Chapter 159 Say It! Say Thank You!

Victor was still sitting in the conference room smoking.

Half a cigarette, can't be wasted.

Just as he put the cigarette butt into the ashtray and was about to get up, Jason Bourne ran in with a serious face.

"Boss!"

Victor hadn't seen him with this expression for a long time.

"What's wrong?"

"The informant from the Mexican International News Department said that Juarez, the Gulf Group, and Sinaloa are planning to merge!"

Victor hurriedly took the document from him, and heard Jason Bourne continue, "Moreover, I heard that they plan to unite the Colombian drug lords to form a new organization."

"They plan to keep each other warm."

"According to the information we received, it was indeed discovered that Aguilar left Mexico for a while, but we are still investigating where he went specifically."

Victor nodded. It would be strange if the Mexican drug cartel was not united. To put it bluntly, one-on-one, which organization can fight Victor now!

Just beat the shit out of your ass and stuff it into your mouth.

If you can't beat them, just call for help. Hasn't it been like this since ancient times?

However, the merger of the Big Three and the alliance with the Colombians really made Victor feel that Guzman and others were worthy of being drug lords.

How could someone who could step by step from a small mountain village in Sinaloa to a world-famous drug lord be a fool?

"Where's Ethan Hunt?"

Jason Bourne looked strange, "He took a year off to travel."

"What kind of travel? Come back and work overtime!"

"Let him take people to Colombia to set up the Mexican International News Department branch. I want to know what kind of underwear Pablo is wearing today. Bring more people and don't let him starve."

Victor now has enough manpower. When he came back, he directly changed the Mexican International News Department from a "shabby little department" of 40 people to a "big group" of 400 people, and continued to invest 30 million US dollars, equipped with a series of military equipment.

The reference template is: the US Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), which is more professional.

At that time, we will develop "peripheral personnel". Maybe we really need to show the CIA that overseas intelligence agencies are shocked!

The rest were given to the "logistics department" and 1,000 people, including ground crew, ordnance, tanks, vehicles, aircraft, and ship (ship) maintenance personnel.

A 15-person pilot team was also secretly formed.

So many people spent nearly 600 million points, mainly technical personnel, intelligence, maintenance, and flying, which one is cheaper?

Especially flying, the cost of training a basically qualified fighter pilot in the US military ranges from US$5.6 million for F-16 to US$10.9 million for F-22; the training cost of bomber pilots is also high, ranging from US$7.3 million for B-1 to US$9.7 million for B-52, and the training cost of command, control, intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance pilots (such as RC-135) is about US$5.5 million per pilot.

Even if the panda falls, pilots are precious wealth and rarely circulate in the market. Moreover, even if they don't fly military aviation, they can fly civil aviation. Who will work in the Mexican police department?

Or the plate is not big enough!

Victor still has some vacancies, so he won't rush to grab them for now.

It's too expensive!

"Report this to the DEA!" Victor thought about it and decided to drag the giant into the water. His intuition told him that this battle might not be easy!

Although there are several countries between Mexico and Colombia, what if the military leaders in these countries are taken away by drug dealers?

"Let the finance department discuss it again, improve the welfare benefits of the police, and recruit all 15,000 people in the National Guard. If it doesn't work, go outside and post recruitment notices at the military base. We must recruit all the people by the end of September."

"Boss, I think we can let Best go to Vietnam to find someone. There... seems to be a war going on there." Jason Bourne made a suggestion.

Victor squinted his eyes and looked into the distance. He didn't say anything. After thinking for a moment, he shook his head and said, "Let's talk about it later."

Jason Bourne responded. After coming out of the conference room, he walked to the phone hanging at the corner, threw in a coin, pressed the number, rang twice, and the other side answered the phone.

"Hello~" Ethan Hunt's relaxed voice sounded.

Jason Bourne listened to the sound of the waves and the laughter of women from the opposite side, and his eyes twitched. MD, I, the person in charge, am working overtime, but you are having a great time.

"It's me, Jason, where are you?"

"Oh~ I'm at Lake Tahoe in Nevada, oh, damn it! Honey, can you put on your clothes? OMG, your butt is so nice."

Jason Bourne was furious, "CNMD! Ethan Hunt, the boss asked you to come back and work overtime!"

"Are you kidding? I've taken a year off, and there are still 10 days left." Ethan Hunt on the opposite side was stunned and said quickly.

"You can cancel your annual leave!"

"If you don't come back, I'll throw you to Siberia." Jason Bourne's voice was filled with the pleasure of revenge, "You don't want to grow potatoes in the ice and snow, do you?"

Ethan Hunt wailed, "You are exploiting your employees."

"Yes! Man, please come back to report at six o'clock tomorrow night, otherwise you will lose your performance bonus this year!" He hung up after saying that.

Listening to the empty voice on the phone, Ethan Hunt cursed.

A girl came up to him and covered his face directly, "Honey, who's calling?"

Ethan Hunt almost suffocated, "It's from an old virgin!"

The bikini girl was startled and laughed happily.

…

It was late at night.

Tijuana was lively again at night.

Although the previous "war on drugs" made the nightlife sluggish for two or three days, it soon regained its popularity.

