Working as a police officer in Mexico Chapter 1806: 795: Latin America's Last Bit of Affection? (P

Capítulo 1806: Chapter 795: Latin Arica’s Last Bit of Affection? (Part 5)

He walked to the door and turned back: “One last thing, Mr. President. History is written by the brave. Guatemala has a chance to shake off the label of a ‘xican puppet’ and beco a truly independent, powerful nation. And you have the opportunity to be the ‘founder’ of this country, not a ‘little brother’ to the leader of a neighboring country.”

“The United Kingdom is willing to help you!”

This sentence pierced Alfonso’s heart like a needle.

He rembered what Victor had said to him three years ago: “Alfonso, do your best. What Guatemala needs is a captain, not another dictator.”

At that ti, the tone was encouraging, but thinking back now, it seed more like an instruction from a superior to a subordinate.

Sure enough, once the heart changes, everything seems like it’s manipulating you.

Just like with my twenty-sothing girlfriends back then.

“I will seriously consider it,” Alfonso said.

After Salisbury left, only the Portillo brothers remained in the study.

Herman rushed to the coffee table, picking up the docunt with trembling fingers: “Brother! Five hundred million British Pounds! And subsequent oil profit sharing! This is a once-in-a-lifeti opportunity!”

Alfonso, however, walked to the window and watched Salisbury’s car lights vanish down the tree-lined path of the manor.

“Herman, do you rember how father died?”

Herman was taken aback: “Beaten to death by the military governnt’s police… during the strike suppression of 1982. Why do you suddenly ask?”

“Because of what father said before he died.” Alfonso’s voice was soft, “He said, ‘Son, never trust those who wear suits and ties. Today they’ll give you candy, tomorrow they’ll take your life.'”

“British people are not the military governnt!”

“But they are the sa.”

Alfonso turned around, weariness on his face that Herman had never seen before, “They all want to use us as pawns. The difference is, the military governnt wants us as slaves, the British want us as cannon fodder.”

Herman waved the docunt excitedly: “So what? At least the British give money! Give weapons! What has xico given? Charity! And condescending moral lectures! Brother, we are not their dogs!”

“So should we beco the British’s dogs?” Alfonso retorted.

“We are cooperating! Strategic partners!” Herman almost shouted, “With this money, we can arm an army of a hundred thousand! We can buy the most advanced fighter jets! By then, not just xico, the entire Central Arica will have to watch our steps!”

Alfonso was silent for a long ti.

Outside, the night sky of Guatemala had no stars, only heavy clouds.

He finally said, “Follow the script the British provided. Also, have the Departnt of Defense co up with a ‘Border Defense Enhancent Plan’, budget… just write two hundred million US Dollars. The remaining three hundred million, transfer to our account in the Cayman Islands.”

Herman bead a smile: “I’ll handle it right away!”

“Wait.” Alfonso called him back, “Before the plan is implented, don’t let any word of it leak. Especially not to those ‘idealists’ within our governnt. If xico finds out we’re in contact with the British, everything will be lost.”

“Don’t worry, brother.” Herman patted his chest, “I know what to do.”

After his brother left, Alfonso stood alone in the study.

He walked to the fireplace, watching the flickering flas, suddenly recalling that night four years ago: in a safe house in xico City, it was just Victor, Casare, and him, gathered around a crude map, planning the overthrow of the military governnt.

Back then, they believed the revolution would change everything.

“The revolution did change everything,” Alfonso murmured, “it’s just that the direction of change wasn’t quite what we thought.”

He took a pistol from the drawer, a gift from Victor when he took office as president, with the words “For the People” engraved in Spanish on the handle.

Now, he had to hold this gun to betray the man who gave it to him.

The flas crackled in the fireplace, as if mocking this absurd world.

…

Three days later, in xico City, at the National Security Council eting room.

Victor sat at one end of a long table, several reports spread before him. Casare, President Anatoly Lunacharsky, Bramo, the Minister of Internal Affairs, the Director of the Counterintelligence Bureau Bennett, and Air Force leader Admiral Zolf Sherman were gathered on either side.

“Let’s begin.” Victor said.

Bennett stood up first and turned on the projector.

The screen displayed a complicated communication network diagram, the central node marked with “Guatemala City.”

“Over the past 72 hours, we detected abnormal communication activity among high-ranking officials in the Guatemalan governnt.” Bennett used a laser pointer to indicate several flashing red dots, “The frequency of encrypted calls between the Presidential Palace, Departnt of Defense, and Ministry of Internal Affairs has tripled, and more importantly, seven signals were directed externally.”

“Where to?” Casare asked.

“Two to London, three to Miami, one to Panama City, and one…”

Bennett switched the display to a satellite photo, “at a private manor forty kiloters west of Guatemala City. We traced the signal of an encrypted satellite phone, registered to the ‘British Council.'”

The atmosphere in the eting room turned heavy.

“The British Council?” Bramo frowned, “Their representative in Guatemala is…”

“Sir Richard Salisbury.” Bennett brought up a photo, “Forr deputy director of MI6 Middle East Departnt, ‘retired’ three years ago and transferred to beco the British Council’s Central Arica representative. According to our files, he is proficient in both Spanish and Portuguese, with over twenty years of working experience—or rather, intelligence activities—in Latin Arica.”