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Chapter 6: The gift of a meeting!

- What do you want to hear in response? Or more accurately, what kind of answer do you want?

Victor didn't deny or admit it, just looked straight at Casares.

Without further question, it was obvious: he had set the explosion last night, and it was aimed at Haggis Baird.

Casares said with his mouth ajar: - But you're a cop.

Victor, on the other hand, seemed relaxed; he squeezed the sticky substance in his hand and brought it up to his nose, sniffing it. - Of course, I've always been a cop, and I've often been proud of it.

With his hands on the table, he stood up, his face grim.

- But Baird wanted me dead, so I showed him that if he insulted Jesus he wouldn't go to heaven, and if he dared touch me he'd go to him that very day. To hell with everything, in Mexico, if anyone wants to play deadly games with me, I'll kill him first.

Casares was stunned by Victor's almost insane speech.

- Are you really...

- Crazy?

Victor finished for him, leaning back and smiling cheerfully, pointing his fingers around.

- Who do you think is a real cop around here? Most of us are embedded drug cartel agents. They came here for the money. State flags are just there to wipe themselves with. You and I have no connections, no education. What choice do we have but to take our chances?

- Nowadays, even to sell sperm, you need an education! What kind of education do you have?

- I know you have three siblings, all studying, and your mother is a part-time seamstress. When you send your paycheck home, how many times a month can you afford a woman? They're all cheap, shameful. Your ex-wife left you for a rich man. If you had money, would she have left? You could have any woman you want. You could have a baby with a congresswoman tonight, throw in some money, she'd take the spiral off tomorrow. Money can do anything.

- You want to work with me?

Victor did a background check on Casares. In essence, he was a lily white, an obedient boy who did whatever his mother said: studying, dropping out, taking exams, working for the police.

Everything seemed smooth, but in reality his efforts could easily have been overridden by a bribe.

- I guarantee you, at least a thousand pesos a month.

Casares' breathing quickened, but he didn't say a word.

Victor took his time too, stood up, patted him on the shoulder.

- If you want, you can come to my room tonight after work. You understand what happened with Baird, don't you?

Without waiting for an answer, Victor left.

Casares remained seated, his brain working feverishly. He'd always thought Victor was as honest as he was, but now he realized it was a mask.

- Hey, Casares, you done? Got to clean up.

The guard on duty in the mess hall saw him and shouted, expressing his displeasure.

Casares stood up quickly, apologizing, and waved his hand. He watched the man dump the unfinished mashed potatoes into a bucket and swallowed.

A thought suddenly flashed through his mind:

If I had money, no one would push me around while I eat.

...

Unit three.

In the Altiplano prison, this place was like a fortress, isolated and protected by high-voltage wires, with a separate mess hall, rest rooms, and work areas. On the outside, everything looked austere.

But in reality it was no better than a pile of crap.

When Guzmán was arrested in February 2014, his son paid guards to give his father a GPS watch. Within a year, he had spent $56 million to build a tunnel 1.5 kilometers long, more than 10 meters deep, 1.7 meters high and 75 centimeters wide, with lighting and ventilation.

On July 12, 2015, Guzmán escaped from prison again, despite the cameras.

Mexican prisons are a joke.

Whoever hasn't escaped from prison several times can't be called a real narco baron's.

Outwardly, cell block three still looked harsh. After going through four checks, including name identification, photo identification, and a check for illegal items, Victor was led to the head of Sector Three, Staff Sergeant Cona Velasquez, a short, stout man.

- Welcome, Sergeant Victor.

The man extended his hand in a friendly manner.

Victor blinked his right eye, feeling the need to feel out his new superior.

[Conor Velasquez. Born 1952 in Monterrey, Nuevo Leon].

...

Warden of Block 3, High Plateau Prison, since age 31.

Crime score: 1,500 points.

That's almost equal to five Brads or one and a half Haggis Meals.

It's not that he was tougher, it's that his influence was stronger, thanks to his father-in-law, the head of Sinaloa State.

