Working as a police officer in Mexico Chapter 174 - 165: Blanco? That’s my dear!

Ethan Hunt felt a subtle surge of adrenaline upon hearing that sentence.

He really wanted to offer his ass to Mr. Victor!

But then he thought about Blanco’s appearance...

His face instantly turned green.

It wasn’t a personal attack, rather she was genuinely ugly.

"Do you think I’m a male stripper?"

"Aren’t you? Every ti you go on a mission, you’re philandering around."

Ethan Hunt vented for a mont, and then Jason Bourne raised an eyebrow, "When I give you a task, if it isn’t the wind, it’s the rain. If you keep complaining, you’ll lose your overti pay for this month."

This hit Ethan Hunt’s weak spot right on.

The salary at the xico International News Departnt was really good; even a dragon needs money to book a room, right?

"Is it just getting close to Blanco?"

He still knew which way the wind was blowing.

"If possible, follow her into the new Departnt of Justice building and relay the information from inside."

Ethan Hunt took a deep breath, knowing it wouldn’t be that simple. Was it that easy to get into the new Departnt of Justice?

He had scoped out the place the past few days; cars weren’t allowed within 400 ters, and he had even planned to use a suicide truck with his colleagues from Colombia.

You can’t even drive through.

Plus, he noticed that the security in Santa Fe de Bogota had obviously tightened up recently; the likelihood of being stopped for police checks on the road was getting higher and higher.

"Alright, got it."

Ethan Hunt scanned the bar, his gaze pausing, "My target has appeared."

He then hung up the phone.

In his field of view, a man around 1.8 ters tall walked in from the entrance, with a spiral tattoo on his head, his face anxious, and his eyes scanning around as if looking for soone.

That was Ethan Hunt’s informant!

But he didn’t walk over. With a wary eye on his surroundings, he noticed four unfamiliar n glancing at the informant five tis in thirty seconds.

They were definitely watching him!

Ethan Hunt might seem careless, but as soon as he sensed trouble, he was ready to bolt.

What about the woman?

She would be beaten into mush.

Could her breasts even move by themselves?

Ethan Hunt glanced back and slipped into the crowd, heading towards the back.

"He’s there! The one in the red suit!" the bald informant, sharp-eyed, pointed at Ethan, who had just run out the back door, and yelled.

The four unfamiliar n hurriedly chased in the direction he pointed.

"Out of the way!"

The one in the lead forcefully pushed the people blocking his path aside, pushed the door open without so much as a glance at the floor, and took a step out.

beng!!

"Aaaaah!!!"

The scream instantly overpowered the DJ’s music. Many people turned to look and saw a man rolling on the ground holding his crotch.

There was blood?!

What was that explosion just now?

An exploding crotch could make such a loud noise?

Ethan Hunt was too cunning, planting a Butterfly Mine at the door during his escape. It detonated as soon as the door was opened, leaping up to waist level and leaving the victim... utterly sterile.

The damage of the Butterfly Mine wasn’t enough to kill, but it could easily maim; all right, the man would have to be reborn to beco a man again. Just bear it for this lifeti.

His companions behind him hurried over to help him up.

Leaning around the corner, Ethan Hunt cocked his rifle and, holding a military version Pistol88B, sprayed bullets at them!

The four n fell to the ground, shot. Ethan strolled over, smiled politely at one trying to get up, and bang! finished him off with a bullet to the head.

Mr. Victor had said to always smile—curse people with a grin and they might just agree with you.

Ethan Hunt was audacious. After ensuring all the n were dead, he walked back into the bar. The few tables near the back door had emptied, but those on the dance floor, perhaps high out of their minds, either hadn’t heard or didn’t care and kept dancing.

He instantly spotted the informant, who sensed that sothing was off and bolted towards the exit.

Ethan wasn’t in a rush, he tilted his head to light a cigarette for himself, took the small fruit knife used for cutting waterlon from a nearby table, walked out of the bar, and noticed a rcedes parked nearby, with a burly man sticking his head out to smoke, showing off a tattoo on his neck.

This was a man from a mid-sized cartel active near Santa Fe de Bogota called "Northern Valley," reportedly mixed up with the Cali Cartel.

Ethan looked around and, sure enough, the drug trafficker seed to be waiting for his companions. Ethan walked over, whistled, and as the burly man looked up, Ethan grabbed his head with one hand and forcefully stabbed his neck seven or eight tis with the fruit knife in his other hand.

The burly man was dead in a flash!

Ethan pulled the body out of the car, dumped it on the side of the road, sat in the car, and floored the gas pedal, chasing after the fleeing informant.

You see—

don’t park carelessly on the road; it makes you an easy target.

You have to have so sense of etiquette.

Park inside the white line, and you might get stabbed a couple tis less.

