Chapter 98 CJNG!
Governor Rafael Max was killed by drug traffickers?!
According to video surveillance, two idiots killed the security guard and broke into the city hall, pillaging their way up until they finally killed the governor.
This is simply ridiculous.
Why wasn't such an important department guarded by the police?
Answer: The police ran away too.
This isn't the first governor to be killed; in the past 30 years, over 17 governors have been assassinated, including 6 incumbents and 11 former ones.
But this is undoubtedly a provocation against the Mexican Government.
The Presidential Palace announced that over 5,000 military police will be dispatched to carry out an armed drug sweep in the Baja California region, to severely crackdown on the brazen activities of drug traffickers.
In the entire war-torn Baja California, however, there are two unusually safe places, Ensenada City and Guadalupe Island.
To prevent drug traffickers from entering "our territory," Victor reinforced Ensenada City with 100 EDM members and more than 150 Police Auxiliary Staff, as well as three helicopters and each carrying two PRO-A 93-mm Aerosol Bombs made in the Soviet Union!
This weapon mainly relies on the destructive power of an instantaneous explosion after the aerosol explosive absorbs oxygen from the air, destroying bunkers, field fortifications, urban barriers, military equipment, armored vehicles, and eliminating exposed living targets.
If you dare come, I'll show you a bombing!
Victor had been promoted to "Deputy Minister of the Department of Security for Baja California State, Mexico." His police rank remained the same.
According to Alejandro, the position was greased with at least 400,000 US dollars.
For Victor, the effect was apparent.
The original 80 members of the EDM expanded directly to 200!
Now that he had money in hand, Victor spared no expense. Twenty people were molded according to the standard naval template and placed on the "Duke Victor."
The remaining 100 were modeled after the German GSG9 Special Forces.
He had thought of modeling after the SEALs and Delta Force, but each unit's template came at a different price, with the Yanks' being particularly expensive. For Delta Force, they charged an additional 60,000 "usage fee" per person, not to mention other skills; a total set for one person could exceed 150,000 points!
That made Victor's eyes pop with urgency.
An average small-time drug trafficker on the street was worth only about 200 points; 150,000 points would require how many traffickers?
But on second thought, could a Wall Street financier be the same as your stock advisor?
That's talent!
The German GSG9 Special Forces were cheaper, only 20,000 "usage fees," and no more than 70,000 points per person.
But just thinking about it was terrifying; the EDM's whole team was benchmarked against Europe's most elite special police force, which in Germany consisted of only about 320 people. If Victor kept expanding like this, his whole team could end up Special Forces.
The Mexican Government's anti-drug operations had been going on for almost 3 months, but to no effect.
Instead, the number of deaths was rising day by day.
In just three months, over 700 military police had died, and over 1,000 drug traffickers had perished.
Both sides were trapped in a state of tension.
March 27, 1990.
Victor was inspecting his own factory; he had opened two garment processing plants, one green vegetable import and export company, and three crop purchasing companies in Ensenada City.
Altogether, they could employ over 3,000 people! Discover hidden stories at mvl
Nearly 400 million US dollars swept from drug traffickers was all smashed down here. Of course, this money was also spent on infrastructure on Guadalupe Island, and there were still big gaps to fill.
Every day he opened his eyes, he had to think about money.
These factories would still need some time before they could start operating.
Fortunately, half a year of construction had completely changed the island, at least making it much more suitable for human habitation.
But many projects still required funding; they couldn't just be abandoned halfway.
He had to find a way to get some money.
Perhaps...
Go trouble the drug traffickers?
"Boss! Major General Ichagre, the head of the anti-drug unit, was blown up this morning in a hair salon by Juarez Armando and his men," Casare said, covering his mouth and whispering.
Victor nodded and turned to the accompanying factory manager, and said gently, "These look good, but you must ensure the workers' benefits. There must be no skimping on wages, and you have to give overtime pay after 13 hours."
If it weren't for the latter part of the sentence, one might truly think Victor was a great philanthropist.
Thirteen hours would tire out even a donkey.
The factory manager nodded and bowed profusely in agreement.
After making another round, Victor left the factory and got into an armored Hummer, sitting down before asking, "Is this news true?"
"Yes, official news from Mexico."
"What was the Major General doing in a hair salon?" Victor frowned.
