Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 376: Bastard on the left, bastard on the right, and a giant turtle in the middle!
That reporter is obviously a Japanese devil!

Hearing Goebbels' slander, he was very angry, "We Japan are an independent country!"

"Then why did your emperor call MacArthur dad? I think his son is definitely an American. Go back and ask how many times your emperor's wife was raped by MacArthur to see if she spread the seeds."

Goebbels has no manners at all, but it is true that Japan is too close to the United States.

Haven’t you heard that the two dogs of Eagle Sauce, Japan and South Korea, the left one is called Baga and the right one is called Xiba? These are the people Victor hates the most.

Er Gouzi is the most annoying!

"idiot!"

The Asian reporter was obviously an extreme royalist. When he heard Goebbels scolding the emperor, he didn't know how to refute him because what he said might be true.

According to gossip…

MacArthur and Empress Kōjun really had an affair, and at that time, Hirohito was behind it. This is recorded in unofficial history.

what?
What unofficial history are you talking about?
If you know, can it still be called wild?

The Japanese reporter cursed loudly, rushed onto the stage, and rushed towards Goebbels with his teeth bared. He wanted to show this man what the blood of a Showa man was!
boom!!
There was a muffled sound, and then a figure was seen "flying".

The reporters sitting below were trembling with fear. They didn't dare to say a word. They saw it all clearly. When the Japanese reporter rushed forward, the bodyguard standing next to Goebbels kicked him.

failure!

The authors from Latin America looked a little dim for a moment, but they immediately perked up and had already thought about the front page this time.

"Mexico's Minister of Propaganda was assassinated? Was the assassin a royalist?"

"Japan wants to take over Mexico, but the assassination attempt on Goebbels fails!"

They are all people who would rather die than let their fellow Taoists die.

The Japanese reporter fell to the ground and curled up. The security guard rushed over, pinned him to the ground, and dragged him out by his hair.

"Gentlemen!"

Goebbels' eyes were vicious, "In Tijuana, please show proper respect."

"If you don't give..."

He was silent for a moment, then said in a loud voice, "We will educate you on behalf of your parents."

"From now on, ban Japanese media!"

Goebbels left with a sour expression.

But since then, no one has seen this Japanese reporter again.

You are looking for death, and the Mexicans will certainly do as you wish.

After coming out of the press conference, he just returned to his office when the phone on the desk rang. It was the Governor's Office calling him and the general wanted to see him.

He jumped up before he even sat down, and hurriedly called his secretary and driver.

"Leader, do you want to call for more security personnel?" asked the secretary.

"No, aren't two enough?" Goebbels waved his hand. "Tijuana is safe enough."

This is confidence!

In Tijuana, if you want to buy a gun on the black market, there are people who dare to sell it, but there are also people who dare to report it. For each report, you will be rewarded with 10 pesos and can get 1% of the trafficker's assets.

Some people are staring at it.

Tijuana now has a population of over 1100 million, some of whom are foreigners. If you want to "immigrate" from here, every human trafficker has an official license, and the Governor's Office takes 60% of it!

No matter where you come from, if you mess around in Mexico, you will lose your "immigration" qualification and can only follow human traffickers from other small mountainous areas. Not only will the price be high, but success is not certain.

The difference between legal and illegal.

Generally speaking, for the sake of their American dream, these foreigners are also very honest.

Two Mercedes-Benz cars drove out of the Propaganda Department and headed towards the Governor's Palace. They had government license plates, so generally no one dared to mess around.

Victor's majesty seeps into every sewer in Tijuana.

Goebbels sat in the back seat, reading a book.

"Beep, beep!" The driver honked the horn hard, looking a little anxious. He raised his head and saw three large trucks parked side by side in front of him.

"There's a traffic light ahead."

"But, you can't stop like this at the traffic light. It's not allowed in downtown Tijuana. These people are crazy!" the bodyguard complained.

The speaker may not have intended this, but the listener may have taken it to heart.

Goebbels' heart skipped a beat, and he looked back abruptly, his pupils constricted, and he saw a heavy truck rushing towards him from a distance!!!

"Get out of the car! Get out of the car!" he shouted loudly, pushed the door open with force, and jumped over the railing next to it.

The bodyguard driving the car was startled, but reacted quickly. He pressed the seat belt and ran down. Before he could jump over the railing, he heard a bang and a violent collision. The strong impact of the heavy truck squeezed the two Mercedes-Benz cars under the truck in front.

It turned directly into a pancake!

In the front car, blood and human body parts seeped out...

