Working as a police officer in Mexico Chapter 1563: 725: The Bottom Line Is Truly Gone

Capítulo 1563: Chapter 725: The Bottom Line Is Truly Gone

“Tell the advance team to keep their eyes sharp when they’re checking the train station. Also, have our people in Cancun start moving. I want to see a preliminary report on these disappearances before we arrive, as detailed as possible.”

“Yes, boss!” Casare and George Smiley responded simultaneously.

The atmosphere in the carriage suddenly beca even heavier.

Outside the window, rain and snow continued to pound against the glass. In the dim light, the train seed to be heading toward an unknown vortex, where danger lurked.

Victor sat back on the sofa, picked up a cigar, and took a deep drag.

“It seems that this southern tour won’t start off boring. I hope our friends in Quintana Roo have prepared their welcoming ceremony, and I hope they… don’t give a reason.”

…

The news that Victor’s first stop on the southern tour would be Cancun struck like a bolt of lightning out of the blue, or like a wildfire, instantly burning through the facade of elegance on Quintana Roo’s political scene.

The word coming from the wind was enough to make those with guilty consciences restless.

In the state governnt building, officials hurriedly exchanged knowing glances, and the usually sluggish paperwork process seed to speed up several tis overnight.

Hernan Morales, the Deputy Minister of Comrce for Quintana Roo, a middle-aged man usually mindful of his appearance, now had disheveled hair and beads of sweat on his forehead that he didn’t bother to wipe. He was almost running through the marble-tiled corridor, even unable to respond to the secretary’s greeting, heading straight to the Deputy Minister of Health’s office on the other side of the building.

He didn’t care about any etiquette, directly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

Inside the office, Alfredo Marquez, the Deputy Minister of Health, was facing away from the door, intently watching the large-screen TV mounted on the wall. A heated horse race was being broadcast live, the comntator’s voice hoarse with excitent.

Marquez clutched the remote in one hand, the other hand clenched into a fist with tension, veins bulging on the back, muttering unconsciously: “Go! Go! Hurricane, overtake it! Damn it, overtake!”

“Marquez!” Morales was boiling with anger as he watched this.

Gambling!

Gambling on this!

Marquez was startled, turned around abruptly, his face still flushed with a gambler’s excitent and impatience: “Hernan? What’s your problem? Can’t you see I’m at a critical mont?”

His gaze couldn’t help but glance at the TV screen again. On the screen, the horse he’d heavily bet on, nad “Black Hurricane,” was overtaken by another horse at the last bend, ultimately losing the lead.

“Damn!” Marquez furiously slamd the remote onto the desk, producing a loud bang, the expensive remote instantly shattered to pieces, his face full of regret and anger, turned to Morales, “You better have sothing damn important!”

Morales quickly stepped forward, grabbed Marquez’s arm, “Important? Rodrigo, are you out of your mind from gambling on horses?! Haven’t you heard? Leader Victor is on his way here, the special train has already departed!”

Marquez was taken aback, then sowhat irritably shook off Morales’s hand, bent down to grab a bottle of chilled beer from the small fridge on the floor, bit off the cap with his teeth, and took a large gulp.

“So he’s coming, he’s the national leader, isn’t it normal for him to inspect the region? We just need to prepare the report materials and arrange the reception, why panic like the sky is falling?” He wiped the beer foam from his lips, indifferent, “It might even be an opportunity. If the reception goes well, perhaps we could move up a bit.”

“Opportunity?! Move up?!”

Morales was so enraged that he almost laughed, pointing at Marquez’s nose, his fingers trembling, “Rodrigo, wake the hell up! Do you know what we’ve done?! Do you think he’s one of those central officials who just go through the motions, take so benefits, and then turn a blind eye? He’s Victor! Do you even have any idea what’s happening in Michoacán now?”

ntioning “Michoacan” caused a slight restraint in Marquez’s impatience, a barely noticeable fear flickered in his eyes, but he still insisted, “Michoacán is Michoacán, they have tribal insurgency. What do we have here? A tourist paradise, the face of xico! What we’ve done… is it the sa as wielding guns and knives?”

“Not the sa? Huh.”

Morales lowered his voice, leaned forward, almost pressing into Marquez’s face, “Tell , joining forces with those private hospitals, forging dical records, inflating dical projects, defrauding the federation’s healthcare funds, if this account is uncovered, is it enough to get us executed? And that’s just an appetizer!”

He paused, “And… to satisfy special clients’ demands, getting people to kidnap lone tourists, those Aricans, Canadians, Europeans… where are they now? Hmm? Where did their parts go? Where did that money, that blood-stained dirty money go?! Alfredo Marquez, don’t forget, the money you lost gambling on horses, the mansions and jewels you bought for those mistresses, where did the money co from?! Do you honestly think it ca from your salary?!”