Working as a police officer in Mexico Chapter 1401: 673: The Lion Is Dead, Now the Beasts Can Only

Chapter 1401: Chapter 673: The Lion Is Dead, Now the Beasts Can Only Tear Each Other Apart

There can be no mishaps; many of their bonuses co from here.

Zhang Quan ignored the looks from those two police officers. He bent down to pick up the phone on the hood, when suddenly his pocket started vibrating. It was another phone, a satellite phone hidden in the inner pocket of his suit that only a select few knew about, not even his wife.

He paused for a mont.

It wasn’t Ah Biao’s number, nor was it the number of any one of the Golden Triangle bosses.

His thumb hovered over the answer button for two seconds.

Zhang Quan picked it up.

There was no greeting, just a low, deep breathing.

“Good morning, Mr. Zhang,” the voice leisurely said.

Zhang Quan’s brow furrowed instantly into a dead knot, yet he didn’t let his voice betray any panic.

He stared in the direction of the distant police, noticing that those two officers were still looking over here, one of whom had already taken out a walkie-talkie. Although feeling the panic inside, he spoke calmly, “Who are you? Where are my wife and child?”

The other person chuckled again, this ti with a hint of mockery, “Your son is quite obedient; just a couple of slaps and he’ll listen. As for your wife… her ntal resilience isn’t that strong. I heard that you killed two won in your hotel room, and she almost passed out from fright.”

Zhang Quan’s pupils constricted abruptly, the matter at the hotel had only been half an hour ago, yet the other party already knew about it. Either there was a spy placed right by his side or the forces in Chiang Mai were even larger than he had imagined.

“Na your terms.”

He directly cut off the other’s nonsense, “What do you want? Money? Or the goods I have?”

“Money? Mr. Zhang underestimates .”

“I want you to go to the Chiang Mai press office tomorrow morning and say in front of all the caras, that the recent public health and security issues at the xico border, as well as the leak of the goods at Yangon Port, were all the work of Khun Sa and his drug trafficking group.”

“xico?” Zhang Quan hesitated for a mont, then suddenly reacted sharply.

Scarred woman Ruth!

It all clicked together, everything connected!

And the only person who could connect the Golden Triangle and xico, dare to take on Khun Sa and also capture his family, was Victor.

Realizing this, Zhang Quan suddenly curled his lips, “You want to help Victor.”

The person on the other end did not deny it, rely said in a bland tone, “Mr. Zhang is a smart man; he should know how to act in his best interest. As long as you do as told, by noon tomorrow, your wife and son will return to you.”

“Heh.” Zhang Quan laughed, his voice full of sarcasm, “I’ve lost my wife and children, I can find and birth them again. But cooperating with Victor?”

He paused, his tone suddenly turning fierce, “You ask Victor, I’m a drug trafficker, can he let go?!!”

The other side was silent for a few seconds, followed by a regretful sigh.

“Since Mr. Zhang has decided so, I won’t persuade further.”

The voice on the other side returned to that icy calm, “Good luck to you…”

The call was abruptly hung up.

Zhang Quan’s peripheral vision suddenly caught sight of two khaki silhouettes approaching swiftly.

It was those two Thai policen from the intersection earlier, the short one already holding a rubber baton in his palm, while the tall one’s hand rested on the holster at his waist. The sound of their boots stepping on the puddles was especially piercing in the silent alley.

“Damn it, bad luck!” Zhang Quan cursed under his breath, hurriedly bending down to pick up the phone that had fallen on the hood. The screen was shattered, impossible to turn on.

The short policeman had already reached the car, shouting sothing in Thai with a tone full of warning, his palm slapped heavily on the window, his knuckles making a thumping sound against the glass.

Zhang Quan wasn’t in any mood to listen, his fingers twisted the key to the right. Normally at this ti, the rcedes-Benz S-Class engine should have emitted a smooth, low hum, but today, when he twisted it to the end, he only heard a crisp “klak”, as if a gear had lodged itself into shattered tal, followed by a harsh, intermittent “zzzz”, like sparking wires short-circuiting.

