Working as a police officer in Mexico

Chapter 150 Dog-headed Strategist—Guzman!

"Let me go! Let me go! I can give you a lot of money. I can give you whatever you want."

Carlos sat on the ground waving his hands and shouting loudly.

Harris looked at him condescendingly and suddenly tugged on his clothes angrily.

"What we want is never money, what we want is to eradicate drug dealers. Do you remember what happened in the GAFE special forces in 1987?"

Carlos looked at him.

Harris stared at him, seeing the confused look on his face, he was furious, "You asked my captain to transport drugs to the US-Mexico border for you, but we refused, what did you do to us?"

"You betrayed all the information about our family to drug dealers. My wife, my children, my parents, and my brother were all beaten to death by drug dealers!"

"You betrayed us! When you were colluding with drug dealers, did you ever think of letting us go?"

Harris pushed him away and said in a cold tone, "Traitors should be eliminated!!"

The two police officers behind him came up and put a plastic bag around his neck, and then pulled hard, but Carlos still wanted to struggle.

This hand was instantly pierced by the dagger!

Protective umbrella for drug dealers!

That's how it should be treated.

Bullets are the most polite form of death.

Carlos's struggle gradually weakened, and in the end, he fell limply to the ground.

"Head, troops are coming!" The anxious voice of the peripheral security personnel sounded in the communication tool.

Harris took a deep look at Carlos on the ground, took out his gun and fired three more shots at the body, two shots in the head, "Retreat!"

The rain was getting heavier and heavier, and it made a thumping sound on the ground, which was very disturbing.

After they ran for about ten minutes, Valdez received the news and hurriedly arrived with the operations department of the intelligence agency.

Seeing the corpses on the ground, his legs felt a little weak.

"Quick! Find Mr. Carlos!" Valdez's voice was broken, and the color on his face disappeared.

The agents he brought were busy looking for him.

"Head! Head! Here."

Valdez jumped up and rushed over to the agent who was shouting. He saw the agent squatting and lying on the ground alone.

"It's Mr. Carlos."

When Valdez saw Carlos with a plastic bag on his head, he howled, "Send him to the hospital quickly!"

June 14, 1990, 3 o'clock in the morning!

Mexico City was suddenly under martial law.

And half an hour later, a piece of news suddenly spread throughout Mexico through the media.

Carlos Salinas!

Death!

The news swept the country instantly, and many people held meetings all night long without even sleeping. As for why the TV said there was no death, who cares?

It doesn’t matter what the fuck, everyone is dead.

"Hurry up! Go to San Luis Potosi to find Cuauquemot to take charge of the situation!"

…

Cuaukmote was yawning when he was woken up in the motel. When his secretary said that Carlos was dead, his jaw almost dislocated.

"What did you say? Carlos is dead?"

The secretary looked excited, "Yes! He's dead."

"How did you die?" Quaukmot frowned.

"Our people stationed at the official residence said that a group of unidentified armed men rushed into the official residence last night and...beat him to death."

This is too... nonsensical, right?

The protection capabilities of the Presidential Guard are quite poor.

But then I thought about it, drug dealers can place a few people in the guard, and it is natural for them to be beaten up if they are weak in combat ability.

Unknown armed men?

Drug dealer?

Victor?

Victor!

Quaukmot's instinct told him that it was definitely him. Just when he was about to call to inquire, he heard a lot of noise outside.

"what happened?"

"Sir, there are a lot of people downstairs." The bodyguard at the door called.

Kwaukmot opened the window and saw that at some point, hundreds of people were standing densely packed, and more and more people were approaching, holding banners in their hands.

It was too dark to see clearly.

But their voices were cheering, very chaotic, but slowly becoming united, "Mr. Cuauquemot, please go to Mexico City!"

"Mr. Cuauquemot, please go to Mexico City!"

…

It's like someone is rendering it underneath.

But so many people were calling his name, which made Kwaukmot a little excited, and his heart was filled with passion.

"Sir, Mr. Honatan Aragon's phone number." The secretary handed over the phone and said softly.

Before Kwaukmot picked up the phone, he heard Honatan on the opposite side speak first, "Congratulations, man!"

"God is clearly not on Carlos' side."

"You've got your Mexico!"