It is impossible for the city hall to continue the state of martial law, which will not collect taxes.

In the 13th block in the northwest corner of the city, the population is complicated. On average, there is a homicide every 20 hours, a robbery every 17 hours, and a theft every 27 minutes.

A lot of garbage gathers here, of course, not everyone is garbage.

There are also people who work hard.

Bang bang bang...

The sound of the basketball hitting the ground is very crisp. I saw a dozen black people playing basketball in an open-air basketball court, and there were dozens of spectators sitting around, and some little girls?

A black man dunked the ball, but the ball bounced out and didn't go in at all. The people around him booed and laughed.

The black man looked embarrassed and waved to his teammates.

At this time, the basketball rolled to the side of a trash can. A thin old woman was rummaging through the trash can, and behind her stood a little boy, skinny, holding a woven bag in his hand, and short in stature.

"Hey! Throw the basketball over here." The black man who dunked the ball shouted twice, and the little boy responded timidly, grabbed the basketball and threw it hard, but the power was not enough, so he didn't throw it too far.

"Waste!" The black man who dunked the ball cursed, walked over to pick up the basketball, frowned and looked at the little boy in front of him, and then listened to the laughter of the audience next to him. He didn't know which one was wrong, so he just took the basketball and threw it over.

peng!

The little boy was knocked to the ground directly. The old woman who was picking up the trash heard the noise and got up quickly. She turned around and helped her grandson up.

The brains of black people... you can't know what they are thinking!

"Grandma!" The little boy cried and grabbed the old woman's arm, huddled up in fear and trembling.

"Shh! James, you are still bullying children." Someone next to him said.

"No!"

The black man glared at the person who was talking, walked over to pick up the basketball, and just saw the banknotes sticking out of the old woman's pocket, his eyes lit up, and he grabbed it!

"This... This is my money, my money!" The old woman stretched out her hand in panic, but the black man raised it and the other party couldn't get it at all.

"Please give it back to me, I want to buy medicine for my grandson! Please."

The old woman cried and even knelt on the ground to beg him not to play with the poor people, but this behavior did not arouse the other party's sympathy at all, but instead caused the laughter of the people around.

"Knock a few more times, hahaha, knock a few more times!" The black man laughed.

"Don't bully my grandma!" The little boy's eyes were red, and he didn't know where the strength came from. He rushed up and hugged the black man's thigh and bit it!

The other person screamed in pain, and slapped him to the ground with a slap. He opened his trouser legs and saw two teeth marks on them. He kicked him in a rage. The old woman saw this and hurriedly hugged the child.

He kicked the other person in the back, and he almost couldn't breathe.

The black man was still not satisfied, so he kicked him hard, cursing.

Someone nearby saw something wrong and shouted, "James, stop hitting her, are you going to beat her to death?" and grabbed him.

"I'm going to beat her to death, don't pull me, dare to bite me, do you know who I am? Bastard, do you know who I follow?"

"In Block 12, I don't have to take responsibility for killing people!"

"Grandma! Grandma!" The little boy lay on the old woman and cried.

This sound... is uncomfortable to hear.

Squeak~

Suddenly, there was a sound of a tire braking on the ground. Looking up, they saw a police van parked outside the basketball court, and a man got out of the car.

"The police are here, hurry up, James." His companion pulled him.

"What are you afraid of? What's there to be afraid of the police?"

"You're an idiot. The police aren't scary. Victor is scary!"

When James heard the name, he shrank his head. Just as he was about to leave, Sweet, who was patrolling here, shouted, "Stop!"

But the black man, who saw that something was wrong, didn't listen at all.

beng!

With a gunshot, James fell to the ground, hugging his legs and wailing, and the others were so scared that they stopped immediately.

"Who of you can outrun my bullets?" Sweet grinned, glanced at the old woman in the distance, and said to the police, "Go and see."

"James Raymond, nickname: Fister Car, a street thug in the 12th block, has 7 robberies, 17 fights, and 2 rapes, and he also briefly joined a drug cartel." Piette held a list in his hand with the latest criminal record and a photo on it.

"You've committed so many things, and you can still come out? Who is standing behind you?" Sweet asked with a frown.

But James was busy howling.

"Boss... it's over, she's been kicked to death." The police officer who observed the old woman's condition shouted.

Sweet was immediately angry.

"Shotgun!"

The police officer behind him handed over a Winchester Defender 1300 shotgun. Sweet pulled the bolt and shot James in the head!

Not satisfied yet, pull again, shoot again!

This head, it was directly destroyed...

"Damn, who is James hanging out with!" Sweet asked a black woman standing next to him. She had a nose ring and a tattoo on her face that said: Al diablo conmigo! (Fuck me!)

The black woman was so scared that her legs were shaking. She didn't even listen to the question.

Sweet shot her...

The place where she was hit was torn into pieces.

"Who is James hanging out with? Answer me!" He continued to question another person.

"Don't...don't kill me! Don't kill me!"

"Answer me! Bastard!"

"Follow the "locomotive" Felix Hills of Block 12!"

bong!

Sweet shot him in the head with a single shot. After the body stood up, it fell heavily.

"Thank you!"

Sweet looked at the trembling audience around him and grinned, "Are there any of you who are still in gangs?"

...