Chapter 150: Dog-Headed Military Strategist Guzman!

Chapter 150 Dog-headed Strategist—Guzman!

"Let me go! Let me go! I can give you a lot of money. I can give you whatever you want."

Carlos sat on the ground waving his hands and shouting loudly.

Harris looked at him condescendingly and suddenly tugged on his clothes angrily.

"What we want is never money, what we want is to eradicate drug dealers. Do you remember what happened in the GAFE special forces in 1987?"

Carlos looked at him.

Harris stared at him, seeing the confused look on his face, and became furious, "You asked my captain to transport drugs to the US-Mexico border for you, but we refused, what did you do to us?"

"You betrayed all the information about our family to drug dealers. My wife, my children, my parents, and my brother were all beaten to death by drug dealers!"

"You betrayed us! When you were collaborating with drug dealers, did you ever think of letting us go?"

Harris pushed him away and said in a cold tone, "Traitors should be eliminated!!"

The two police officers behind him came up and put a plastic bag around his neck, and then pulled hard, but Carlos still wanted to struggle.

This hand was instantly pierced by the dagger!

Protective umbrella for drug dealers!

That's how it should be treated.

Bullets are the most polite form of death.

Carlos's struggle gradually weakened, and in the end, he fell limply to the ground.

"Head, there are troops coming!" The anxious voice of the peripheral security personnel sounded in the communication tool.

Harris took a deep look at Carlos on the ground, took out his gun and fired three more shots at the body, two shots in the head, "Retreat!"

The rain was getting heavier and heavier, and it made a thumping sound on the ground, which was very disturbing.

After they ran for about ten minutes, Valdez received the news and hurriedly arrived with the operations department of the intelligence agency.

Seeing the corpses on the ground, his legs felt a little weak.

"Quick! Find Mr. Carlos!" Valdez's voice was broken, and the blood on his face disappeared.

The agents he brought were busy looking for him.

"Head! Head! Here."

Valdez jumped up and rushed over to the agent who was shouting. He saw the agent squatting and lying on the ground alone.

"It's Mr. Carlos."

When Valdez saw Carlos with a plastic bag on his head, he howled, "Send him to the hospital quickly!"

June 14, 1990, 3 o'clock in the morning!

Mexico City was suddenly under martial law.

And half an hour later, a piece of news suddenly spread throughout Mexico through the media.

Carlos Salinas!

Death!

The news swept the country instantly, and many people held meetings all night long without even sleeping. As for why the TV said there was no death, who cares?

It doesn’t matter what the fuck, everyone is dead.

"Hurry up! Go to San Luis Potosi to find Cuauquemot to take charge of the situation!"

…

Cuaukmote was yawning when he was woken up in the motel. When his secretary said that Carlos was dead, his jaw almost dislocated.

"What did you say? Carlos is dead?"

The secretary looked excited, "Yes! He's dead."

"How did you die?" Quaukmot frowned.

"Our people stationed at the official residence said that a group of unidentified armed men rushed into the official residence last night and...beat him to death."

This is too...nonsensical, right?

The presidential guard's protection capabilities are probably too poor.

But then I thought about it, drug dealers can place a few people in the guard, and it is natural for them to be beaten up if they are weak in combat ability.

Unknown armed men?

Drug dealer?

Victor?

Victor!

Quaukmot's instinct told him that it was definitely him. Just when he was about to call to inquire, he heard a lot of noise outside.

"what happened?"

"Sir, there are a lot of people downstairs." The bodyguard at the door called.

Kwaukmot opened the window and saw that at some point, hundreds of people were standing densely packed, and more and more people were approaching, holding banners in their hands.

It was too dark to see clearly.

But their voices were cheering, very chaotic, but slowly becoming united, "Mr. Cuauquemot, please go to Mexico City!"

"Mr. Cuauquemot, please go to Mexico City!"

…

It's like someone is rendering it underneath.

But so many people were calling his name, which made Kwaukmot a little excited, and his heart was filled with passion.

"Sir, Mr. Honatan Aragon's phone number." The secretary handed over the phone and said softly.

Before Kwaukmot picked up the phone, he heard Honatan on the opposite side speak first, "Congratulations, man!"

"God is clearly not on Carlos' side."

"You've got your Mexico!"