The informant, running out of breath with heavy footsteps and thinking he had lost Ethan, leaned on his knees and gasped for air.

Beep beep~

A horn sounded from behind, the informant turned around, and a beam of light shone on his face.

Ethan Hunt slamd the gas pedal to the floor, plowing right into the informant, pinning him against the wall on the side of the road!

"Ah!"

The informant howled in pain, scaring the bystanders so much they all ducked their heads and quickly ran away!

In the Latin Arican region, very few people were out late at night, and even those who went out knew not to get curious when they encountered murders, dismbernts, or shootouts.

Ethan Hunt pushed open the car door, looked at the informant, "Were those your friends just now?"

"No... they weren’t..." The informant was sobbing.

Ethan nodded, pressed his head down, and twisted the lit cigarette right into the informant’s eye, instantly releasing the stench of scorched cornea.

"You bastard! I’m not very patient!" Ethan Hunt grabbed his head, "Who were those people!"

"Ca... Cali Intelligence Agency!" the informant cried out.

Ethan Hunt frowned, it seed he was still being shadowed by those "damn pests," Cali KGB’s reputation was not for nothing.

Even the CIA had to call the Cali Intelligence Agency ’Boss’ when in Colombia!

They even knew what underwear the President wore at night.

It’s said that the precise location of Pablo’s death was provided by the Cali Cartel.

"Thank you!"

"Don’t worry, take your ti, I’ll be sure to reunite you with your family."

Ethan Hunt smoothly plunged the fruit knife into the informant’s neck, straightened his collar with flair, and ducked into the adjacent alley.

About five minutes later, four or five cars arrived, blocking the road, and more than a dozen n got out. The man leading them kicked the dead informant in anger upon seeing him.

Cursing with classic Colombian profanity.

This man looked a bit... shabby, but his na had been in the top ten of Colombia’s most wanted list—his na is Salsedo!

His background was incredibly complex, born into a family of high-ranking Colombian officials, joined the army reserves after university, was later sent to British Intelligence for training, and was considered a proud protege of MI6, served in the British Commando Brigade and under the Colombian Governnt’s direction, he organized rcenaries to combat dostic guerrillas.

Later on...

He defected to the Cali Cartel; they offered too much.

After he helped the Cali Cartel set up a rcenary squad and trained them for several months, their first major operation was to attack Pablo’s residence at Naples Manor, but unfortunately, a helicopter crashed and the assassination failed.

It was also him who later thought of using a bomber to finish off Pablo.

This guy wasn’t great at assassination, but he excelled at intelligence.

Right, his main profession was... civil engineer.

Salsedo had long noticed that so "unidentified" individuals had infiltrated Colombia. They were highly organized and moved in mysterious ways, unlike the CIA, who were quite sloppy.

"Damn it!"

Salsedo, still irate, kicked a car tire and stood, hands on hips.

"Boss, the police are here."

"Let them piss off. What are they doing here when the Cali Cartel is dealing with things?"

The scolded subordinate could only go and take out his frustration on the police!

"Find them we must. If there’s an error during the eting, I’m telling you, both your head and mine will be chopped off by Elbert," Salsedo said nacingly to a subordinate, repeatedly jabbing the man’s chest with his finger.

"Understood! I got it!"

Ethan Hunt walked into the alley, scaled a few walls—after all, it’s normal for an agent to take unconventional paths. He took off his clothes, threw them in a trash can, then pulled out his phone.

"Take out the informant’s mistress! Also, find out where Blanco is right now?"

"What should I do?"

"I’ll handle it!"

The xican International News Departnt Colombian Branch employee on the other end was taken aback but then quipped oddly, "Boss, so you like to ride tanks, huh? But she really is rich, seems to have a net worth of almost 3 billion US dollars!"

"Knock it off! Stay respectful to won!"

Ethan Hunt took a deep breath, trying his best to adapt, "She’s my sweetheart."

...

Three days after the reclaiming of Obregon City.

Temporary tarmac.

Three ard helicopters slowly descended from the sky.

Kennedy and Zolf Sherman among other high-ranking police officials stood by.

Victor was coming to inspect the front lines and to offer condolences to the families of the soldiers lost from Battalion 442.

This was to be a formal alignnt of military force with the drug enforcent team, and regardless of the perspective, Victor needed to pay a visit.

"¡De pie!"

As Victor stepped off the Mi-8, the ceremonial guards on either side stood up straight, and Victor solemnly saluted them.

The accompanying reporters hurried to capture the mont.

"Victor’s Respect!"

They already had the headline.

"Director," Kennedy approached quickly with Zolf Sherman.

"Rest at the hotel first?"

"No, let’s go straight to the chapel. I need to tell my officers that I, Victor, have co to see them."

Kennedy nodded and busily directed the vehicles to co forward.

The motorcade headed towards the chapel.

...