Working as a police officer in Mexico

The night in Haiti.

It's very beautiful…

Standing next to Port-au-Prince and looking out at the distant sea, it has a special flavor.

It's just that…

The gunshots in the city ruined this beauty!

Inside the National Palace.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!!!”

Arturo Decena got up from the bed angrily, his face twisted. Damn it, the locals have no professional ethics or quality.

You don’t sleep at night, you play with fire?

His whole person "aged" in a very rapid manner.

He came to Haiti thinking he was here to help the poor and make a fortune with everyone, but the local gangs didn't give a damn about him. Los Zetas were in gun battles every day, plus Mexican warships and Cuban warships would occasionally come to the door for a stroll.

It made him neurasthenic, and he couldn't sleep even with sleeping pills at night.

Knock knock knock.

The knock on the door suddenly rang, and Arturo Decena turned his head sharply, "Who!"

“Boss, it's me, Armando (appeared in Chapter 297).”

“Come in.”

The door opened, and a burly man walked in, weighing at least 250 pounds. This is a celebrity.

Nickname: “Cow!”

It describes his sagging breasts.

He is the second-in-command of the new generation of Jalisco, El Mencho's "good brother". When Ludwig Beck caught him, he ran faster than anyone else.

Beck is now a division commander with tens of thousands of people because of this credit.

He originally went to Colombia, but he really missed Mexico too much and came back. Then he used his reputation to help Arturo Decena stabilize the situation.

It can be said…

He is a professional when it comes to being a traitor.

“What's the matter?”

Jose Armando's expression was a little ugly, "Ye Zhenli announced that all drugs will be increased by 20% in price."

Arturo Decena was stunned, and then cursed in exasperation.

He lost a large area of land in Mexico, which meant he lost the plantation. He could only rely on channels to earn money as a middleman, but the channels in Europe and the United States were still being constantly squeezed by local gangs. The money he received every day was less than one-thirtieth of what he made in Mexico!

If this continues…

What will the brothers eat? What will they drink? The most important thing is that the prostitutes in Port-au-Prince are really bad. Many of the "Los Zetas" who were bought with money are already voicing their dissatisfaction.

Arturo Decena was very scared. He was afraid of being overthrown.

At this time, that villain Ye Zhenli even raised the price!

“The Chinese have no professional ethics at all!”

Arturo Decena could only angrily drop this sentence, put his hands on his hips, walked back and forth, frowned, and his steps were a little anxious.

Suddenly, he stopped, gritted his teeth, "Promise the French, don't they want the mine? Give it all to them and let them transfer the money to the account."

Jose Armando took a deep breath, feeling a little helpless.

“You go and talk to them, but remember, autonomy…” Arturo Decena hadn't finished speaking when he heard a loud bang. The ground shook. The two looked at each other and ran to the window in a hurry. In the distance… billowing smoke!

This wasn't the end. Another explosion turned the night into daylight.

“That… that seems to be the American embassy.”

Jose Armando's pupils shrank and said.

Arturo Decena suddenly shuddered. The phone on the table rang suddenly. He rushed over and picked it up, "Hello!"

“Boss, two Mexican warships suddenly opened fire on us. One fell into the French consulate, and one… blew up the American embassy.”

!!!!!

“They're landing! They're preparing to land…!!” The subordinate on the other side suddenly shouted, followed by continuous gunshots, and the phone also showed a busy tone.

Arturo Decena's mind went blank.

The Mexicans…

They want my life.

Run!

“Prepare the plane, go to Colombia, go to the United States…” He was a little flustered in his mouth, and didn't know what he was saying.

Jose Armando grabbed him and said urgently, "Boss, don't run, don't run. If we run, we will really have nothing. This is an invasion, yes, Mexico is an invasion, and they bombed the US and French embassies. They have to give an explanation. The situation has not reached the point of collapse."

There is some truth in this.

Run, where can you run to?

Arturo Decena is listed as Red Heart 7 on Mexico's "Poker Wanted List" with a reward of 21 million pesos.

You can get the money by taking his head.

They will definitely not let you go to get a certificate.

“Okay, okay, I'll call, I'll call the French right away to condemn this behavior!”

Jose Armando looked at the flustered Arturo and knew that his ambition had been destroyed by Victor.

Alas~

Damn Victor.

