Working as a police officer in Mexico

```

June 16.

The sky was very clear.

The streets of Tijuana were still in disarray, with rubble everywhere and severed limbs visible beneath the broken stones and debris.

Svet was busily working with a pair of white gloves on.

He followed the Mexican National Emergency Squad to help a neighborhood street clean up trash. Was this what they called "police and citizens as one family"? Find exclusive stories on empire

That's what Kennedy said.

Besides necessary patrols, most officers were assigned to clean up the streets.

At first, many ordinary people hid in their houses, pointing and commenting, but gradually more and more joined the cleanup crew.

"Come on, kid, have some coke."

Just as Svet wiped his sweat, a pair of withered hands with wrinkled skin stretched out in front of him, holding a cola. He looked up to see an old lady looking at him.

In Mexico, water resources are actually not scarce, but due to a series of unequal treaties signed with the United States, the country has incurred a "water debt". For example, according to the treaty signed in 1944, Mexico must deliver one-third of the water from the main flow of Rio Bravo (referred to as "Rio Grande" by the Americans) to the United States every five years.

People naturally had less drinking water, and that's when Coca-Cola made its entrance into the country, quickly replacing water as the daily drink of choice for people of all ages, which also led to a significant increase in the number of diabetes patients in Mexico after the Millennium.

Seeing Svet did not reach out, the old lady stuffed it into his arms, handed the remaining colas in her bag to Piet and the others nearby, and said to them, "You've worked hard."

This made Svet feel awkward, "We really didn't do much."

"Fighting drug traffickers makes you a hero," she praised, her thumb up with tears in her eyes. "I thought I'd never see this day in my lifetime..."

Svet hurriedly supported her, comforting her, as she rambled, "My son and my grandson were killed by drug traffickers. I really wanted to take revenge, but they saw I was just an ordinary old lady and wouldn't even sell me a gun. In the end, my husband also died in a hospital bed, telling me not to go to the countryside or stay in Tijuana."

"But I couldn't accept it. I waited year after year, almost forgetting who killed my son. But I know there's nothing good about drug traffickers. My leg... they shot and broke it." She said this and pulled up her trousers to reveal a bullet hole.

The old lady wiped her tears, "I went to the police station, I went to the court, but no one took care of me. Some people even advised me not to sue. There are too many backers for drug traffickers, and it's more important to stay alive. But all my family members are dead, what's the point of me living!"

"Thank you all, thank you for killing the drug traffickers. Now... I can also go in peace to see my husband and son." Her voice suddenly grew louder as she wept on Svet's shoulder.

This made everyone around feel somber.

After wiping her tears with her clothing, the old lady touched Svet's face, "God bless you, child."

After speaking, she limped away slowly.

The sight of her desolate figure made Svet's chest swell.

Piet, his childhood friend, sighed beside him, "It's such a pity. If Mr. Victor had appeared earlier, perhaps her family wouldn't have ended like this."

"It's not too late now!" Svet said, "Justice is never a matter of timing but results. When the opportunity is right in front of you, don't let go. Follow Mr. Victor and press the drug traffickers firmly into the trash heap."

"Right, saving Tijuana isn't enough. We need to save the whole of Mexico. Victor must be sent by God. No! Mr. Victor is God!"

People in Mexico really suffer unbearably from drugs.

...

"The National Palace welcomes its new master!"

"Mexico will enter a new era!"

"Cuauhtémoc, the acting president!"

The office desk was covered with Mexico's news, which in the last few days had been dominated by Cuauhtémoc's "arrival" in Mexico City.

Tens of thousands of people, carrying flowers, went to the city gates to welcome him!

A few students adorned him with flowers.

In the camera's eye, he smiled happily.

Victor opened his cigarette case and switched to a cigar; his tastes had changed recently, developing a liking for this wild flavor, with Mexican tobacco as fiery as the local women.

The phone on the desk rang. Without hurry, Victor picked it up, elbow propped on the desk, cigar angled at 45 degrees in his left hand, listening to Cuauhtémoc's voice. Smiling, he said, "Sir, I thought you were still enjoying the fruits of victory."

Cuauhtémoc washed his face with cold water, looking into the mirror and rubbing his reddened eyes before taking his mobile phone and walking out of the restroom, "I used to think I had too much free time, now I feel like I'm so busy I don't touch the ground."

"I've met with representatives from more than a dozen countries, and I still have to preside over Carlos's funeral. I really want to lift his coffin lid, but some party elders hope to give him his last respect."

"The Aragon Family is hosting a dinner in Mexico City tomorrow night. Representatives from foreign companies in Mexico and quite a few local businesses will be there. Will you come?"

"Are you sure they'll be happy if I go?"

"It's time to divide the cake, and I need your help. Only you can make the tycoons step back."

This made Victor laugh.

What... Do you think I am a warlord?

Are you in charge of reasoning, and I'm in charge of flipping tables?

Don't I look very gentle?

It's been a long while since I've personally killed a drug trafficker.

Victor thought about it and indeed, Cuauhtémoc hardly dared to speak loudly without him by his side, but with him present, Victor could smash the loudmouths, naturally making himself the loudest voice.

"? Victor? What's wrong?" Seeing him silent, Cuauhtémoc asked.

"Nothing, I was just thinking whether to bring 500 or 1,000 people."

There was a quiet moment on the other end of the line.

