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Now reading: Chapter 1126: 558: Victor: Prison Is Prison! from Working as a police officer in Mexico, a Action novel by Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 1126: Chapter 558: Victor: Prison Is Prison!

George Smiley broke into a sweat imdiately.

Victor turned around.

“Don’t be nervous, I know the challenges of espionage work.”

As he spoke, he picked up a cigar from the table and handed it over, “A Cuban offering.”

George Smiley quickly took it with both hands, and Victor lit the cigar for him, making the Director of Internal Affairs feel quite awkward.

“Thank you, Supre Leader.”

“We need to stir up the people’s enthusiasm, both honor and material rewards should be promoted in newspapers. Anonymity is, of course, possible. Besides, it should be recorded in their files, with priority given to families with mbers working in the governnt or the military for promotion.”

“Those who help external forces in intelligence work will be severely punished. If there are family mbers working in the governnt or the military, they will be dismissed on the spot, and in severe cases, families will be expelled from the country!”

This system was called “collective punishnt” in ancient tis.

But Victor is still too kind, just expelling them…

Though it is still quite severe.

Consider the shocking “Larry Wu-Tai Chin” case in 1986, the person who sold him out… cough cough, let’s talk about it later.

Anyway, Victor cannot tolerate any sand in his eye.

Just like Olikha Fajyeski, a forr Soviet Union’s down-and-out man, Victor didn’t mind his background and gave him the position of Deputy Director of Diplomacy, with an annual salary of how much?

Nearly 400,000 Riyals!

He was also given a house and a car, but in the end?

Still, people can never be content!

The more Victor thought about it, the angrier he got, frowning, “Sentence Olikha Fajyeski and the spies within the governnt to death.”

“All public officials should learn and watch the handling results.”

George Smiley shivered all over, “Yes!”

Victor waved his hand.

The other party saluted and walked out, gently closing the door.

He exhaled a breath, opened the tea leaf box on the table, and suddenly froze.

He saw his points rapidly increasing!

1817121411…

1817123821…

1817132000…

“Where did sothing happen?”

Haiti, Port-au-Prince.

More than 60 local gangs gathered over 200,000 people to start causing a commotion and indiscriminately killing innocents in Port-au-Prince.

It started at a market in the city center, where they rushed in and began to slaughter recklessly.

Compatriots?

These bastards don’t have that concept in their eyes!

“Mama, Mama…” a little black girl sat on the ground crying loudly, next to her lay a woman with a smashed chest, already dead.

Her cries were loud.

Three gang mbers wearing masks, ard with M16 rifles, and with G9 tattoos on their arms, looked at the heart-wrenching child.

They looked at each other.

One of them suddenly walked over, pulled out a hand grenade, pulled the pin, and stuffed it into the little girl’s clothes.

Then turned and pounced away.

The little girl felt the pain, it was too hot, and she tugged at her clothes hard.

The next second…

Boom!

Her entire body was blown to bits.

The three gang mbers stood up, laughed heartily, and pointed at the pieces.

This was not an isolated case.

Port-au-Prince…

Murder was everywhere!

Screams and wails turned this city instantly into hell!

Jimmy Cherizier looked at the National Palace with hatred, standing on a pickup truck rigged with a KPV 14.5mm heavy machine gun!

Ard militants crowded behind him.

But many people, besides the M16, also had lots of rocket launchers.

LRAC 1950 73mm Rocket Launchers!

French products!

There were also RPG-7s, RPG-29s, and even Arica’s M72 LAW rocket launchers from Hess East Corporation in 1958.

Truly globally assembled!

However, to be fair, this firepower is at least stronger than a third of the Latin Arica armies.

Of course, this is a conservative estimate.

Jimmy Cherizier waved his hand, “Charge! Kill the President, kill the xicans, victory belongs to the true Haitians!”

The little brothers cheered loudly.

Thousands of people started to surge forward from three angles at the front.

The National Palace now only had a directly subordinated battalion of a division and half an armored vehicle battalion, about 600 people.

They had already set up a circle of defensive systems around the periter.

Of course, they’re not foolish. Besides the National Palace building, they had also occupied the buildings on both sides next to it.

Ford a triangular fire network.

Those who have played “Battlefield” know that although you have houses, you can’t rely on them for defense. That’s the last line.

Once your peripheral positions fall, the fight inside houses will appear hasty and tense.

Major Fritz Klingenberg stood behind the sandbag barrier, wearing protective goggles, and fired an M240 machine gun!

Ratatatatata…

Gang mbers at the front were shot and fell, the ones behind stepped over their corpses, wielding their guns to counterattack!

“Bullets, bullets!”

Major Fritz Klingenberg shouted loudly, the assistant gunner beside him squatted to reload.

With a slap to cover, giving a thumbs up towards him.

“The War Beast” spitting its own flas!

Jimmy Cherizier bit his teeth, looking at the solid defense line, grabbed a nearby brother, “Let everyone use rocket launchers to blow open the defense line first. I don’t believe those damn sandbags can stop us!”

“Understood!”

The underling hurriedly ran to convey the order, “Rocket launchers, all use rocket launchers!”

Dozens of gang mbers holding rocket launchers began to load them with the help of others.

Whistle—

The tail fins shrieked.

The first dozen rockets flew towards the sandbags.

“Boom! Boom!”

Blowing the sandbags into pieces, the soldiers behind didn’t have an easy ti either.

A dic, holding gauze, pressed hard on a casualty’s severed leg, as the blood sprayed out like a fountain.

His face was expressionless, his hands moving swiftly, and after dressing the wound, he dragged the injured man back by his collar.

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