Cuauquemot raised his eyebrows and said, "Thank you, but this is not my Mexico, but that of all the people. And since Mr. Carlos passed away, I will not be the successor. We have to respect the constitution and let the election speak for itself."

Honatan Aragon on the opposite side was quiet for a moment, and after a few seconds he responded with a smile, "Yes, Mexico belongs to all Mexicans, and we respect the Constitution."

"Me and some of my friends would like to meet you."

"They will be happy to provide you with any necessary assistance."

Of course he knew who the friend he was talking about was Quauquemot, who was nothing more than a representative of some consortia or some foreign groups. Although Quauquemot hated these people, he knew better that Mexico couldn't leave them now.

They don't care who becomes the president, as long as their interests are guaranteed. If they don't understand current affairs, then the achievements will be taken away by others.

Sometimes, compromise is an art.

"It's a great honor for me. Let's meet when I get to Mexico."

Honatan Aragon breathed a sigh of relief, as long as he cooperates, his tone was much more relaxed, "Then I wish you in advance, the National Palace of Mexico welcomes you!"

After hanging up the phone, Kwaukemot's originally surging mood suddenly dimmed.

"A new struggle begins!"

…

Sinaloa Culiacan!

In Guzman's mansion.

Aguilar from Juárez and Abrego from Gulf Group, the Big Three sat quietly, smoking cigarettes non-stop.

"Where is the Michoacan family?" Aguilar raised his head and asked.

"They are at war with a group of new forces called Jalisco New Generation, and they have no time to attend this meeting." Guzman said calmly, looking at Abrego next to him, "It is said that their leader is called El Mencho!”

Abrego had a gloomy look on his face. Although "El Chapo" didn't say any insulting words, his dignity seemed to have been challenged, "I will deal with this traitor myself!"

Guzman glanced at him and said, "How long do you think we can continue to fight among ourselves?"

"?What do you mean?"

"Carlos is dead. If there is no accident, the next person to come to power will be Cuauquemot. He will definitely have zero tolerance for the drug trafficking industry. This may be a huge challenge for our business."

"If he gives more support to Victor, our living space will gradually be compressed. By then, not only will we not make any money, but everyone will die!"

"Mexico cannot live without drugs." The Gulf Group spokesman said with a heavy voice.

"But that's the challenge, isn't it? Baja California...is gone!"

Aguilar and Abrego immediately fell silent when they heard this.

"you mean?"

"If you can't beat them, surrender," Guzman said.

"???Are you kidding me!" Abrego, who had a somewhat grumpy temper, stood up immediately, "Surrender, surrender is not in my dictionary!"

"You can add it to your dictionary."

Guzman looked at him and said, "Calm down and listen to what I have to say."

Abrego glanced at Aguilar, "Do you Juarez want to surrender?"

"Listen to him and continue."

After all, he had served as the commander of the security department, Aguilar said calmly with his legs crossed.

"We have requirements for surrendering. We are allowed to sell drugs and retain our own army, but we can withdraw profits from them and hand them over to the national treasury to improve people's livelihood. We can also maintain local security and promise that they will not have armed conflicts."

"And we accept the arrangements of the local council."

"Just like Pablo."

Colombian Pablo Escobar had certain requirements when he surrendered. He was not allowed to destroy his business, live in a prison he built, and was not allowed to hinder his normal freedom.

In order to make this guy calm down, the Colombian government at the time fully agreed.

Why don't you just change your place and be the uncle?

"Would Kwaukmot and Victor agree?" Abrego expressed doubts, especially the latter, who chased them.

The shit came out.

"We can offer a price that the government can't refuse, Victor? He's just a director!"

"An ordinary director with some weapons and soldiers!"

"After we surrender, we can also use the name of the government to recruit armed personnel. If Victor attacks us again, it will be a civil war!"

"He will become the target of everyone's crusade!"

It has to be said that Guzman is one of the few leaders of the drug cartel who has no brains. Everyone who opposes him has played to death. He is very sinister.

If he can't beat him, he will think of dirty tricks.

"Many high-level officials in Mexico have never thought about real drug control. Maybe they just want us to be quiet and disturb them. As long as we learn to shut up first, they will learn to compromise!"

Aguilar and Abrego looked at each other.

Dog-headed strategist, what a wonderful saying!

"I will arrange for people to contact people who can speak first."

"who?"

"For example: Mexican plutocrats!"

…