Working as a police officer in Mexico

After the press conference ended.

Victor, Cuauhtémoc, and some officials from the Drug Enforcement Department had just finished taking photos together and were preparing to leave when the female journalist from the Los Angeles Times approached them.

"Mr. Victor."

She called out, waiting for him to turn around, "May I conduct an in-depth interview with you?"

Victor glanced at his watch, smiled, and said, "I'm sorry, miss, but I have to return to Baja California this afternoon, I'm afraid..."

Undeterred, the journalist took out a business card and handed it over, flipping the blonde bangs from her forehead, "Then, may I have one of your business cards?"

Victor gave her a look, noting she was wearing jeans, about 175 cm tall, with a great figure. Of course, he wasn't such a vulgar man; he saw the efforts of a young girl in the field of journalism, glancing toward Casare standing beside him.

Lacritus had said, "The eyes are the most reliable..."

Casare handed over a business card.

"Thank you! God bless you, Mr. Victor."

"God bless you too."

The journalist strode away with long steps, and Victor watched, taking the business card from Casare to look at it, raising his eyebrows.

"Belsaria Rumsfeld!"

This surname...

It's not common in the United States, but it is well-known.

"Boss, should we check out her background?" Casare suddenly asked from the side. Victor turned and saw that all-too-familiar smirk, and laughed, "Why check on an ordinary journalist?"

Definitely, this guy had taken a liking to her.

"Mr. Victor, Mr. Cuauhtémoc is waiting for you in the office," Secretary Nunez came over and said softly, hesitating a little, "The sir seems a bit unhappy."

Victor gave him a look, seeing his very sincere gaze.

Um...

A clever guy, knowing where to lean at times like this.

Victor nodded with a smile, walking towards Cuauhtémoc's office, knocked on the door, and upon entering, he saw the other man leaning against the bookshelf, looking out through the window.

"Nunez, you can leave," Cuauhtémoc spoke, and the secretary obediently closed the door behind him.

"Victor! Jonathan Aragon and six syndicate spokesmen died at home!" Cuauhtémoc turned around, frowning, staring at him, "Did you know?"

Victor spread his hands, "I knew. Today is the first day of the Drug Enforcement Department's foundation, as well as Drug Enforcement Day. We found that Mr. Jonathan Aragon and others gathered for drug use and had a substantial amount of drugs. But as to why they died, I suppose it's because they were ready to resist."

Um, your eyebrows moved, you're definitely going to draw your gun, you're surely going to shoot, so I will have to kill you first.

"Why did you not tell me?"

"I'm in charge of the Drug Enforcement Department's work, Cuauhtémoc."

"But that was Jonathan Aragon and several syndicate spokesmen!"

"So what?"

Victor laughed, "In the fight against drugs, I never care who the other person is. I've already spared Jonathan Aragon once, but he didn't cherish that chance, so unfortunately, I had to send him to meet God."

Cuauhtémoc was no fool; he knew Jonathan and the others might have collaborated with drug traffickers, but the real reason Victor got rid of them was that he found them to be in his way!

That's how the military leaders in Latin America do it.

They never talk about reason, only calibers, which are more practical.

"Jonathan was my friend for 30 years," Cuauhtémoc said after a moment of silence.

"Then you find a new one. Sir, you can live for another 60 years and make two more friends," Victor said with a smile, seeing that the other's expression was still grave, his smile slightly faded, "I won't compromise with anyone intending to obstruct the fight against drugs.

If they stand against me, they should consider learning how to keep their eyes open while sleeping and how to breathe in a toilet."

Cuauhtémoc sensed Victor's hardness once again!

He quieted down and nodded slowly, "I support your decision. I won't interfere with drug enforcement, but I hope you can tell me about people with sensitive identities."

Victor nodded, "Of course, no problem, I maintain my respect for you, Cuauhtémoc."

This made the other's face look a bit better as he took out a book that was still sealed from the desk and gave it to him, "You're returning to Baja California this afternoon, this is my gift to you."

Victor received it and was startled, "My Struggle"? But he still expressed his thanks with a smile.

After chatting dryly for two more minutes, Victor walked out of the office, casually passing the book to Casare.

"Throw this away for me."

"??" Casare was taken aback, "Boss, this book is still new."

"What's there to see in a loser's book!"

"After the drug enforcement is successful, 'The Quotations of Victor' will be the bestseller."

Casare was utterly baffled.

...

Alejandro became the Governor of Baja California, and the first document he signed was to move the capital to the more widely developed Tijuana.

And Mexicali city, Ensenada City, and Guadalupe Island will form a new "Economic Zone," with Casare Gonzalez acting as the mayor.

Victor was then in charge of all the armed forces within the state!

His authority expanded significantly.

At Rosarito Beach in Tijuana, right in front, stood the new security department building. The Drug Enforcement Department, the National Guard Corps, and other offices were all located here.

Coming and going, the place was bustling with activity.