Cuauquemot raised his eyebrows and said, "Thank you, but this is not my Mexico, but that of all the people. And since Mr. Carlos passed away, my successor is not me. We have to respect the constitution and let the election speak for itself."

Honatan Aragon on the opposite side was quiet for a moment, and after a few seconds he responded with a smile, "Yes, Mexico belongs to all Mexicans, and we respect the Constitution."

"Me and some of my friends would like to meet you."

"They will be happy to provide you with any necessary assistance."

Of course, he knew who the friend he was talking about was, but he was just a representative of some consortium or some foreign group. Although he hated these people, he knew that Mexico could not leave them now.

They didn't care who became president, as long as their interests were guaranteed. If they didn't know the current situation, the results would be taken away by others.

Sometimes, compromise is also an art.

"It's my honor. Let's meet when I get to Mexico."

Jonathan Aragon breathed a sigh of relief. As long as he cooperated, his tone was much more relaxed. "Then I wish you in advance. The National Palace of Mexico welcomes you to stay!"

After hanging up the phone, the originally surging mood of Cuauhtmote suddenly weakened.

"A new struggle has begun!"

...

Sinaloa. Culiacan!

In Guzman's mansion.

Aguilar of Juarez and Abrego of the Gulf Group, the three giants sat quietly, smoking cigarettes non-stop.

"What about the Michoacan family?" Aguilar raised his head and spoke.

"They are fighting a new group called the Jalisco New Generation, and they don't have time to attend this meeting." Guzman said lightly, looking at Abrego next to him, "It is said that their leader is called El Mencho!"

Abrego looked gloomy. Although the "shorty" did not say anything insulting, his dignity seemed to be challenged, "I will personally deal with this traitor!"

Guzman glanced at him, "How long do you think we can fight each other?"

"? What do you mean?"

"Carlos is dead. If there is no accident, the next one to take office will be Cuauhcmote. He will absolutely have zero tolerance for the drug trafficking industry, which may be a huge challenge for our business."

"If he gives Victor more support, our living space will be gradually compressed. By then, not only will we not make money, but people will die!"

"Mexico cannot live without drugs." The person in charge of the Gulf Group said in a heavy voice.

"But this is a challenge, isn't it? Lower California... is gone!"

Aguilar and Abrego suddenly became quiet when they heard this.

"What do you mean?"

"Since we can't beat them, surrender." Guzman said.

"??? Are you kidding me?" Abrego, who had a slightly bad temper, stood up immediately, "Surrender, there is no surrender in my dictionary!"

"You can add it to your dictionary."

Guzman looked at him, "Listen to me calmly."

Abrego glanced at Aguilar, "Do you want to surrender in Juarez?"

"Listen to him, and continue."

After all, he was a commander of the security department, and Aguilar crossed his legs and said calmly.

"We have requirements for surrendering. We are allowed to sell drugs and keep our own army, but we can extract profits from it and hand them over to the treasury to improve people's livelihood. We can also maintain local public security and promise them that there will be no armed conflict."

"And we accept the arrangements of the local city hall."

"Just like Pablo."

Pablo Escobar of Colombia had requirements when he surrendered. He was not allowed to destroy his own business, live in the prison he built, and was not allowed to hinder his normal freedom.

The Colombian government at that time fully agreed to make this guy quiet down.

Isn't it just a matter of changing places and being the boss?

"Will Cuaucmote and Victor agree?" Abrego expressed doubt, especially the latter, chasing them and beating them.

The shit came out of them.

"Can we offer a price that the government can't refuse, Victor? He's just a director!"

"An ordinary director with some weapons and some soldiers!"

"After surrendering, we can also use the government's name to recruit armed personnel. If Victor attacks us again, this will be a civil war!"

"He will become the target of everyone's crusade!"

It has to be said that Guzman is a rare brain among the drug cartel leaders. All those who oppose him are played to death, very shady.

He will think of shady tricks when he can't beat them.

"Many high-level officials in Mexico have never thought about real drug control. They may... just want us to be quiet and disturb them. As long as we learn to shut up first, they will learn to compromise!"

Aguilar and Abrego looked at each other.

Dog-headed military advisor, what a wonderful thing to say!

"I will arrange for someone to contact someone who can speak first."

"Who?"

"For example: the Mexican tycoons!"

...