Decisive, ruthless, every shot lethal.
Paul Emile looked deeply at the old man; this old man didn't seem like a good person either.
Indeed, no good people in xico.
"I'll let the soldiers cooperate with you to find the criminals in the slums and clean them up," Paul Emile patted the old man's shoulder.
He had actually just said a sentence.
"Obey well, and I guarantee your family will prosper. You wouldn't want your whole family to be killed by drug traffickers again, right?"
The old man reacted vehently.
His forehead almost bore the mark of loyalty as he nodded vigorously.
In the slums, "support" a chamber pot, if he does well, he continues; if not, kill him and replace him.
Once the economy develops, such places will naturally disband.
After all, it all cos down to the economy.
Just as the old man was going to trouble people with great vigor, Paul Emile was about to rest when a soldier ca up, whispered in his ear, then pointed at a young boy in the distance.
"Bring him here."
The soldier ran over and gestured to the boy with a hook of his finger. The boy hurried over, looking malnourished but very clean, his clothes patched up.
"Where are your parents, kid?"
The boy shook his head, calmly, "Dead."
Paul Emile frowned, squinting, "You're lying!"
"Why are your clothes so clean? They don't look like those of a slum kid."
The boy, head lowered, "My mom said to keep clean, not to let others look down on us."
Paul Emile was taken aback, looking at him, "I heard you have sothing to tell ."
The boy nodded, "I found a family in the slums that's very suspicious, moving in and out mysteriously, and I noticed, their house has no trash every day— that's not normal. I suspect there's sothing wrong with them."
Paul Emile, astonished, watched him, "Your observation is very detailed."
"The man of the house doesn't work every day, but they never lack money. I also saw his wife wearing a new coat, I don't know the price, but it's definitely not cheap; not sothing people from the slums could afford."
Now Paul Emile also felt there was a problem.
"Where?"
"I'll show you!" Little Boy said and then led the way in front, with Paul Emile following with a squad.
After running through the foul-slling sewage for a long ti.
Just when he thought the boy was playing him, the boy pointed to a building in the distance with lights on, "That's their house. They've rented all three floors."
"Let's check it out."
Three soldiers went to knock on the door, with Paul Emile watching from behind, he saw sothing wrong; the light was abruptly shut off.
"Break in!" he shouted.
The Corporal in front hesitated for a mont before kicking down the door, barely steadying himself when a man appeared at the stairway, holding an Uzi and spraying bullets outside.
Tat-tat-tat!
A soldier couldn't dodge in ti and was riddled with bullets.
"Flashbang!" the Corporal yelled, and a nearby soldier threw one out, popping and flashing, followed by a scream from inside.
They stord in to see the man covering his eyes in pain on the ground.
The Corporal, angry, kicked the man's teeth, while another soldier rushed upstairs and saw a woman holding a gun, screaming.
Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
A volley went off, tearing her apart.
A woman?
A woman takes more bullets!
The Corporal turned on the light to see maps on the walls all around, with Tijuana, Morelia, and nearby troop deploynts.
Paul Emile also ca up, looked at the woman's corpse on the ground, furrowing his brows, "Pull down her pants!"
The soldiers looked at each other, finally steeled themselves and pulled down her pants.
"Underwear too."
After everything was stripped down, Paul Emile's expression darkened drastically.
"Mossad!"
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