The area within 300 meters of the entrance was designated as off-limits in order to be cautious of drug traffickers' human bombs. On the top floor, there was a helipad, with two AH-64 Apaches stationed!

Around the security department, a 6-kilometer perimeter was secured by EDM, Counter-Terrorism Mobile Unit (EDTV), and the Mexican National Emergency Squad (EDN).

Suddenly, this area became the central district of Tijuana, and the property prices soared accordingly.

And at this moment, inside an office.

Victor was smoking, listening to the reports from the officers below. He whimsically wanted to hear about the efficiency of the grassroots police stations in Tijuana and to address some issues at the same time.

"We received a total of 2,176 reports in June and resolved 2,170 cases, reaching a case resolution rate of 99%!" raved the head of the Tijuana Police Department, his saliva flying everywhere.

"How long have you been sitting in that position?" Victor suddenly asked, knitting his brows.

"3 years."

"Then why do I have a report here that shows in the past three years, a total of 7,712 people have gone missing in Tijuana, including 2,176 foreigners, and in the past June alone, another 322 people went missing? Their families have all filed reports. Have you resolved these?"

Victor threw the intelligence file in front of him, his face darkening, "Starting today, you can roll back home. TMD! Even tying up a dog would be better than your efficiency."

He banged on the desk, stood up, "All of you retire, make way for others."

That was his aim.

He planned to fill positions with some meritorious but injured officers who could no longer withstand intense training, making sure that from the top down, all were his people.

The heads of the lower police stations glanced at each other, opened their mouths to speak, but, alarmed by Victor's icy stare, shuddered in fear.

They retired on the spot.

As they bowed their heads and walked out, a group of young officers happened to pass by.

"Psht! Victor… is he planning to use these kids? Do they even know how to handle cases?" exclaimed the chief of Tijuana 12th District, indignant, "I've worked in the force for 20 years, and he just tells me to retire…"

"Keep your voice down, or maybe you won't need to retire, and you can just reincarnate," interrupted the chief of the neighboring 13th District.

The former choked up immediately, like a chicken caught by its neck.

"Mr. Lucas, what should we do?"

All eyes turned to the head of the Tijuana Police Department, who furrowed his brow and looked at them, "What should we do? What else do you think to do? I'm 56, I'm already satisfied that I can retire, especially with Victor taking charge. You know his temper. He didn't have time to manage before, but now that he's handling police affairs, he won't let go.

If he allows us to retire with dignity, we need to obey."

With that, he walked away.

The other district chiefs looked at each other, some discontented, but what could they do? Baja California was under Victor's absolute rule!

They could only sigh and walk away.

Inside the conference room.

Victor looked at the officers in front of him, "Many of you have followed me for a long time, and of course, some of you are new."

He spoke, nodding toward Svet and his childhood friend, Piet.

They were not originally on the promotion list, but thanks to Kennedy's recommendation and the capture of Armando, the members of the "Fishermen's Association" squadron all got promoted.

Svet and Piet were thrilled, looking at Victor. When they learned that they would become heads of district police stations, they had barely slept for two whole nights!

"I have only one request now, crack down hard on other criminal organizations in Tijuana. Do you know what the United States calls our city now?"

"Fecal! (Shit!)"

"This displeases me, don't I deserve some face?"

"The local gangs are rude. Before I came, they maintained the same style, and now that I'm here and they still don't lie low, it would mean I've come here for nothing. Fight! Hit them hard whenever they stick their heads out!"

"Especially in the 12th and 11th Districts, they have the highest number of junkies, thieves, refugees, and illegal immigrants. Apart from greeting the local gangs, you also have to get them registered. It's a daunting task, who's taking it on."

"Chief, I'll take the 11th District!" volunteered an EDM veteran, raising his hand, his face scarred, one eye strangely blind.

"Chief, leave the 12th District to me," Svet also raised his hand.

"Alright, I'll entrust these two areas to you. I'll send the Mexican National Emergency Squad (EDN) to assist you. My only requirement is for the locals to show some manners!"

"Yes, sir!"

Everyone stood up and shouted.

What was Victor's status? He couldn't possibly negotiate with gangs, that would be demeaning. Have you ever seen a president dealing with bandits?

He would let his subordinates handle it.

After the tasks were distributed, a crowd emerged from the meeting room.

Piet, excited, tugged Svet's sleeve, "Buddy, what's your plan? I can't wait to flex my muscles."

"What's my plan? Sweep through. We have the people and the guns; why play it low-key? Tonight, get the boys together, I'll request three EDN squads, bring the rocket launchers and flamethrowers, and let's go clean up the filth!"

Svet's eyes sparkled with determination. Experience new stories on empire

He had long been dissatisfied with the local security.

Tijuana, with a permanent population exceeding three million, had bred its fair share of filth. Now that the boss wanted a cleanup, then so be it.

Before you invite guests to dinner, you've got to clean your house first.

Drug traffickers are Mexico's cancer.

And those gangs are like lesions on the edge of the tumor.

You can't ignore them; otherwise, they enjoy overstepping their bounds.