Casare also shook his head, uncertainly saying, "Looking for a prostitute?"
Well, that's quite possible!
"Do we have any information on this General Ichagre?"
"Couldn't find much, it's not very complete," Casare said with his head down.
This wasn't like after the Millennium, where you could just hit the Enter key on Wikipedia or something similar to get information; a lot had to be done manually, which was very cumbersome.
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But Victor felt it was about time to establish his own intelligence department. He couldn't rely solely on external news and official intelligence for information.
What they allowed you to see might not necessarily be correct, but what they didn't want you to know was definitely accurate.
The death of Major General Ichagre was definitely not that simple, which also indicated that the drug enforcement team was now headless; it was likely they would be pulled out for reorganization.
After all the fighting, they hadn't even eradicated the drug traffickers, which made one wonder if they were genuinely incompetent or impotent despite their intentions.
Perhaps, the Mexican Government would have to redeploy troops from elsewhere.
This was his intuition.
Back at the Ensenada City Hall, as soon as Victor saw Alejandro, he noticed the latter's weary eyes and worried look, and even the usually non-smoker had cigarette butts on his table.
When Alejandro saw Victor, he lifted his head, "Victor, I'm afraid we might have to go and suppress the drug traffickers."
...
At that moment, in a mansion in Mexicali.
Abrego was petting an orange cat, which seemed to be enjoying itself with its eyes squinted.
"Are you saying the Mexican Government intends to send Victor to suppress us?"
The man standing in front of him was dressed in a suit, and his work badge was still pinned to his chest, obviously having come here straight from work without even clocking out.
It read: Baja California Senior Judicial Police Commander: Jose Herrera Duarte.
When Abrego asked his question, the man bowed and nodded, "I saw the document from the higher-ups; it's written just like that."
As soon as he finished speaking, a stack of US dollars rolled toward his feet.
Joy appeared on Jose's face; he had chosen to come in person rather than calling, exactly for this reason.
"Thank you! Thank you!"
He picked up the money, stashed it into his pocket, and left under the guidance of a servant.
In the hall.
It was very quiet.
Suddenly, Abrego's hand tightened, harshly choking the orange cat's neck. The animal struggled violently, scratching the man's hand, but he seemed utterly unfazed by the pain.
Once the cat was strangled to death, he casually tossed it aside and narrowed his eyes.
"Victor!"
"Let's see who will stand victorious this time!"
Abrego was full of confidence; he had formed an assassin squad of over 2000 men using weapons bought from El Mencho, causing Juarez and Sinaloa to retreat step by step, and it seemed they would soon give up the struggle for Baja California.
If Victor were to come now, Abrego would make sure he understood what fury meant.
He would settle new scores and old ones all at once!
He picked up the phone and called his underling El Mencho, whom he had kept his promise with by letting him go to Jalisco to organize drug trafficking.
However, he had heard that the kid had roped in his own siblings and even formed an organization called "Jalisco New Generation."
Abrego didn't care, as long as you obeyed and operated under the name of the Gulf Group, it didn't matter what you called yourself.
In Mexico, anyone could start an organization.
"Boss," El Mencho's muffled voice resonated from the other end of the line.
That was just his temperament, and Abrego didn't mind. He directly ordered, "Bring your men over. We are going to confront Victor!"
There was a moment of silence from El Mencho.
Abrego's right eyelid twitched.
"Sorry, Abrego, but I've decided to strike out on my own."
"!!!"
El Mencho ended the call right after saying that.
Abrego was dumbfounded.
I'm calling you to fight Victor with me, and you decide to go solo?
Address me by my first name?! Are you that scared of death?
He stood up angrily and smashed his phone to the ground. What else could he do except curse in rage?
El Mencho had chosen the perfect time; with Victor's arrival, Abrego wouldn't have the time to trouble him, and if the latter truly intended to mess with him regardless, he would have to give up the Baja California region.
To surrender the income of several billion dollars a year, after thousands had died—was it even possible to simply let go?
Did Abrego have that kind of resolve?
El Mencho was very cunning. Once Victor and Abrego engaged, his Jalisco New Generation could lay down roots in this territory.
He believed Abrego had no future.
Nothing beats the sensation of being the boss, and that was one thing El Mencho was sure about.
He had his exit strategy all planned out, just waiting for this moment.
...
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