The secretary and bodyguard sitting in this car were gone!
The huge noise scared the people around. They all ran to the side in panic and looked at the scene in horror.

The remaining bodyguard drew his gun and vigilantly surrounded Goebbels.

"Don't let him get away!"

The Propaganda Minister pointed at the driver who staggered out of the heavy pickup truck and said.

The bodyguard hesitated and shook his head, "The main thing now is to protect your safety!"

But there was no need for him, as the area was a busy downtown area with many police officers. When the car accident happened, the police arrived immediately. When they saw Goebbels, the captain of the team shuddered.

"Sir!"

"Control the man for me!"

"Yes!"

The drivers of the four large trucks were pinned to the ground.

Goebbels looked gloomy.

The incident was quickly reported to the Governor's Palace in Tijuana. Victor was furious and asked George Smiley to rush to the scene, while Chief of the Guard Joseph Joffre went to the hospital to visit Goebbels.

squeak~
After the heavy pickup truck was driven backwards, the two Mercedes-Benz cars that were sandwiched inside finally screamed and the scene was a mess.

It started to rain lightly.

George Smiley turned down the umbrella offered to him by his subordinate.

MD, if it can’t be solved, what about getting wet in the rain?

Go home and farm!

"Sir, Mr. Goebbels' secretary and bodyguard are dead." The rescue team came over and said.

George Smiley nodded. "Did the drivers say anything?"

"The driver of the car behind said he dozed off and didn't see the car in front. The driver in front said he just didn't like being in the back when he was in a parallel lane..."

"Dozing off, huh."

"Let's go, bring him to the interrogation room. I want to see how sleepy he is!"

This incident must have been a premeditated assassination.

Victor is annoying, but his security level is too high, so he can only target some of his subordinates. Kennedy, the second-in-command of the military, has encountered him twice, one of which was a shooting. Casare has encountered him four times, but this guy is lucky and he was fine all the time.

Close partner Kwauk Mote almost died.

Tsk tsk tsk…

People outside, looking at these people, wish they could eat their flesh, sip their blood, knock their bones, suck their marrow, sleep on their skin, and pull out their hair!

The main reason is that Victor's actions are relatively large. In particular, the deaths of the Shin Bet intelligence chief and the Mossad chief made the already stingy Israelis even more dissatisfied.

It would be strange if there was no revenge.

Unofficial historical records: Jesus said on the side of the road, "Wow, this squid stinks."

Then they killed him.

Before he died, he left a will: "I will fuck you!"

Of course, these are all unofficial histories.

In the underground interrogation room of Mexico's "Information Bureau" intelligence agency.

A torture chamber.

A man had his hands tied and his eyelids were gone, as they were pulled open by a hook. You said you were dozing off, so now I'll make you open your eyes wider and see.

If his chest hadn't been still rising and falling, I would have thought he was dead.

A staff member wearing a mask walked up and gave him an adrenaline shot.

"Can you talk properly?"

This guy was very hard, he just kept going on and ...

"Send him to see room number three." The interrogating staff member's face darkened, and the two people beside him pushed him to the next room. There was a glass room, and looking inside, there was a big stove.

"The sound is loud and clear."

The employee inside gestured OK and pressed a button, and then you could hear the crackling sound of flames and a man begging for mercy and screaming.

"This is a drug dealer who is not very cooperative..." The employee standing next to the driver was still explaining to him. The next second, the drug dealer was carried and forced into the furnace.

The other party struggled hard, but it was of no use. Fire burned up from under his feet and soon engulfed his entire body. Screams came through the loudspeaker.

The driver's body was shaking.

Snap!
A hand was placed on his shoulder, startling him.

"This is the lightest sentence because you just have to be burned to death, but we have others. You know how to cook in the East? We have an iron pot, put the person in it, and light a fire underneath...tsk tsk tsk."

I could feel that man was shaking violently.

Bullshit, who wouldn’t be scared!
The hand on his shoulder squeezed with a little force, and the driver's psychological defenses collapsed immediately.

"One hundred thousand dollars. They gave me one hundred thousand dollars and asked me to kill someone!"

"who…"

"Japanese Trading Company!"

...

It is well known that the Japanese came to Latin America, especially Brazil, after World War II. Their influence and numbers were very large, and at one point their number exceeded 150 million!

They were a "pioneer group" in Brazil, buying land and then protecting it very well, keeping a low profile. However, any discerning person could see their evil intentions, and their reputation during World War II was too bad.