Sothing was wrong.

Zhang Quan’s heart sank sharply, the hair on the back of his neck standing up in an instant.

He had been driving this car for three years, and even during a typhoon when it was humid, it never made such strange noises.

Zhang Quan’s heart raced so fast it felt like it would shatter his ribs. He suddenly realized sothing. The “good luck” said by the caller earlier wasn’t regretful; it was a death warrant!

Under the hood, there was suddenly a muffled “boom,” like a pressure cooker explosion.

The next second, flas shot up from the front of the car.

“Boom——!”

A loud noise shook the entire alley.

The rcedes’s hood had been blasted open, shards with sparks flying everywhere, blue flas snaked along the puddles towards the end of the alley; so hit the windows on the second floor, shattering the glass with a crash, pieces falling onto people’s heads below, eliciting screams.

The bystanders had already descended into chaos, a woman in a floral dress shrieked, threw her phone on the ground, clung to her head and darted into the alley, soone tripped, crawling forward through the water, the splashed water mixed with sparks leaving black marks on the ground.

Three hundred ters away, inside the “Mae Nam River Cafe” on the corner.

Behind the floor-to-ceiling windows, a man in a dark grey trench coat leaned against the sofa, a half-burned Cuban cigar between his fingers, ash falling on the edge of a bone china coffee cup without causing the slightest ripple.

The man slowly exhaled a puff of smoke, the vapor dispersing in front of him.

A thin layer of ash accumulated on the rim of the bone china cup; the man raised his hand, gestured towards the bar counter with a slight nod of his chin, his voice carrying a subdued accent unique to mixed heritage: “Check, please.”

He pulled a stack of crisp Thai Baht from his inner pocket and then left.

As he descended the wooden stairs of the cafe, his footsteps were so light they were barely audible.

The puddles at the street corner reflected the red light of the fire trucks, and several firefighters in orange uniforms were charging into the alley with hoses, the sound of the water hoses dragging across the ground mixed with the screams of the crowd, making for the best background music.

The man walked under a crooked banyan tree and made a phone call.

“The matter in Chiang Mai is settled.”

…

That evening, the front page headlines of all local Chiang Mai newspapers featured the photo of the rcedes-Benz, blackened by flas.

The title of “Chiang Mai Daily” used bold, black font: “Explosion in Red Light District, Chinese Descendant Businessman Killed On The Spot – Police Initially Determined It as an Accident Caused by Automotive Malfunction,” in the accompanying photo, firefighters were carrying a corpse covered by a white sheet on a stretcher, the edge of the sheet revealed a blood-stained half wrist, with a deford watch still strapped on it.

At the news conference hall of the xican Police Headquarters, the lenses of over forty caras pointed like countless gun barrels all trained on the man at the front.

Police Minister Robert Bill.

He wore a navy blue uniform without a single crease.

“Everyone.”

Robert’s voice resonated through the microphone across the venue, his deliberately lowered tone holding a trace of barely noticeable excitent, “The xican Intelligence Departnt successfully killed the head of the Golden Triangle drug trafficking group Khun Sa, along with thirty-seven core mbers.”

As soon as the words fell, the scene erupted.

The flash lights before Robert Bill turned into a blinding sea of light, and the sound of shutters clicked like dense raindrops hitting tal, mingling with the reporters’ uproarious calls, raising the temperature of the press conference hall to a fever pitch.

“Minister Bill!” a reporter in a beige suit from the front row suddenly stood up, the notebook in his hand shook with a rustle, “According to local sources in the Golden Triangle, Khun Sa was last seen along the kong River’s shores last week. Why did the xican police choose to act suddenly at this ti? Was there any prior communication with Thailand or Myanmar?”

“We don’t need to report to anyone, we’re only engaged in reprisal.”

Robert Bill: “Recent public health safety issues have been orchestrated by the Khun Sa group and so drug trafficking entities!”

!!!!!!

…