Casare took the first docunt from the "xican Special Joint Operations Departnt" and prepared to burn it when he went outside.
As he stepped out, an employee hurriedly ran up to him, "Sir, Officer Kennedy is looking for you."
Fat Casare furrowed his brow and handed the docunt to the employee. "Take care of this."
He rely said it in passing, and the employee, who had been a college student before with little work experience, thought it was just an ordinary docunt. Without looking at it, he tossed it into the trash can nearby.
Such lax security awareness!
It’s bound to cause problems eventually.
With intelligence matters, you could leak information without even knowing it; a casual photo can reveal your specific location.
There have even been many infamous intelligence leak incidents.
Especially in the United States...
There was a private who, while playing a video ga, sent over 3000 classified files to an internet friend who was also a military enthusiast, including detailed data on a main battle tank.
At that ti, let put it this way.
His gaming friend was also baffled.
Bro, are you for real?
After tossing the docunt, the employee didn’t care to look back at it again.
There was too much work on his hands. With many matters to attend to in Hermosillo, such as post-war reconstruction and population registration, he was extrely busy.
Hopefully...
No one else would see the docunt.
anwhile, inside the office, Victor received a call from Tijuana.
"What?"
"31 FBI corpses?"
When Victor heard Alejandro’s words, to be honest, it frightened him.
That’s the FBI we’re talking about!
To put it this way, within the national borders, the FBI can arrest him at will!
Actually, the most legendary ti was during Hoover’s era. When the CIA asked them to monitor two suspected Soviet spies active in the US, Hoover outright refused: We are not at the service of the CIA! You can do that yourselves.
The sordid affairs between the two agencies are nothing more than a struggle for power.
Neither wants to give in.
The CIA’s overseas budget is opaque and they frequently engage in "interrogation" work, which should be the FBI’s duty. Aren’t you infringing on my territory?
I can’t kill you at ho, but abroad, the CIA can play dirty.
"We cannot confirm at the mont, we only found FBI dog tags on 6 of the bodies, the identities of the others are unknown. The forensic preliminarily determined death to be at least over a year ago, and so had been tortured before dying, and even..."
Alejandro hesitated.
"Even what?"
Victor asked, frowning, "Even so of their organs are missing."
Murder for organs?
And the victims are from the FBI?
Goddamn, the locals couldn’t possibly be that fierce, right?
This...
Victor didn’t know what to say; he was feeling quite conflicted, and his mind started to spin rapidly, trying to contain the news, which was a bit difficult. Such a big case definitely had to be communicated with the Aricans.
As for who the real killer was, who knew?
Maybe Victor had already taken care of them all.
He was thinking about whether he could clutch to the FBI’s coattails; the DEA was too weak. Recruiting allies was his way forward.
Make friends in abundance, and wipe out your enemies!
"Did you find any CIA markers at the scene?" Victor abruptly asked.
Alejandro paused for a mont, knitting his brows.
He didn’t understand what the other was implying.
If it were Casare, he would definitely quip, "Boss, we found CIA fluids."
As for why they were found, only ghosts know.
Maybe CIA fluids can be preserved for a long ti?
"Did you find any CIA stuff?" Victor raised his voice again, seemingly irritated. The guy didn’t want to advance his standing, did he? Really, he couldn’t understand the implications in the conversation.
It ans to fabricate a killer if there isn’t one.
After all, everything is the CIA’s fault.
The FBI might care about who killed their employees, but they would definitely prefer if the CIA took the fall. You’re a legitimate son, and so am I. Don’t think that just because your "dad" is the current top dog, I am not the crown prince.
Alejandro now understood, and fell silent for a mont, "A CIA badge was discovered in the abdominal cavity of one individual."
Victor responded, "Get the press to spread this news. If anyone cos asking for an interview, say that this is only provisional evidence, and the identity of the killer is still undetermined."
The answer should be ambiguous.
The more you intentionally play the oracle, the "kingmakers" will pinpoint the answers for you. Journalists... seek only the truth!
Whatever is explosive, they pursue that.
If the deaths of 31 FBI employees could be pinned on the CIA, let’s see if the already mired Director William Webster will step down.
"Understood… understood."
"Good, let the bullets fly on Arican soil for a while, and if the CIA and FBI start a street war against each other, that would be even more interesting," Victor said with a laugh before hanging up.
Listening to the dial tone from the phone,
Alejandro leaned back in his boss’s chair, breaking into a cold sweat.
Victor planned to hit the CIA where it hurt!
His expression struggled slightly.
All he wanted was to strut proudly in xico, and was Victor saying he would climb even higher, to Cuauhtémoc’s position?
But Alejandro had complicated feelings about the United States.
He, too, once longed for it.
Now... even more so!
Offending the CIA is not a good way to go about things.
But can you afford to offend Victor?
If he doesn’t do what they want, Alejandro knew well, what they give they can also take away!
"Hu~"
Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he picked up the phone, "Get Jas Ryan to my office."
...