In addition to Brazil, they are also actively cultivating their reputation in other places. They have industries in Venezuela, Canada, Colombia and Mexico.

The Chamber of Commerce is one such form.

There are also about 5 Japanese in Mexico, mainly gathered in a Japanese-style street in the northwest of Tijuana. It mainly features Japanese architecture, cuisine and goods, and provides Japanese restaurants, tea ceremony experiences, shopping and other services.

Also has edging.

There is a "unique product" called the God's Maid. In the past, they were homeless girls. Usually, such girls could be taken home for some money, but later it gradually evolved into a name for women with special professions.

By the way, buying prostitution is illegal in Japan, but there is a bug. You can go out for a meal with a girl with whom you have agreed a price, and then get a room. This is called... a date, and it's a pure bug.

It's the same in Turkey, there are streetwalkers, and they will be beaten to death because of this, and they will be stoned, so before selling, you have to go to the church to find an imam to register for marriage, and then, after the sex, they will bring you to divorce, these are all experiences. (I don't tell ordinary people).

Selling sex is illegal in Tijuana, and Victor doesn't allow it. If it were legal, women would have no protection at all, and many women would go missing.

But there are countermeasures from above and policies downstream. The Japanese are first-class at coming up with new ideas, and this folk street is no exception, attracting many foreign tourists.

Keijiro Yamamoto was standing outside smoking a cigarette, squatting on the ground. There were some groaning sounds coming from inside the house, but it ended after a while. After three or four minutes, a tall white man came out and gave him a thumbs up when he saw him.

He bowed towards the other person and smiled, and after watching the other person walk away, he walked in and saw a woman lying naked on the bed.

"Where's the money!"

The woman pointed to a stack of US dollars on the bedside table, looked greedy, and grabbed it.

"Honey, I don't want to do this anymore. These foreigners are too perverted." The woman whispered, "Let's go back to Japan."

"Go back? We haven't made any money yet! Wait until I make some more money. You're not tired, so you can just lie down and cry."

The woman lowered her head, but her resistance was obvious.

Yamamoto Keijiro frowned, stuffed the money into his pocket, pinched her chin, and warned her, "I'm telling you, you'd better cooperate, otherwise, hehe..."

The woman shuddered as if she thought of something, and nodded vigorously.

The man nodded in satisfaction, "Okay, I'll go outside and find you a customer, you can have a drink of water."

As he said this, he walked out of the door, humming a little tune with great interest. He could have fun again in the evening, but as soon as he opened the door, he saw two policemen standing outside.

"Check your ID."

Keijiro Yamamoto's expression froze. He didn't have any ID. He was just an illegal immigrant. He looked outside and saw dozens of police officers standing outside, checking people.

???

what happened!

Why are you suddenly checking your ID?
Just when he was at a loss, two Japanese old men came trotting over, wearing kimonos, running towards the leader with smiles on their faces and bowing.

"Sir, what are your orders today?"

"Check proof of residence!"

The Japanese old men looked at each other and said in embarrassment, "Sir, this... this... we have met with your Director Santos and we have a good relationship. What do you think..."

"Santos?"

The old man's face lit up with joy and he nodded quickly, but his next words made them feel disappointed.

"I don't know any Santos. Also, look carefully, what is this logo!" The policeman turned sideways and pointed at the armband on his arm.

It was a Crested Caracal holding the scepter in its mouth, looking around with sharp eyes.

"The Thirteen Protectors!!"

It's so damn similar to the uniform of ordinary police officers.

The two old men looked panicked.

The leader pushed them away and said, "Yes, we are here to pick a fight today. Don't make it difficult for us. You should make our purpose known to us. We don't care about life or death!"

The two old men's calves were shaking.

"Now, whoever can report the crime on Fengqing Street can be given a lighter punishment! Is there anyone?"

Yamamoto Keijiro shrank his head. He planned to be a turtle and hide in the back. At worst, he would be sent back. But what did these Thirteen Guardians mean? Why did the two elders look so scared?
He had only been here a short time and didn't quite understand yet.

Just when he was about to pretend to be a grandson, Yamamoto Keijiro suddenly heard a voice behind him, "Sir, I report that someone is trafficking in people and smuggling drugs!"

The word "drugs" immediately attracted the attention of all the police officers, and they all looked over.

Keijiro Yamamoto's legs were shaking and he looked back with a ferocious look.

"Don't talk nonsense, bitch!"

"I'm not kidding. He...he even boasted to me that he was doing something big, assassinating a big shot!"

……

(End of this chapter)