Chapter 3: The horrors of the third block

- He's very cocky right now! Sir, I even feel like he's more cocky than any drug dealer I've ever met! You didn't see what happened, he fired a shot! He fired a shot in the Altiplano prison!

In the warden's office.

Haggis Baird's face was red with anger, he waved his arms, clearly agitated, and leaned on his desk, staring intently at Webster.

- I even suspect he's possessed by the devil; it's not like him at all!

Webster took a drag on his cigarette.

- The devil? Then you should go to the Vatican to see a priest. But are you sure we don't have any little boys here? Are they coming?

Haggis Baird twitched the corner of his mouth.

- 'Sir, this isn't funny at all,' he was silent for a moment, breathing heavily, 'you promised to help kill him!

- My family paid you twenty thousand dollars!

Webster looked up lazily.

- He had applied for a transfer to the third unit.

This news confused Baird, two question marks flashed in his mind.

Not even dogs go to cell block three. Although those thugs there are physically restrained, their temper is terrible, you never know what word or action will anger them.

The drug dealers are completely inhumane!

In Mexico, if you offend the president, you will be convicted by law.

But if you offend a drug dealer, you'll know what "worse than death" means.

From the mayor to the simple peasant, if you piss them off, tomorrow your head will end up in Mexico City, your hand in San Diego, and your ass in Tijuana. Don't doubt it, they have the power to do that.

- He's-- he's-- - Baird didn't know what to say.

- Let him know he's going to work in Unit Three tomorrow," Webster pulled a transfer order from his desk drawer and tossed it in front of Baird. - In honor of his late father, I agreed to his request.

- How long he lives there depends on God's will.

Baird stared at the order in his hands, feeling that it wasn't enough.

Mexico doesn't need such petty tricks, after all, they're from the Gulf Cartel, the oldest criminal organization in the world. Is it hard to kill a simple security guard? Find the men and kill him, isn't that easy?

- I know what you're thinking. If you can, you can hire someone to kill him outside, but inside the prison, we have to follow the rules. You can't let a drug dealer with a gun into the guards' dorm to shoot him, can you? That would be a challenge. The last time there was a conflict between Tijuana and Juarez, a lot of people died and it took a lot of money to settle. Management is already unhappy with me, so I have to keep my head down lately.

Webster was an old trickster.

That soccer game was a deliberate massacre between two organizations.

At the time, a junior ringleader nicknamed "Clown" Garrido had died in Tijuana; he was the illegitimate son of the head of the Tijuana cartel, Benjamin, and he was well-liked. His death caused a war between two major cartels!

The third largest cartel, the Sinaloa Cartel, was also drawn into the conflict.

The Gulf Cartel capitalized on it quite a bit.

For this soccer match, the Gulf Cartel paid the police chief $5 million dollars.

All for profit.

If the profit is great enough, even God can be sold.

Jesus was already clearly priced out.

Baird was unhappy with Webster's order, but what could he do? In any community, Webster had a higher rank. Haggis reluctantly saluted and left the office.

Standing in the doorway, he began muttering something to himself. The transfer order clutched under his arm. He headed for office number two of block two, where Casares sat brewing coffee.

- Where's Victor?

- In the restroom," Casares pointed to the restroom. At that moment, Victor stepped out, shaking water droplets off his hands.

- 'Victor, Sergeant Baird wants to see you,' the fat man Casares called out and winked at him.

- 'Your transfer order has come through. The warden has approved your transfer to cell block three as deputy warden. Congratulations, buddy," Baird handed him the order with a strained smile. - I hope you stay in your new position for a long time.

- О? - Victor accepted the order, saw the seal and breathed a sigh of relief.

The first phase of the plan was complete. He seemed not to notice the hidden threat in Baird's voice and thanked him with a smile.

Baird, angry, left the office, remembering to slam the door loudly.

Even the dust kicked up.

As soon as Baird left, Casares, clearly agitated, approached Victor.

- Victor, are you going to the third block? It's... it's a very dangerous place. Nine guards have died there in the first six months alone. Although they were killed outside the prison, they were clearly drug dealers.

- I heard one poor guy was killed along with his wife and daughter for not washing a narco baron's feet. Three days later they were found dead in the woods with not one whole piece of flesh on their bodies.

- And Quim Luca? You know him, he was a classmate of mine. When he was working in Block 3, he was approached by a drug dealer with homosexual tendencies, but he refused. Eventually. his genitals were cut off and hung in the street!

Casares trembled with fear, his pupils dilated.

Obviously, the drug dealers had left an indelible mark on his soul.

Spit!