```

Cuauhtémoc gave a forced laugh, "No... no need for that, Carlos is already dead. We need a fast and stable government, Mexico has been absurd for a long time. With their support, we can solve the problem of drug trafficking more quickly, and only after dealing with the drug traffickers can we turn our hands to solve other problems."

"I'm joking, sir, I am a gentleman after all. What time tomorrow?"

"Eight o'clock."

"OK!"

After hanging up the phone, Cuauhtémoc spread his hands, "A gentleman? Damn, when did Victor become so humorous?"

Just as he was rolling up the newspaper on the table, Casare knocked and came in, "Boss, I can tidy up the desk."

"You cleaning up trash as a mayor, isn't that beneath you?" Victor joked.

"What mayor or not, boss, I'm willing to work in any position you like, it's all for the job anyway," Casare said with a smile.

Ah, enlightenment!

You deserve your promotion and fortune.

Finally, I understand why there were so many flatterers around the old Emperor; this skill of flattery truly runs in the blood.

Victor smiled as he put his pen back in the holder, "Don't talk nonsense. If I really sent you to clean toilets, you'd curse me again. Let's talk business. You'll accompany me to Mexico City tomorrow. Mr. Cuauhtémoc is a bit shy; he needs us to make an appearance for him."

"Arrange for some people to go to Mexico City in advance. I don't want to find ourselves short-handed if tables need to be turned."

Casare nodded, "Okay, I'll arrange it. But boss, I think you still need to set up your own security bureau. You can't always pull officers from the ranks."

A security bureau?

Hmm, that does sound prestigious!

Victor gestured nonchalantly, unconcerned. He waited to split the cake in Mexico City, for Alejandro to become the Governor of Baja California, and for himself to climb to the position of Secretary of Public Security for Baja California, right?

Jumping several steps from a small island director, he could directly exchange from Golden Finger later, wouldn't that be more secure than ordinary officers?

Seeing that the boss didn't care, Casare didn't say more. He looked at his watch and reminded, "I think it's time for Armando's public trial."

Armando had been captured a couple of days ago, and Kennedy had reported it, but he hoped for a public trial, to deter the drug traffickers in the city who dumped their guns and then hid in small rooms in a residential area, virtually uncatchable.

Once the household registration system was tightened, these would no longer be problems!

Today was the day of the public trial.

Victor turned on the television and tuned to the Tijuana Television Station.

The scene in front of him was shocking.

Kennedy was hitting the judge on the stage hard with a shoe, "Don't give me that crap, judge. Tell me again, what the hell is it?"

"Say it again!"

The judge was struck with panic, "No evidence, can't convict."

This brave, huh?

Kennedy grabbed the judge's clothes and yanked him down, "Did you take the money? Get down, I'll judge!"

Actually, Mexican judges are pretty badass; they're not afraid of almost anyone, just fearful of drug trafficker retaliation. The American courts had sentenced Quintero to 40 years in prison, yet they could still argue a defense of innocence.

In 2020 Ye Zhenli, such a large drug lord, was known by street dogs for drug trafficking, but he was about to be released.

But faced with... someone even tougher, they would suffer.

Kennedy sat in the judge's seat and waved, "Juarez drug lord Armando, sentenced to stoning! To death!"

His defense lawyer stood up with a swish, but Kennedy pointed at him, "You Four Eyes, I've put up with you for a long time. Don't give me that bullshit. If you say one more unnecessary word, I'll blow you away too."

Stoning!

Armando widened his eyes in horror, struggling violently and moaning, but the police still dragged him away like a dead dog.

"Under Victor's watch, all drug traffickers should be sentenced to death! There must be something wrong with you, judge. Arrest him and search his house."

"Tyranny! Tyrant!" The judge, somewhat old, was so angry he was sputtering, yelling loudly.

The onlookers and jurors around didn't dare say a word.

Didn't they see the policemen holding weapons nearby?

The camera followed Armando as the officers dragged him outside to the ground and tied him up like a dog. Then, a muscular officer bigger than a bun picked up a stone from the ground and smashed it down under his horrified gaze.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah!!!"

With poor aim, he only hit the thigh, instantly twisting it to 90 degrees, the sharp broken bone piercing through the flesh, creating a bloody scene.

The beefed-up officer picked up the stone again and with another blow, the other leg broke.

"Too brutal."

Victor shook his head, lit a cigarette to calm himself, "Take Kennedy with us to Mexico City."

We'll see which tycoon displeases us, and just kill him outright!

"Young people are just too impulsive," Victor muttered as he turned off the television.

When will they be like me?

Cultivating one's moral character!

...