Victor couldn’t use his Golden Finger to check on everyone.
The plate was too big.
With nearly thirty thousand ard personnel, plus thousands of ordinary civil servants who depended on their own inco, and Tijuana’s population of over three million.
If he had to look at each one, he’d have to wait till hell freezes over.
The only thing he could do was to replace the top brass with his own people and keep a tight grip on the gun.
People pinched by the Golden Finger of course wouldn’t betray him.
But you couldn’t possibly replace all the one hundred million plus xicans with your own people, right?
It seems...
It’s not impossible either.
When that ti cos, with the strength of over one hundred million people, what would you do?
Um...
Stepping on sewing machines would definitely make money.
Tijuana. Night.
The gambling den in District 30.
Since the last crackdown, the casinos here had beco much more legal and compliant. Twenty "gambling licenses" were auctioned to Victor for over 120 million US dollars, and to prevent them from growing too powerful—
Victor’s "Hope" company also beca a shareholder, along with Tijuana’s local finance departnt, leeching off this endless cash flow.
There was no worry about a lack of players; even with the high taxes, the casinos paid the money, and how much extra charge custors needed to pay was decided by the staff inside.
It got lively here at night.
Aricans, xicans, Guatemalans, and even Canadians were here, and you could see faces of Asian descent. With the casinos as its foundation, other accompanying industries also sprouted up like mushrooms after rain.
Illegal.
But please don’t forget to pay taxes.
Your body also belongs to Mr. Victor.
Under the "governnt endorsent," District 30 quickly transford from a dirty, vulgar, chaotic slum into a bustling entertainnt district.
In the first month alone, it brought nearly 3 million US dollars more in revenue for Tijuana’s finance departnt.
Once the situation stabilized, more and more tourists would visit this place, which would definitely beco a pillar industry.
Inside the "Maguixiu zitel" casino.
Dressed in plain clothes, Superintendent Detrius looked frantically at his cards, squeezing them hard and shouting out loud, "Ace! Ace! Ace!"
Many people behind him were also shouting along, but when the cards were finally revealed, it turned out to be a 6.
"Player has four points, banker has six points, banker wins!" the dealer called out on the side.
"F**K!"
Detrius threw his cards on the table and cursed at the dealer, "What kind of hand is that? Shit, bitch, I’ve never won when you’re dealing!"
His voice was loud, drawing looks from people at nearby tables.
A xican bouncer quickly ca over with a smile on his face, "Superintendent Detrius, what’s wrong? Where did the fun go? Take a smoke, cool off."
"Damn, give more money, I don’t believe I’m out of luck today!"
The xican smiled looking very affable, "Of course, no problem, but you’ve already borrowed 200,000 US dollars here. This...perhaps you could pay back so first?"
"Góz, what? Afraid I can’t pay it back?"
The other was cursing inwardly; if it weren’t for your big background, your boss nad Victor, I would have killed you, a stinking cop, and thrown you onto the street a long ti ago.
200,000 dollars lent to you, all because you are a superintendent!
"Forget it, I’m not playing! Shit!" Detrius saw the look in his eyes, realizing that it wouldn’t be easy to get more money, cursed out loud, and got up to walk out of the casino.
"Boss, just like that, letting him go?" one of the lackeys asked Góz.
"What else can we do? Can you ask him for the debt? Consider us unlucky, just don’t lend to him anymore."
Góz also muttered curses as he watched the other’s retreating figure.
Actually, Victor had strictly ordered that those in the disciplinary departnt were not allowed to gamble or seek prostitutes, but Detrius wouldn’t listen.
He used to be a senior assistant in the police departnt of Tijuana. When Uncle Wei took over, he simply swapped bosses on the spot. Knowing that the new boss liked reform and favored aggressive subordinates, he imdiately applied to join the frontline.
He had established quite a few rits.
He was indeed a fierce general!
But he loved gambling and won; his salary was nowhere near enough for his splurging, so... he found a way to make so under-the-table inco. In the casino, he t a "Spanish" woman, who was very forward, and the two ended up in bed straight away.
A month later, she told him she worked for the Spanish intelligence, and most importantly, she was pregnant!
Detrius easily beca a tool in the hands of that woman.
But he was lucky and also very careful; he hadn’t been caught by Group 13, otherwise... his body would’ve already been at the door by now.
Detrius went outside the casino and lit a cigarette. Scanning around, he spotted a light in a room on the second floor of a small hotel opposite. He looked left and right, threw the cigarette on the ground, twisted the butt with the tip of his shoe, and then walked into the hotel.
The receptionist heard footsteps and was about to call out to him, but saw him wave his hand, "Looking for soone," then he quickly ran upstairs as if he were a regular.
On the second floor, he found the room, and the sign on the door read: "Resting, please do not disturb." But in the lower right corner, there was a small black dot that was barely visible unless you looked closely.
Detrius knocked rhythmically three tis on the door. The door slowly opened, revealing a crack, a pair of eyes peeked out, and upon seeing him, the person hurriedly opened the door, complaining, "Why have you only co now?"
"What’s the hurry?"
He walked in and saw seven or eight people sitting inside, all mbers of the small group he had recruited.
He had used money from his "Spanish mistress" to win over a bunch of people.
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