……

The bombing of Port-au-Prince, Haiti, killed the American ambassador and the French ambassador.

This is no small matter.

They wanted to urgently summon the Mexican ambassador, but when they looked, hey, we haven't established diplomatic relations yet.

During the Mexican-American War, Victor withdrew all European and pro-American ambassadors because he was too lazy to listen to their nagging.

There was no way, so they filed a complaint with the United Nations.

Sir, he hit me… us!

It gave Mr. Boutros Ghali a headache, but he had to call an emergency meeting the next day.

Joachim von Ribbentrop sat there, half-仰着 his head, leaning back, and listened to the Frenchman standing up opposite him: "This is war, Secretary-General, this is an invasion, it is a contempt for Paris, we demand that Mexico be held responsible!"

“You are a murderer!” He shouted at the Mexican.

The American representative sitting next to him was also very angry. Since ancient times, only we have bombed others, how can others bomb us. He glared at him, "Joachim, what does Victor want to do, what does Mexico City want to do, do you want to continue to provoke war?"

The henchmen behind him were also shouting.

“Quiet.” Boutros Ghali tapped the table and turned to look at Joachim von Ribbentrop with a helpless look. In the past, the Soviet Union and the United States could quarrel at the meeting, but at least they were calm. Mexico was a small transparent country, but now that the Soviet Union is dead, Victor is here…

He had to admit that that man had injected a spirit of challenging authority into a lifeless country.

“We can explain, sir.”

Joachim von Ribbentrop looked calmly at his deputy, Arthur Zimmermann, who handed him a small test tube from his briefcase. He picked it up, shook it gently, looked at Boutros Ghali, and said solemnly, “Sir, our intelligence shows that drug traffickers led by Arturo Decena are attempting to create weapons of mass destruction, and these weapons are provided by the French.”

Stunned.

“You are talking nonsense! This is slander!” The Frenchman slammed the table and stood up shouting.

Joachim von Ribbentrop certainly knew that he was talking nonsense, but how could Haiti let the French infiltrate?

The intelligence agency had long been aware of the French desire to join forces with Arturo Dessena. Regardless of their intentions—whether to threaten the United States or to profit from the chaos—the Mexico-German alliance would certainly not allow it.

That was the first line of defense in the "blockade of America." How could I possibly give the opening to outsiders?

Especially to a 'Plain White Banner' France. Who knows when they might be subverted, turning their missiles towards Cuba and Mexico? Absolutely not allowed.

So, an excuse was needed.

Joachim von Ribbentrop pondered all night, and then his deputy, Arthur Zimmermann, said, "Regardless of whether they believe it, we believe it."

And so, this dramatic scene unfolded. At its core… it was all about the washing powder.

"We have direct evidence that when the Soviet Union dissolved, a large portion of weapons of mass destruction materials were transported to Haiti via France. What are you trying to do? Are you trying to use force to threaten Latin America? Do you want to incite war in the peaceful Latin American region?!"

Joachim von Ribbentrop slammed his hand on the table and stood up. "This behavior severely undermines peace and violates the X-Weapon Proliferation Treaty. We absolutely will not allow this to happen."

His words were utterly confident and righteous.

Secretary-General Boutros Ghali and many nations fell silent.

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You're talking about treaties now? You should know that you've also violated them…

However, these things are just scraps of paper. When I don't have them, you can restrict me. When I do have them, they're used to restrict others.

The American representative frowned, looking at the French representative beside him with displeasure and suspicion.

What's wrong?

Are you unhappy that you recognize me as your leader?

Still dreaming of restoring 'French Glory'?

But now is not the time for infighting. He looked at Joachim von Ribbentrop, his tone harsh. "Mexico is not an enforcer and has no right to decide anything. The United States expresses strong dissatisfaction with this hegemonic behavior. Moreover, why bomb our embassy?!"

Joachim glanced at him. "Accidental bombing."

… …

A commotion immediately erupted.

"Order! Order!" the Secretary-General shouted loudly.

The American representative laughed in anger. "Our embassy is 4 kilometers away from the French embassy. You're telling us it was an accidental bombing? You're clearly lying!"

Joachim von Ribbentrop spread his hands. "Mexicans never lie."

Good heavens, they're not even bothering to pretend anymore.