If you cooperate with the Sinaloa cartel, you can become the local kingpin.

- Heard you were wounded? How are you doing now? You all right? - Velasquez sounded like an old friend.

- Much better, thank you for your concern, sir.

Velasquez nodded, flipping through Victor's personnel file, continuing the conversation.

- 'Those bastards have got a lot of nerve. I hear Hoyle is one of the small-time bosses of the Gulf Cartel. Be careful. If you need anything, come to me.

Victor knew right away.

Sinaloa and the Gulf are sworn enemies, always fighting over territory. Today you kill my mother, tomorrow I'll kill your mistress. As "Godfather" Gagliardo said when he was arrested:

"Without me, the beasts will run amok!"

Victor was no fool. He knew that to reject such friendliness would be foolish. Turning everyone against himself would be suicide.

- Thank you, sir. I'll be glad to cooperate.

He took a lighter from the table and lit a cigarette for Velasquez.

A little flattery for a better life.

Pride? It's worthless.

Guzman, before he became famous, stole cars.

None of the big bosses had it easy.

Some things you weren't born with will be hard to get, but there are always those who don't give up, but you have to let go of a lot of things.

For example: dignity.

Velasquez was clearly satisfied. With a cigarette in his hand, he said, "Unit three is without a deputy chief. He was killed in a firefight while on vacation.

- Now you'll take his place, in charge of patrols, prisoner roll call, and weapons accounting.

That's a lot more power than block two.

- Let them do what they want as long as they don't leave the prison. Even if they ask for condoms, honor their requests.

Victor wasn't naive. He displayed a subservient demeanor, showing he wasn't going to argue.

- Now someone will familiarize you with the office.

Velasquez pressed a button on the desk.

- Anna, come in.

There was a response at the door. I could tell by the voice that it was an attractive woman.

A couple minutes later there was a clatter of heels. Victor turned his head and saw a slender woman in a uniform, with such a cleavage that it looked like she was about to explode.

It looked impressive.

Men always look at the breasts first, not the soul, right?

- Anna, this is the new Deputy Chief of Unit 3, Victor Carlos Vieri.

- How do you do, sir?

Anna saluted, deliberately shaking her arms, causing her breasts to jiggle as well.

She knew how to use her advantages.

- I'm the head of psychological services for unit three. If you need help, feel free to contact me.

The third block provides such services? Why does that sound like prostitution?

Victor blinked.

The information about her was clear.

Studying her 'resume', Victor realized that she was indeed providing sexual services, working for the Nightcats, an organization controlled by Juarez. They offered their services to inmates for several hundred and sometimes thousands of dollars.

Juarez was making millions of dollars a year from this alone.

Holy shit!

This is just absurd.

No wonder many narco baron's even wanted to be in prison. They could feel safe here, controlling their organizations from the inside, sometimes even better than they could on the outside. Provided, of course, that their underlings didn't get too powerful, as in the case of the Los Setas Cartel.

- Escort Sergeant Victor to his new office. I need to go to a meeting," Conor Velasquez said.

Anna smiled and nodded.

They walked out of the office, Anna walking ahead, her hips moving seductively. Reaching the next door, she opened it: - Sergeant Victor, this is the former office of the deputy chief. If you don't like anything, tell me, I'll clean it up.

Victor looked around. It was clean inside, world classics were on the shelf.

He opened the desk drawer where the envelope lay and raised an eyebrow.

- 'They heard yesterday that there's a new chief in cell block three. This is a welcome present from the distinguished gentlemen....

By which he must have meant the narco baron's.

Victor opened the envelope, seeing the multicolored bills.

- A total of fifty thousand pesos.

Anna continued to watch her new boss's reaction.

He was clearly surprised, which gave her a sense of satisfaction.

-Anna... -Victor glanced at her epaulettes, -Sergeant, can you help me?

- Sure.

Anna smiled, ready to take off her uniform.

- Can you divide these fifty thousand pesos, indicating who gave and who didn't?

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