Working as a police officer in Mexico

Actually, when entertaining American guests, many eyes were already watching closely.

Victor was too famous.

As a person in power, even your excrement holds great research value. Just like the CIA, it's said that one of their departments' agents specializes in collecting the feces, saliva, and semen of leaders from various countries because these materials can reveal the state of their health.

Some eyes noticed that someone was missing in such an atmosphere.

Alejandro!

This man, widely considered the number three figure in the "Victor Military Group," had been out of touch for several days.

A group of people with ulterior motives sniffed a certain scent from this.

Could it be...

Was Victor dissatisfied with Alejandro? Had he been ostracized from the core group?

!!!

They had to carefully consider their moves.

A luxury housing area in Tijuana.

Most of the high-ranking officials of the "Victor Military Group" lived here. Previously, this was a development opened by the Tijuana Cartel. After they were eradicated, the property naturally reverted to the public.

Even the smallest residence here was about 700 square meters, including a small swimming pool. In the past, the Benjamin brothers built this development to bribe some high-ranking officials, so there were even very private places inside.

Victor upheld a policy of high salaries to encourage integrity and did not oppose his subordinates living in luxury homes, as long as you behaved, the boss would treat you to the good stuff.

In Villa Number 3, Alejandro's home, his wife and children lived in the United States. In his mind, education, healthcare, and various other conditions over there definitely surpassed those here. Perhaps, even if Victor tried for a hundred years, Mexico would still just be Mexico.

The United States is the world's number one!

In the study.

He was engrossed in writing his diary, the desk lamp on, vaguely illuminating scattered words, but occasionally revealing a sentence or two in full.

"Victor is becoming more dictatorial by the day, and I am not very pleased with his style. He is ruthless in his actions, always looking to exterminate things at the root. Privately, many say that he acts more like a tyrant than a leader. Perhaps, under his guidance, Mexico may not achieve true peace."

!!!

Did Alejandro harbor treasonous thoughts?

His brow furrowed with concern; between the lines, he wrote of his dissatisfaction with Victor, especially with being forced to fabricate information on "31 FBI corpses," which irritated him further as a "spiritual American."

He was the Governor of Baja California, so why did it feel like all power belonged to Victor?

Not everyone wanted to become a Casare.

Yet he dared not express any of his opinions openly, only resorting to writing his gripes in his private journal.

Knock knock knock~ Stay connected with empire

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

"Who is it!" Alejandro abruptly raised his head, quickly shutting the diary, his heart pounding as though caught in an act of infidelity.

"Sir... sir, the guard contacted us, there's a gentleman outside the gate claiming to be your friend," said the maid outside the door, startled by his tone, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. Her Spanish, being a Filipino maid, was quite fluent.

A friend?

Alejandro contemplated for a moment, "Please ask him to wait in the living room."

The maid acknowledged and scurried downstairs.

He secured the diary with a lock that required a three-digit code and then placed it in the safe.

It seemed that he was aware of the importance of the diary's contents.

After putting on his coat and going downstairs, he saw the maid leading a Caucasian man into the house. The man was of average height, wearing a hat and a white suit, and he bowed slightly upon seeing Alejandro.

But Alejandro didn't recognize this person at all, which made him tense up.

"Don't be nervous, sir. I come with good intentions," said the man with a smile, perhaps noticing Alejandro's tension.

"Could I have a cup of coffee? No sugar, just add some milk, thank you," the Caucasian man requested gently looking at the maid, who glanced at her employer. After Alejandro hesitated but nodded, she quickly proceeded to the adjoining kitchen.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"Who are you?"

"My name is West. I serve the United States CIA," the man said. "Mr. Alejandro, would you like to help overthrow Victor's cruel rule?"

...

Whoosh!

The skies above Tijuana suddenly unleashed a torrential downpour.

Outside the villa area.

A van, with its windshield wipers flapping noisily, was parked inconspicuously in the dark without its lights on.

Inside the van were numerous... surveillance devices!

The occupants were unmistakably from Mexico's news department.

"Boss! There's a situation," said a listener with headphones, suddenly speaking up. Next to him sat a senior intelligence officer with long hair resembling a rock star, George Smiley, who was languidly taking a drag on a cigarette. Awakened from his sloth-like state by these words, he looked up despondently.

Who the hell likes working overtime late at night?

That damned Jason Bourne, CNMD.

Indeed, it is standard practice for staff to curse their leaders.

Whenever you curse your boss at work and your colleagues remain awkwardly silent, you should start to wonder if they're related.

"Play it externally," George Smiley said after taking a puff.

The listener quickly pressed a button.

The audio that played was, "I serve the United States CIA, Mr. Alejandro, would you like to help overthrow Victor's cruel rule?"

"Cough cough cough!!"

The smoke George Smiley had just inhaled seemed to come right out of his ears as he began to cough violently, his face finally showing signs of panic.

Damn! Could that even be said?

The Mexican news department had long been watching for foreign spies; they weren't just sitting around. Victor had poured money into the area, ensuring that even if you took a dump in Tijuana, they would know what you ate the day before.

The reason they hadn't acted on capturing these spies was that they wanted to catch bigger fish by using longer lines.

But who would have thought that a Brit would come directly to Alejandro?!

And try to turn him?!