They think we're easy to bully, sob sob sob…

Heartache, heartache…

Is this how they're going to act shamelessly?

The American representative clutched his chest, feeling breathless. They were saying the things we usually say!

The colleagues beside him hurriedly gathered around.

"Quick-acting heart pills, does anyone have quick-acting heart pills?"

"Doctor! Doctor!"

The Secretary-General saw that something was wrong. The other man's face had turned green, and he frantically called for a doctor. He couldn't die here.

Deputy Secretary Arthur Zimmermann looked at Joachim von Ribbentrop and quietly gave him a thumbs up. "But won't this be too much? What if Washington is dissatisfied…"

"There are many things they're dissatisfied with. They'll get used to it if they hold it in for too long. Besides, Washington? Who's in charge now? Clinton hasn't been seen for a long time."

Arthur Zimmermann nodded.

"Gentlemen, please allow me to say a word." Joachim clapped his hands again. Seeing everyone looking over, he spoke with a grave expression, "U.S. Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld was shot and killed by Clinton at the White House a week ago. General Viktor was deeply shocked upon hearing this and will hold a memorial service for him the day after tomorrow."

"Secretary of Defense Donald was a respected senior figure who was committed to peace between our two countries. We will always remember him."

"May he rest in peace."

Joachim von Ribbentrop "sadly" wiped away non-existent tears. Perhaps it was flamboyant, but politics itself is a performance. Perhaps it's clumsy, but it can't be without it.

Just like the bag of washing powder he had just taken out. Although it was a trumped-up charge, after all… it was an excuse, giving the other side a way out.

After speaking, he left with his people.

He left, waving his sleeves, taking away a wave of sound.

Silence!

Even the Secretary-General was shocked speechless.

"Then… who's in charge in Washington? ?"

Someone suddenly asked, looking around and swallowing.

"Three presidents in two years, and the fourth Secretary of Defense dead…"

The eyes of the representatives of European countries flickered, and the British eyes were shining.

Such a turbulent situation represents one thing…

Destiny is not with the United States!

The United States doesn't have much energy to interfere in the Middle East situation. Their own internal affairs are about to collapse. So, can we… get a piece of the pie?

The reason Viktor had Joachim von Ribbentrop say it in public was this.

Rise up and resist…

American hegemony is weak.

The British representative looked at Secretary-General Joachim and then left. The rabbit representative looked and also left. Gradually, more and more people left. Everyone knew that the strength of the United States was just a facade.

Secretary-General Boutros Ghali looked at the people gradually leaving the venue and suddenly felt tired.

Let it be destroyed…

Everything is damn messed up!

The content of this meeting couldn't be kept secret. After many people came out, the reporters outside also heard the news.

When they know, the world will know. It's only a matter of time.

At this time, Viktor was comforting Rumsfeld and his party. The leader was old Donald's younger brother, Philtz Rumsfeld!

He contacted the other party as soon as possible. His family couldn't contact Donald either. They called acquaintances, but there was no response. Just as they were panicking, Viktor called them, telling them that Clinton had killed Donald, and a hand covered everyone's mouths to prevent them from speaking.

For their safety, he hoped that his whole family would come to Mexico City.

Philtz Rumsfeld had long sensed that something was wrong. When he heard the news, he was still shocked, but then he decisively brought his whole family. Furthermore, they would hold a memorial service for Donald here.

The U.S. Secretary of Defense holding a memorial service in Mexico…

Just thinking about it, there's an article to be written.

"How could, how could such a thing happen?!" Bershalia's brother, Bramos, sat beside him, grabbing his hair and saying sadly.

"Clinton took drugs and changed, but none of this matters. He may already be dead."

Philtz Rumsfeld's hand trembled…

"You should understand their methods better than me, Philtz," Viktor said, looking at him.

"They will use any means. The best way may be to burn you all to death, but you are my relatives, which is one of the reasons I invited you here. In Mexico City, the CIA won't be able to get to you unless they turn into mosquitoes."

"What about Bershalia? She's still in Germany!" Bramos said nervously.

"My people have already gone to pick her up. Don't worry."

Philtz Rumsfeld nodded, looked at the calm Viktor, and exhaled. "You're looking for us, there's something else, right."

Viktor smiled. It's good to talk to smart people.

He leaned forward. "Do you want revenge?"

… …