Victor put his hand on Casares' shoulder.

- What are you afraid of?

Casares raised his head, meeting Victor's gaze.

- You're afraid of death, but why can't we make them die? Words mean nothing in this fucking society. The only thing that can speak for you is a gun. If a drug dealer has a gun and you have an AK-47, who do you think should be afraid?

- My father always told me to be fair, that young people need courage, that morality is the foundation of human life. And? He was killed. I realized that at any moment you have to strive upwards. No one listens to the words of weaklings.

- Why did you become a cop?

- For... - Casares hesitated.

- Don't tell me it was for some kind of justice. Don't be so naive. Absolute justice never leads to a good ending. You have to be tough. In the cafeteria, if I hadn't shot, would I be standing here? Are these bastards afraid of the law? They're afraid of bullets!

Victor patted Casares' face.

- If someone hurts you, fight back. If you can't fight back, find someone to frame. Drug dealers are human beings, they fear death too. I don't believe their mouths can hold bullets.

But the fear built up over decades of drug dealer power is not easily removed.

- Don't worry. I'll live longer than God in Mexico.

- After work, you want to go for a drink? My treat," Victor smiled.

...

The prison workday is from nine in the morning to five in the evening.

You don't even have to overwork.

Since the Altiplano prison is about 50 kilometers from the city, many police officers live in a dormitory. There is a night market not far from the prison where many needs can be met.

Victor is not interested in street prostitutes - he is afraid of catching HIV. If he wants to have fun, it's only with Hollywood stars.

The main thing is to have money, and each of them will spread their legs for you.

Casares, on the other hand, was less choosy. He looked the prostitute over from head to toe.

- There are two of us," he said.

The girl looked at Victor.

- You'll have to pay extra for two.

- How much?

- Ten pesos for one, half the price for the other.

Casares' eyes lit up. He lightly nudged Victor with his elbow and whispered softly:

- Victor...

- No, I'm not interested. You can do it yourself if you want, but I suggest you use protection.

Casares hesitated. This girl was perfect for his taste, but he didn't want to leave his friend. Just when he was about to refuse, Victor said:

- You have fun while I take care of business. I'll meet you later at the bar.

He took out 20 pesos and handed them to the girl.

- Take good care of my friend.

After patting Casares on the shoulder, Victor walked on.

Casares stared after him, puzzled. Suddenly he recognized a familiar figure. It was Haggis Baird.

- Sir!" The girl pulled him by the arm and led him into the tent.

Victor did recognize the familiar figure. Haggis Baird was walking with an unpleasant-looking man to a remote place where an old van was parked. Victor decided to find out who the man was.

His right eye blinked.

All the information appeared in front of him.

[Haggis Mil Man! Born in 1970 to a family of criminals in Chihuahua City.

Nickname: "The Family Dog."

At 18, with accomplices robbed and killed a French tourist, dismembered his body.

At 19, joined the family drug business, transporting drugs across the U.S.-Mexico border using human bodies.

The same year he shot and killed three police officers in Chihuahua and was listed as number 67 on a wanted list.

A reward of 6,000 pesos was set for his capture. At the age of 20, brutally murdered a member of an anti-drug committee in Chihuahua and dumped his body.

Recent events: he was assigned by his family to kill Michael Garris, an old LOC representative in Chihuahua who was imprisoned in Altiplano block two.

Crime Points: 900]

So someone "related" came in. No wonder Haggis Baird didn't go to his usual friends.

Was he alone now? Victor felt a sense of joy.

He fumbled with his belt - there were no weapons.

In prison, it is forbidden to carry guns outside of work.

It's public policy in Mexico: strict restrictions for government employees and freedom for everyone else.

But...

Victor had 1,000 points earned for killing Hoyle in prison.

That was enough to buy a gun.

He didn't like leaving danger behind. If Baird's alone, he needs to be taken out!

Kill him and that's it, no one would know who did it.

Looking around, Victor walked to the van as if nothing had happened and listened.

- What? Kill Michael Harris?

- It's an assignment from the family," Haggis Meal spoke in a hoarse voice, as if his vocal cords were damaged.

Baird thought for a moment.

- 'No problem, but I want you to kill one man. He's interfering with my progress in Altiplano.

- Who?

- Victor Carlos Vieri.

- No problem. He'll be dead soon.

Victor, standing by the van, felt a murderous rage rising in him.

You want to kill me? Then I'll kill you first!

Blinking, he called up the exchange window.

Balance: 1000.

He spent 40 points to exchange for two Soviet-made F-1 grenades.

- I'll blow you up, you son of a bitch ...