George Smiley's eyes were glued to the monitor nervously, even the heavy breathing could be heard; these houses had been bugged during distribution.

Mexico's news department, operating under royal charter, held immense power.

They were beyond anyone's control and, in other places, could even request the cooperation of the Anti-Drug Force, but they could only mobilize 50 people at most. Any more required higher authority.

Except for Victor, all the top ranks of the Anti-Drug Force were under surveillance.

Including Casare.

About a dozen seconds later, Alejandro's voice came through, "Get out! OUT! You are not welcome here, Mr. West!"

George Smiley's heart sank. As an agent, he knew that Alejandro must be feeling turbulent inside.

Loyalty that isn't absolute is absolutely disloyalty!

This sentence suddenly rang in his head.

Could it be that Alejandro really had this thought?

No way...

He was the number three man in the Anti-Drug Force!

George Smiley's eyes twitched as he continued to listen carefully.

"You should know what Victor is doing. He's upset many balances, but most importantly, he lacks respect and fear of the CIA. That's very irrational behavior. We'd be glad to support a pro-American person. We can help you overthrow him, or even Cuauhtémoc. Mexico should bear your name."

"Your children could go to the best schools in America, your wife could fulfill her dreams in the United States, and you would become a friend of the CIA, a brother of America. We could even award you a medal for your efforts in advancing US-Mexico relations."

"And Victor? He can only lead Mexico astray. By pulling him down and taking his place, you'll do better than he did. We from the CIA are also willing to help you with nationwide drug enforcement. I swear it on God's name."

The CIA mongrel spoke with a tempting tone.

These people dared to speak in the name of God?

Shameless!

But in the Latin American region, they had the capability. They could go after whoever they pleased!

George Smiley rubbed his sweaty palms, so tense he could hardly breathe. He knew he might witness the first internal strife within the Anti-Drug Force.

When an organization grew to such a point, there would always be those who became arrogant.

Without Victor, would he be the Governor of Baja California now?

No!

He'd still be that broken Director cowering in the National Prison Administration Bureau, where even ordinary criminals could slap him. Who gave him his current dignity and status?

"What do you need me to do?" Alejandro asked softly, his voice barely audible, as if he was struggling with his conscience, but couldn't help himself.

In the van, everyone's breath caught.

George Smiley raised his head, closed his eyes, and sighed. When he reopened them, "Report this matter immediately, let Mr. Victor know as soon as possible."

"Boss, this...this..." someone beside him stammered.

"What? Do you also want to betray him?" George squinted, "If you want to die, just tell me, and I'll help you find a place to rest.

His subordinate's scalp went numb, and he immediately fell silent.

Someone hurriedly made a call to headquarters.

Meanwhile, conversational tones continued to come from the listening device.

"You've made the right choice, sir. In Latin America, if we from the CIA want to back you into a position of power, you'll have no worries. You should think about what position you want to take!"

"But it's not the right time to overthrow him yet. We need to prepare. Right now, we just want to know where his weapons come from, how many soldiers he has, and whether someone is supporting him from behind."

"I don't know," Alejandro said frankly.

This frankness confused the other party, who frowned and pressed, "You don't know? But you're the number three person."

"Victor never lets me handle military affairs and doesn't allow me to inspect any forces without consent. My responsibilities are only civil affairs, but... he has given me full authority!"

The more Alejandro spoke, the more agitated he became, "I'm only 40 years old. I still want to strive for achievements. He just treats me like a mascot, placing me there. I go to work, then leave, idling my life away!"

Listening in, George Smiley's mouth fell open.

Not doing anything yet living in a mansion, drawing a salary on time every month – isn't that good enough?

But people are all different.

Some thirst for time off, while others seek to showcase their abilities.

Aspirations differ.

Choices differ, too.

And in the Mexico News Department, the on-duty colleague quickly noted down this matter and found the boss, Jason Bourne. When he read the notes, it was as if his butt was on fire, and he hurried toward Victor's office.

The staff along the way looked at him in surprise. When had Jason ever been so frantic?

He knocked on Victor's office door. Inside, Victor was in a private chat with Forest Gan. Jason Bourne whispered a few words in his ear.

Victor's face momentarily stiffened, but he quickly mustered a smile, although Forest Gan could still see the strain in his smile.

"Please wait a moment."

Eventually, Victor couldn't hold back any longer. After speaking to Forest Gan, he stood up and left the office, his expression becoming one that could swallow someone whole!

"Catch that CIA agent! Take him to the water dungeon, I want him to suffer!"

"What about Mr. Alejandro?"

Victor quieted down, standing still.

"So this is what it means to be a lone wolf!" he exclaimed suddenly.

No matter how good your friends are, in the end, when faced with power, money, or women – or let's say diverging values – they'll fall apart.

Thomas Sankara, Compaore, and Ringani were all good friends, even sharing the same bed. And what happened? The hero of a dignified nation was betrayed by his two best brothers!

He died at only 38 years old!

And in Chile, Allende and Pinochet started off on good terms too.

This world is screwed up!

The higher you climb, the fewer friends you have, and everywhere you look, there's nothing but interests and deceit!

Victor just didn't expect it to come around to him so fast.

CIA!

CNMD!

"Prepare the car; I want to ask him in person."

"I want to ask why he would betray me!

"Could it be... I can't protect Mexico?"

...