Working as a police officer in Mexico Chapter 1723: 773: Are You Willing to Invest Again? (Part 2)

Capítulo 1723: Chapter 773: Are You Willing to Invest Again? (Part 2)

Carlson leaned forward slightly, the light from the desk lamp casting shadows on his face.

“Mr. Heller, let’s be realistic. International security? Can the United Nations Security Council still et now? The nuclear non-proliferation system? Of those recognized nuclear states, who has the leisure to mind others’ backyards now? As for changing the balance of power…”

He paused, his smile faded a little, appearing more pragmatic, “The balance has long been broken, North Arica is the best example. My client believes that during the critical window period when the old order is disintegrating and the new order is yet to form, it is the natural right of sovereign nations to acquire so capability for self-preservation and ensure the right to speak. And the United States, or rather, certain channels you represent that can still access these ‘legacies,’ can obtain significant returns by providing so ‘consulting services’ or ‘historical data sharing’.”

He took out docunts from the briefcase he carried.

Handed them to Heller.

These were screenshots of Swiss Bank account details, the zeros behind the balances dizzyingly long to Heller.

Besides, there were docunts for properties located in the Caribbean Sea and South Pacific Islands, and a promise: Upon successful transaction, providing a brand new identity and absolutely safe offshore passage.

“This is rely a token of sincerity, or rather, a down paynt. The total can reach ten tis this amount, or even more, depending on the completeness of consulting services and historical data. All delivered anonymously, dispersed, in an absolutely safe manner.”

“Think about it, Mr. Heller, you’ve served this country for thirty years, what did you get? An apartnt still paying off the mortgage? A modest salary that could vanish with a governnt shutdown? And outside, war knows not how long to continue, the US Dollar depreciating daily, the future a murky chaos. Why not secure a stable and affluent life for yourself, for your family?”

Heller’s Adam’s apple moved violently.

He felt parched, heart pounding heavily in his chest. Fear and greed like two Poison Snakes wrapped around his rationality.

He knew this was treason, a potential disaster-inducing cri. But he also saw those digits in the account, thought of his wife’s complaints about rising prices, his son’s potential interruption in college due to financial issues, his own unsecured retirent prospects…and does this country still have a future? Who even guards the so-called “red line” in this fragnted nation?

“I…I need ti to consider.”

Heller’s voice was hoarse, “And even if I…I can’t do it alone. There are many links that need to be connected, so warehouse guards might be unsettled, but they are not re ornants. And the records…”

“Of course, we understand.”

Carlson’s smile turned gentle, “We don’t require you to complete all the tasks independently, we have so ‘partners’ who can provide necessary ‘secure logistics’ and ‘information clearing’ services. You just need to use your expertise and authority to accurately inventory and assess assets, and facilitate critical docunts. Ti for consideration is necessary, but I must remind you, the window period waits for no one. Other Facilitators with similar ideas might also be moving.”

He stood up, leaving a card with only a string of numbers.

“Use this number, encrypted lines, you can reach anyti. Looking forward to your good news, Mr. Heller.”

Carlson left, quietly.

In the basent, only Heller remained, staring at the lamp.

The green light bathed his pale face. Trembling, he reached for the whiskey bottle in the drawer, poured himself a large glass, and drank it all.

The spicy liquid burned down his throat.

He looked at the docunt again, then at the card. Behind the lenses, his eyes, struggle ultimately replaced by a numb defiance and desperate determination.

“To hell with peace…” he murmured, clutching the card tightly in his hand.

June 5th, Belize, San Ignacio, La Esperanza Manor.

Sunlight filtered through towering palm trees and bougainvillea trellises, casting mottled shadows on the ticulously manicured lawn, with verdant mountains in the distance, the air humid and fresh, tinged with the scent of tropical flowers and fruits.

Victor, dressed in a light blue shirt, sleeves casually rolled up, was walking slowly along the gravel path in the garden, accompanied by five or six people.

These people, aged mostly between 40 to 60, were dressed elegantly but not overly luxurious. They were Arican capitalists who, exploiting various channels to move part of their core assets, tech teams, and even families to relatively stable Belize before and after the escalation of Arican civil unrest and the outbreak of war over the past two years.

“Mr. Larson, I’ve heard your precision instrunt company has fully moved its R&D center to Belize City?” Victor asked, turning to a tall, skinny Northern European man beside him.

John Larson, forr CEO of “California Precision asurent System Company” (CPMS).

His company provides precision sensors and asurent equipnt tailored for aerospace and high-end manufacturing industries, with very high technological thresholds.

“Yes, Leader,” Larson nodded, tone respectful, “Thanks to the Belize governnt’s friendly policies and stable environnt, we’ve restored seventy percent of our research and developnt capabilities. Of course, the supply chain is a challenge, many special materials and parts used to rely on Asia or Europe.”

“Regarding the materials, we can find a way.”

Victor’s steps were composed, “xico is integrating California and Texas industrial resources, production of certain special alloys and chemical raw materials is being resud. Perhaps we can establish a trade route evaluated. Your technology, paired with our raw materials and potential market, is a great combination.”