KGB too much. Why? Those people were crazy.

The Soviets don't understand how to fight a war, but they... are not afraid of death.

But he shook his head again. This kind of fanning the wind was too delicate. It was totally unlike the Soviet rhythm. A place suddenly flashed through Director Stanfield Turner's mind.

Mexico!?

"Could it be him?"

...

A garbage dump in Mexicali, Mexico!

Augustus and the other man who led the black riot were still a little scared sitting in the office.

They managed to escape with great difficulty!
God knows how much they suffered.

I got on that garbage truck and arrived at the border. I almost vomited from the fumes. It is said that now the two of them are wanted in the country!

Augustus felt a trace of regret in his heart.

squeak~
The office door was pushed open from the outside. The two people looked over in surprise and saw a man wearing sunglasses walking in, followed by other people, all of whom were very capable.

"Mr. Augustus?"

The man took off his glasses, revealing a pair of calm eyes. He smiled and stretched out his hand, "Augustin Przewczyr, Director of the Foreign Military Intelligence Agency."

Augustus quickly extended his hand to shake his.

"You...I have done everything you asked me to do, but where is the money?" he asked nervously.

Augustin Przewczyn looked behind him and saw a subordinate coming over with a bag and throwing it on the ground with a dull sound.

"The total is $30!"

"There's also a check for $40 inside. Just go and pick it up when the time comes."

Augustus couldn't wait to squat down and unzip his pants, and sure enough, there was Franklin's face inside. He kissed the check happily.

Why be a spy?

For money!

How long would he have to work on his salary of $70? Although he sounds like a senior agent, he is actually just an errand boy!

With this money, he can kill a black man without any problem!
"Here are your passports and plane tickets. We have prepared a mansion for you in the Maldives."

Augustin Przewczynski took out two notebooks from his pocket and handed them over.

"Thank you, thank you!" Augustus said hurriedly, reaching out to take it, but it didn't move after a few tugs. He raised his head in confusion, "Sir?"

"You won't tell anyone, right?"

Augustus was startled, but then he patted his chest and said, "Of course! I have morals!"

Augustin Przewczyr nodded and looked at him. "I don't believe it."

After saying that, he turned around and left.

Augustus and the other man were startled, and suddenly they saw two men standing at the door walk in, take out guns from their arms, and in front of their confused gazes, they shot...

Clear all the magazines!
"Find some trash to clean out the stove and get rid of the body."

The person in charge of the garbage dump nearby nodded quickly and said, "Leave it to me."

Augustin Przewczyn nodded, got into the car and left the garbage dump under the protection of his bodyguards.

This is on the border, so when the car drives past, you can see the United States on the other side at a glance. Outside the makeshift steel wire, you can see scattered people crawling inside.

America is too dangerous!

Some people still understand that returning to Mexico will at least give them food to eat.

Over there...

You don't even know when you will be hacked to death by the local white gangs.

Mexicali is close to Calexico, California. This city is an active base of the Aryan Brotherhood. The unrest caused by Mexican drug dealers and refugees has affected their interests, so of course they have to suppress them!

In the past, there were basically gunfights every two days, but now there are almost gunfights every day.

too frightening…

They are coming back!
But can you come and go to Mexico as you please?
There are patrols on the border, and when they see people sneaking across the border, they open fire.

really…

As soon as Augustin Przewczyr discovered it, he saw an off-road Hummer coming from a distance with a sign saying: Border Police. There was also a heavy machine gun on the Hummer, which was firing at the illegal immigrants climbing the tightrope!
There were quite a few people gathered below, and they ran away the moment they heard the gunshots.

Only a few corpses were left.

If I had known this, why did I do it in the first place?
Augustin Przewuchir watched all this with a calm expression.

The mobile phone beside him rang, and he picked it up, "Hello."

"Director, we found traces of the KGB!"

"Soviet? What is he doing in North America? Is he lost?" Augustin Przewczyr raised his eyebrows.

"We held him down, but the man said he wanted to see you and claimed he had something you wanted."

"what?"

"He won't tell you until he sees you."

Augustin Przewczyr's face turned cold. "Then break his teeth. I hate the Riddler the most."

"If all else fails, let him try our other dishes, and he'll tell you."

He hung up the phone immediately.

What kind of people want to see me?

Nonsence!

Just two minutes later, the phone rang again. Augustin Przewczyr answered it and heard an excited voice from the other end, "Chief, he confessed!"

"so fast?"

"I broke his teeth and made him swallow them back."

Ok…

The means are good.

"What's in his hand?" The director was very curious about this question.

"He has a list of Soviet spies in 10 countries including Britain, the United States, France, and Germany!"

Augustin Przewczyn's eyes lit up.

操!
"Keep an eye on him. Don't let him die. I'll be back soon."

This is a big fish caught!!
……

(End of this chapter)