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I work as a police officer in Mexico

One of the most effective ways to end a life: It's to be a police officer in Mexico. Here, absolute justice means getting shot in the forehead. The protagonist is transported into the body of a prison warden and discovers that his eyes can see the criminal value of a human being! Only by being more powerful than criminals can justice be maintained! This prison is called: "Plateau Prison"! The highest level of security in Mexico. At this time, there was a locked man inside. His name is Miguel Angel Felix Gallardo, nicknamed The Godfather, and he is one of the founders of the Guadalajara Cartel. If you want to survive, either leave this damn country or climb up as hard as you can. There will be justice in Mexico!

DaoistTGo7iF · Adolescents et jeunes adultes
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20 Chs

Chapter 9: No deception

Victor took out a bottle of wine.

He found two glasses from somewhere, washed them in the bathroom - they had been standing for so long that even cobwebs had appeared.

He poured the wine, handed the glass to Casares, and, smiling, began to describe the prospects: "Don't worry, I know this business like the back of my hand. Where there's violence, there's customers. Mexican drug dealers aren't going to fight with sticks and stones, right?

He laughed as soon as he finished speaking, "Either we don't make money or we make a lot of money. Imagine if we buy a huge mansion next to the president's residence, who would dare to underestimate us then? The main thing is not to spend money on nonsense, so that you don't have to be treated for AIDS later.

Victor raised his glass and drank it down.

The taste of cheap wine...

HIV was discovered in 1981. Americans always want to be first in everything, even in such perversions.

Casares blushed with embarrassment, took a sip of wine and, as if remembering something, asked: - They say you had a fight with a narco baron's today. Won't he retaliate?

- Revenge?

Victor sat back in his chair, put his foot on his leg, took out a cigarette and brought it to his nose before lighting it.

- He's in jail like a dead dog. I'm a cop, am I afraid of him? Even if they try to do something, which one of them will dare to do it if I have an AK-47 in my hands?

- Even if they come... I'll have more firepower.

- But there's only two of us. Maybe it's not worth the risk... - Casares expressed his doubts.

- What's so scary about this?

Victor, holding the cigarette between his fingers, continued: - What business is without problems? Narco baron's?

Victor spat: - We're police officers, isn't fighting drug dealers part of our duties?

Victor glared at him.

- Those who do gray business either become millionaires or end up in jail. It's the same with us. You think we have a way back? You sell guns to your cousin, and soon all the gangs in Mexico City will know the chubby guy is a gun dealer. Eventually, you'll be eaten to death.

- Casares, I have low standards in this life: I want to sleep with women I haven't met yet, I want everyone to stand up when I walk into a room, I want everyone to shut up when I'm not happy. I don't want to marry some random woman, have children and be poor all my life, and then one day get sick and my children go into bondage to pay for my medication. I don't want to lie in a hospital bed and be told that being a regular person is a blessing. To hell with it! I want to get rich. If Jesus gets in my way, I'm going to make sure Easter is on Fridays!

He poured himself wine again and raised his glass.

- If you're going to gamble, you're going to gamble big, aren't you? You can't make money by taking risks. The more risk, the more money!

Casares, who had been a policeman for four or five years and was used to receiving small bribes from drug dealers, had long felt that it wasn't enough.

Looking into Victor's eyes, he clenched his teeth, grabbed his glass and finished the wine.

- Victor, tell me what to do and I'll do it.

Casares was smart, -But we're cops, there are some things we shouldn't do ourselves. We need to find someone to help.

Victor nodded, agreeing with what he said. Suddenly a name came to his mind.

- Do you remember Nuriel Best?

Casares shuddered when he heard the name: "His family was killed by drug dealers, right?

- He's alive, living in Chimalhuacan. I have his contact.

This was a man Victor knew personally. Nuriel, like Casares, was a cop, and they had once worked together.

However, Nuriel was a tough guy. He had slept with a female narco baron's woman, and it had caused his family to pay the price. Two of his brothers were cemented in barrels.

Now he couldn't be a cop for fear of retaliation. Lives covertly, but Victor had his contact as they crossed paths in Chimalhuacan.

- You want to involve him?

Victor nodded.