Arican Ti, nine o’clock in the evening.
At Hermosillo Airport.
A C-130 airplane, lights flashing, taxied down the runway.
You should have sent an AC-130 gunship so we wouldn’t need to send anyone.
But Uncle Sam still cares about face and reputation, exploding a new courthouse for drug enforcent?
Would I still be the big boss in Latin Arica then?
Most importantly, the Soviet Union hasn’t collapsed yet, the pressure is still there. After the Millennium, when moral principles have been completely cast aside.
I’m talking about a hundred thousand barrels of oil!
Yes, ship them today.
You won’t do it?
Then I’ll do it myself, Sweetie, I’m a bit bigger, so bear with .
When the C-130 ca to a halt and the cargo door swung open, Jonathan Pannier, donned in a desert-colored bulletproof vest, erged, followed by mbers of the High-Risk Arrest Team (HEAT).
Victor, smoking a cigarette, took a look at their gear.
Truly rolling in wealth.
Equipped with RO727 rifles, fitted with tactical lights and reflex sights—a variant of the CAR-15, also outfitted with the M733 and fitted with silencers.
A few carried M72 LAW anti-tank rocket launchers, and so were even equipped with M203 grenade launchers.
Victor had also spotted three snipers equipped with the Barrett M82A1, a weapon even the Delta Force hadn’t been issued.
You DEA guys really get to use them first.
When Victor saw Jonathan Pannier’s getup, he was taken aback, "You’re leading the team?"
"I used to be with the High-Risk Arrest Team (HEAT), it’s just that xico was lacking a director so I ca here, but I’m in charge of the DEA for this operation."
No wonder he looked so big and robust, turns out he ca straight from the military.
"First, let’s hear your plan."
"Of course."
Victor then went over the plan with him, and Jonathan Pannier was shocked. Using a C-130 to mislead the CIA?
And then take a private jet?
What kind of strategy was this?
"This... this..."
Jonathan Pannier subconsciously furrowed his brow, as a traditional Arican, he was quite proud. The thought that the DEA’s combat plans had all been overturned made him uncomfortable.
"Buddy, I’d rather throw you a victory party than a morial service. You surely don’t want to be lying in a cold national cetery, do you?"
"Of course not! My wish is to have my ashes stuffed into a rocket and sent into the sky!"
Damn, Aricans all want to be Sun Wukong.
"It’ll happen," Victor responded casually, glancing at his watch, "What do you think?"
We’re about to take off, what do I think?
Can we just turn around and go ho now?
Like that "Fish-Touching Hermit" Sasaki once did? The longest-lived mber of the kamikaze team.
Jonathan Pannier had no choice but to agree, looking intently at him, "I hope your plan goes smoothly."
Victor just nodded, then walked toward the EDM team mbers not far away.
"Attention!"
As he approached, Kennedy shouted, and all the officers stood straight.
"Gentlen, how is EDM doing?"
The officers were taken aback, but soone imdiately answered, "Aweso!"
"Ready to depart?"
"All set!"
"Colombia’s drug traffickers’ heavy hitters are all hidden here. Believe , this will be a tough fight. We’ve rehearsed the entire plan countless tis, but from the mont you hit the ground, that plan is worthless."
"It’s certain so of us will fall, I can guarantee it. Don’t let emotions control you. There are 8 million residents in that city, possibly 10,000 enemies. When I go ho, I don’t want to carry sha. I don’t want to lie awake at night, agonizing over whether my decisions were correct or not."
Victor looked at the familiar faces before him, raising his hand.
"In 20 years, you’ll be glad you took part in this battle. By then, when you’re sitting by the fireplace, your grandson on your knee asks you, ’Grandpa, what did you do in the Operation Serpent?’ You won’t have to clear your throat awkwardly, shifting your grandson to the other knee, mumbling: ’Ah...
Grandpa was shoveling manure at the ti.’ Brothers, you can look him in the eye and proudly say: ’Grandson, your grandpa fought shoulder to shoulder with the motherfucking Victor Carlos Vieri in the xican Anti-Narcotics Force EDM!’"
"For the ideals of mankind!"
"For a clear blue world!"
"For a world free of drugs, for everyone to have a smile on their face, for children to live without fear."
Victor paused, his eyes brimming with tears, "For the greatest cause of humanity!"
"Charge!"
Kennedy and the other EDM officers, moved by the pre-battle pep talk, raised their hands, "Charge! Charge! Charge!"
Jonathan Pannier and the mbers of the High-Risk Arrest Team (HEAT) watched quietly.
It was a night.
It was a man, speaking of dreams to his warriors. Don’t mock their impracticality; listen, this world is full of noise, but there are always people silently giving.
Jonathan Pannier watched Victor’s retreating figure, also feeling that charismatic, stirring passion, his own heart surging with emotion.
A moonbeam shone down, as if showing favoritism towards him, making his figure look majestic.
Jonathan Pannier smiled, muttering to himself softly.
"Motherfucking Victor Carlos Vieri!"
...
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