Could it be sothing work-related?
Or perhaps...
An issue in his personal life?
He furrowed his brows, and by the ti he arrived in Tijuana, it was past seven in the evening. The staff at the Governor's Mansion were already waiting and imdiately received him.
"Christie, what on earth is going on?" After getting in the car, he asked his secretary, who was in front of him.
The latter hesitated but still recounted the incident.
Casare felt as if he had been struck by lightning out of the blue!
His eyes were blank; he couldn't even shed a single tear, yet his hands trembled.
When they arrived at the ntal hospital, his legs were so weak that he almost kneeled on the ground as he got out of the car. Jason Bourne and the secretary supported him.
They helped him walk inside.
Victor was standing at the entrance.
"Boss!" Casare's voice trembled.
"Let's go inside."
Victor sighed, patted his shoulder, and helped him walk into the room. Inside, his sister was slumped in a chair. When he saw Camila Sodi lying pale on the bed, he lost control and knelt on the ground, "Mom!"
He finally couldn't hold back his tears.
His father had died when he was young, and he had been brought up by his mother. He knew how hard it had been, worrying every day about als. Three als a day? For a poor family, that was unaffordable.
Every week he would try to find ways to supplent his nutrition, nearly 1.7 ters tall but weighing less than 90 pounds!
To see a grown man cry like this.
It made everyone standing outside feel stifled.
Victor was also in pain, he walked over, patted his shoulder, and said in a deep voice, "Don't worry, I will definitely take care of this for you."
"We'll set up a funeral committee, and I'll be in charge. Your mother is also my mother. I will make sure this matter is handled properly."
Inside the room, cries and shouts continued.
...
The next day.
The Tijuana radio declared the news.
And they portrayed Camila Sodi as a great woman, who had fought for xico's liberation all her life, always battling against drugs.
Essentially, it was a final judgnt, and although she had made mistakes with people, Victor had given her a dignified send-off.
And it was very solemn.
Over twenty thousand people ca to pay their respects.
At xican funerals, people even danced to express their reminiscence and respect for Camila Sodi.
During the funeral, Victor also made a speech.
"Ladies and gentlen, Camila Sodi sacrificed herself for the drug prohibition cause, her achievents will live on forever!"
"We also express our sighs and indignation at her passing. Led by Mossad, those who oppose our drug prohibition are destroying the peace we've worked so hard to achieve. We will retaliate indefinitely against the related individuals!"
"Anyone who dares to obstruct our great cause is but a paper tiger!"
Victor's arm still bore the scarf that only family mbers wore, his eyes red as he raised his hand and shouted.
The crowd below also raised their hands.
"Vengeance! Vengeance! Vengeance!"
Nicholas Maro Moro, the Venezuelan representative who ca to the funeral, was also cheering below.
He was the only one from the delegation who ca.
Victor did not compel others.
The other delegates didn't want to get involved with Mossad; although they were United Nations officials, to a certain extent, they still represented their own countries.
Nicholas Maro Moro didn't care.
He's my idol!
Looking up at Victor, who was calling for vengeance.
A surge of ambition and conviction suddenly rose in his heart.
Great n should be like this!
I will also eradicate drug traffickers in Venezuela, bring down the capitalist lackeys, and defeat the Yanks!
Victory will always belong to the just.
His cheers grew louder below.
Amid the atmosphere, Victor, Casare, Jason Bourne, and Colonel Zolf Sherman, head of the Airborne Police, carried the coffin onto the car, which would take a tour around Tijuana.
It was almost like a state funeral.
Apart from giving face to Casare, Victor also had one thing in mind, to stir up discontent against "Mossad" at ho using this grand funeral!
And of course, such a grand funeral wouldn't lack so peeking Rats; they stood in the distance, looking down from a high vantage point.
On a tower far from the square, a Gunman was holding a sniper rifle, aiming.
The direct distance was already over 1 kiloter!
Through the scope, one could see the crowds converging.
Bang!
The iron door behind was slamd open, and seven or eight police officers rushed up.
"It's him, it's him, I saw him eat lunch in my restaurant and then co up here, he never went down, there's definitely sothing wrong!" a sowhat short dwarf shouted from behind, waving a pan.
The Sniper was shocked and, bang bang, was hit by two bullets, falling into a pool of blood and then pinned to the ground by police.
The dwarf went up and hit the sniper's face with a pan.
"Dammit, you were planning to assassinate His Excellency Victor. I'll beat you to death! Beat you to death!" he cursed, teeth clenched.
Dwarfs like him used to receive subsidies from the xican Governnt, but where did that money go? Definitely into Commissioner Smith's pockets.
But when Victor ca to power, he didn't ignore such disabilities. A monthly subsidy of 2000 Pesos, equivalent to 105 US Dollars. It might not seem like much, but for many disabled families, this was a lifeline.
Therefore, Victor's foundation in the Northern region was unshakeable.
Engulf them in the people's oceanic warfare.
Not all xicans were criminals; many were very satisfied with the current life.
So much so that so cities in the Southern region even referred to Tijuana as "Victor's lackeys!"
The Governor's Mansion also intentionally guided this, plus spies who were discovered and reported could earn at least 200,000 Pesos. This even gave rise to a new industry in the streets and alleys.
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