Victor remained silent, his expression grim.
It wasn't until Casare ntioned "Rio" that he lifted his eyelids.
"The worst is Rio."
Casare's voice finally carried a hint of tension. He flipped to the last few pages of the report, where a few blurry photos were affixed, showing the densely packed slum houses and several spots with traces of black smoke, "The slums of Rio have always been the domain of the drug traffickers, ard better than the gangs in Northern Guatemala. They have anti-tank missiles from the Black Market, and previously when we blocked the channel to Central and South Arica, their cocaine piled up in warehouses unsellable, and those drug traffickers were already simring with anger. Last Thursday, the Brazilian military and police jointly conducted a sweep of the Rosina Slum to try to regain so initiative, but then..."
He swallowed hard, as if suppressing the bitterness in his throat: "Two hundred people went in, only twenty-seven ran out. The rest were either shot dead in the alleys or taken hostage. Marcus's people set up an ambush on the rooftops of the slums, shot down two military helicopters with anti-tank missiles, the wreckage still stuck on the church spire, they even dragged the police corpses to the slum entrance, stripped off their uniforms, poured red paint on them, posing them in 'surrender' positions for the dia to photograph. Now, no one in Rio dares to go outside, stores are all closed, and even ambulances don't dare to go near the slums."
"And the crazier part is yet to co."
Casare handed the report forward, a transcript of a radio recording was clipped inside it, "The local drug traffickers issued a statent through the local underground radio yesterday, saying they have taken control of three main highways in Rio, two public hospitals in the city center, five schools, and even occupied three Five-star hotels near Copacabana Beach, with thousands of tourists inside, all of whom have beco hostages."
"They say that Rio is now a free zone for drug traffickers, with more than two million residents in the city as his hostages, giving the Brazilian governnt two conditions: Either they withdraw all anti-drug military and police and reopen the drug channels to Europe; or he will kill ten people every day, starting with the foreign tourists in the hotels, and once they are done with the tourists, he will move on to the patients in the hospitals."
The office fell silent, only the faint sound of traffic from the square outside, and the "thud, thud" of Victor's fingers tapping on the armrest was heard.
He stared at the photograph in the report, the Rosinha Slum like a black patch on the map of Rio, but now it had beco a new powder keg igniting the chaos of drugs in South Arica.
"The Brazilian governnt is already in chaos."
Casare added, "The President held an ergency eting yesterday. The military wants to send Special Forces to storm in, the police fear for the hostages, not wanting to anger Marcus, both sides are at each other's throats. Now the global dia is focused on Rio, with such a big incident in Rio, many people have started to waver."
Victor, however, suddenly laughed, "It's just the voice of the surrender faction."
"Boss, at a ti like this, you can still laugh? Those Brazilian politicians are a bunch of wimps! The Presidential Palace has been arguing for two days with no conclusion, the military calls for a strong attack yet hasn't even figured out the deploynt of firepower in the slums. The police, on the other hand, cry to the dia every day saying they need to prioritize the safety of the hostages, safety my ass! If this drags on, those madn really dare to kill ten people a day, by then global public opinion could swallow the Brazilian governnt, and the efforts we've put into Latin Arica would go down the drain too!"
He grew more agitated as he spoke, slamming his palm heavily on the edge of the desk: "If you ask , the Brazilian military are just cowards! Holding tanks and helicopters, yet not having the guts to charge into the slums. They're not even as good as a border camp from the xican Army! If it were us, we would've already sent in the Omo Group with heavy firepower to take out the drug traffickers' command post first, then rescue the hostages in sequence. No way would we be threatened like this by a single drug trafficker!"
"Do you think the Brazilian military doesn't want to act? They don't dare to act, who knows how many arms depots belonging to drug traffickers are hidden in the Rosinha Slum? If the anti-tank missiles can shoot down helicopters, there might be weapons to deal with armored vehicles too, more than two million hostages scattered across the city, highways, hospitals, and schools all controlled. If a single hostage incident occurs during a strong attack, the Brazilian governnt would collapse."
He pulled the report from Casare's hands, "Look here, Copacabana Beach's three hotels, each has plastic explosives buried within the floors by drug traffickers, remote land mines under the hotel entrance flowerbeds. Our informant in Rio sent back the news yesterday, the drug traffickers mixed C4 explosives bought on the Black Market into the cent, painted it to match the walls, even detectors might not find them all."
"More troubleso is that he has thousands of foreign tourists in his hands, a distant relative of the British Royal Family among them, if the Brazilian governnt dares to attack, not to ntion the casualties of the hostages, the re pressure could force the President to resign overnight."
Victor's voice lowered, "Moreover, Brazil isn't dealing with ordinary drug traffickers, many of them are forr military, familiar with military tactical deploynts. The tactics used in ambushing the military convoy this ti already show that."
Casare's anger gradually subsided, "So are we just going to watch? If drug traffickers really start killing hostages, other drug traffickers in Latin Arica will follow suit, by then the anti-drug points we have in Colombia and Peru might also be besieged by them."
"Everything would have to be torn down and redone."
Victor leaned back in his chair, "Of course we can't just watch, send our several Special Forces teams over, and use our intelligence to relay so of the information inside, we need to have a comprehensive plan."
"But on the side of the Brazilian governnt..." Casare wanted to say sothing, but was interrupted by Victor raising his hand.
"The Brazilian governnt will agree."
Victor squinted, "There's no coaxing the drug traffickers nicely!"
...
Rio de Janeiro.
The screen originally broadcasting the morning news suddenly turned to static, a few seconds later, Marcus Silva, the spokesman for the Red Command (Comando Verlho), his scarred face filled the screen. He wore an oil-stained camouflage uniform, with two drug traffickers holding AK-47s standing behind him.
"Good morning, Rio dearies!" Marcus's voice ca through a low-quality microphone, accompanied by a piercing electric current noise, "Do you see the hotel behind ? Copacabana Palace Hotel, now it's our happy base, the tourists inside are sipping champagne under the sun, of course, as long as the Brazilian governnt doesn't interfere."
The cara suddenly panned to behind him, a few drug traffickers holding submachine guns pushed a British tourist to the cara.
The tourist's face was pale, hands tied behind his back, a thick hemp rope around his neck, the other end clenched in a trafficker's hand. Marcus reached out and patted the tourist's cheek, with enough force to make him stagger, yet Marcus smiled, showing yellow teeth: "Did you hear that? Police, military, don't think about stepping across the line I drew! Rio de Janeiro is Happy City, the highways are happy passages, even those two public hospitals are now our happy clinics. Anyone who dares to tear down my venue, I'll turn this place into a slaughterhouse!"
He suddenly pointed the muzzle of an AK-47 at the cara, the dark gun barrel seed to pierce through the screen: "Yesterday a witless patrol cop tried to get close, you know where he is now?"
The cara abruptly switched, showing a crooked electric pole with the patrol cop's uniform torn into pieces hanging on it, with "Happy City does not welco dogs" written in red paint underneath.
Marcus's voice ca again, bringing a cruel taunt: "Starting today, I will greet everyone at noon, if one day I don't see a governnt troop withdrawal announcent—"
He grabbed a little girl holding a teddy bear beside him, "Then let these 'happy kids' pay the price for the governnt, rember, Rio is my city now, it only needs happiness, not police!"
...
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