- 'We could use him. He's a 'dead man' and many things are easier for him to do. Getting involved with guns - not wearing a police uniform.

- But what's he doing now?

Casares frowned.

- 'I heard he's become a middleman, selling information, helping to build bridges. But you know, he's lazy, and lives modestly, except for courage, there's nothing else.

Courage is good. The main thing is to have enough of it, because only the brave succeed!

- Tomorrow you will take the day off, in the morning take your gun and start a business with your brother. Tell him that if there's money to be made, there's goods to be made. We don't take drugs, only dollars. Meet me at the market.

Casares thought it over and nodded.

- And remember, if your brother asks where the weapons come from, tell him I have an uncle in the Soviet army who can get you anything, even RPGs, it just takes time.

Casares looked at Victor in surprise. He didn't know about relatives in the USSR, but he didn't ask unnecessary questions.

- And Don't mention my name.

Unlike Mexican narco baron's, Victor preferred to stay in the shadows. Unless there was an important case, he didn't want to shine. Casares was his glove.

Drug dealing isn't the same.

If a leader gives too much freedom, a subordinate can take over the market, knowing the whole process.

But with weapons, it's different. If you don't have the supply, you can't do anything. Victor controls the supply, and Casares can't go anywhere.

Victor wanted more. He was planning way ahead. Casares didn't care, he cared about the money.

They hung out until 10:00 p.m., and Casares took a bag of AK-47 parts and left.

- Jesus bless you.

Victor lit a cigarette, crossed his legs, took a drag and let out a ring of smoke: - Amen.

...

Mexico is a great place for tourism.

You'll be in high spirits first thing in the morning.

When you see the army burning the plantations, you'll realize it's a metaphor, but of course no one would burn those fields or the whole country would turn into drug addicts.

Casares took the leave slip, put on his dark gray bag and baseball cap, and walked out of the prison. Just like Victor said, prison is a place where it's easy to get out, no one even checks in.

In 2000, when Guzman was arrested, you know how he escaped? Paid over two million dollars to be taken out in a garbage truck.

When Casares got out of jail, he saw a lot of people standing around, clearly hostile. Some were checking him against photographs, clearly intent on revenge.

Casares felt his eyelids flutter.

These men, with the inscription "narco baron's" on their foreheads, could start shooting at any moment. There was nowhere to hide in this environment.

He took a deep breath, calmly walked around them and saw a red car at the bus stop. Checking the license plate, he opened the door and got in.

There were already four people sitting in the car. One was the driver, in the front seat was a man with disheveled hair and unshaven. In the back were two thugs who looked quite menacing.

- Casares, cousin, long time no see.

The man in the front seat took off his glasses and smiled.

Casares, holding his bag, could smell the masculine odor in the car - sweat and dirty socks. Looking at his cousin, he pointed to his gold tooth: -Dragan, did you get a gold tooth put in?

- How's that? 3,000 pesos. - The man proudly replied.

Damn it! That's expensive, for that kind of money in Mexico you can buy several human lives.

Casares mentally scolded him for his wastefulness, but smiled anyway and praised him for his good taste. He knew his cousin liked to brag. If he didn't, he might take offense.

- You talked about something good on the phone. I was going to collect tribute from the little ones, but instead I came here. Don't tell me you're just teasing me.

Dragan raised his head slightly.

Casares opened his bag and pulled out the parts of an AK-47. In front of Dragan and the others, he assembled the machine gun - Victor had been teaching him the moves all night.

- It's a nice piece, isn't it? - He patted the stock, smiling, and held out the gun.

- Shit! An AK-47!

Dragan couldn't help but swear, took the rifle and pulled the bolt: -Where did you get it?

- We have connections in the Soviet Union, it's easy to get weapons. Who do you think I remember first? You! Will you take it?

Dragan looked at Casares: "Looks like you've joined a good organization.

- You want to join? Mexican government? The police are recruiting right now. Is there a bigger organization than this? - Casares said.

Dragan fell silent.

Is he supposed to quit his gang and become a cop?

That's crazy!

- This machine I'll give you for a small price. Just Give me the money for shipping and commission. I hope you'll be buying from me. 800 dollars - how's that sound? We're related, so I won't cheat you.