Working as a police officer in Mexico

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"Victor, was that your doing with the Lucchese Family?"

The voice of Pearson, the senior assistant for the FBI in North America, came through the phone. He was also the secretary to Director Floyd I. Clark.

Victor was flipping through the files handed to him by his secretary when he heard the tone of the other party, his hand paused, and he narrowed his eyes, "Mr. Pearson, you are smearing a Mexican official's reputation!"

"I thought our relationship was such that you would believe me. There's no way I could have done such a thing,"

"I swear on my parents!"

Victor's tone was very firm, "I do not advocate solving problems with violence."

Pearson, hearing the other party's conviction, frowned but felt that something was off although he couldn't put his finger on it.

Nonsense!

Victor's parents were dead.

Could they be brought back to life just to be shot again?

How disrespectful could you get?

Indeed, Pearson was so "busy" that he was dizzy. The Godfather of the Lucchese Family had died a horrendous death, and no one knew how the photo nailed next to the statue of Jesus had gotten out, but it did cause a huge uproar.

The photo was called: "The Trial of the Modern Robin Hood."

Of course, what troubled the FBI the most was public order!

NMP!

New York was in utter chaos.

All sorts of riff-raff were jumping out. The Mafia families had to find the murderer; otherwise, they would cause trouble.

This made Director Floyd I. Clark very unhappy.

Some within the FBI suspected that Victor was behind it.

But they were sorely lacking evidence.

Of course, Pearson wasn't there to wield authority but came with a tone of warning, "The clouds of war over the Persian Gulf are still thick, don't stir up trouble at this time, the White House will be very uncomfortable, and the New York mob is not obedient at all."

A flicker crossed Victor's face, "If necessary, the Governorship of Northern Mexico is willing to join the Coalition of the Willing to contribute to the liberation of Kuwait!"

This coalition currently has about 34 countries, including the usual NATO troublemakers, as well as "cheerleading squads" like Afghanistan, Bahrain, Honduras, Niger.

Sadaam 1VS34!

Victor certainly couldn't afford to miss such an opportunity to bandwagon.

"World peace needs people like you, Victor. I'll help you get your name up there." Pearson's tone softened slightly, and the urgency in his expression eased a bit. He looked at his watch, "That's it for now, and about what you mentioned last time..."

"I'm on it, you can rest assured. Uranium-238 will definitely be handed over to you."

"OK! Remember, do not cause any trouble." Pearson added a couple more words before hanging up the phone.

For Victor, those words went in one ear and out the other.

Causing trouble?

You can't even handle the New York mob, and you want to manage me?

You're too indulgent. I'll have to show you this "undutiful son" that there's no one to coddle you in the real world, you'll just get a sack over your head and a club to the body.

I don't like violence.

But I never said I don't like using it.

As long as I'm the one using it, that's fine.

"Sir, your coffee~" Miss Krista Schroeder, the chief secretary and part-time mistress, came in with a cup of hand-ground coffee, placed it on the table, stirred it gently, and then naturally walked behind Victor to start massaging his head.

With those skills, even if Victor fell from power, she could work as a masseuse.

Gradually, Miss Krista Schroeder's hand slipped inside his clothes, and it was getting R-rated.

Just as the atmosphere was getting ambiguous, there was a knock on the door, and Jason Bourne's voice came through.

Victor, with his right hand pressing down on her, smiled helplessly and said, "I need to work."

Miss Krista Schroeder smiled and nodded, "Of course~Thirty million people in Northern Mexico rest on your shoulders, but please don't overwork yourself."

After speaking, she let her rolled-up skirt fall back down, opened the door, and with a smile at a startled Jason Bourne outside, said hello, and left.

He even turned his head for a second glance, knowing by her movements that Miss Krista Schroeder was still in her panties.

"Jason." Victor called from inside.

He immediately walked in, "Sir, there's been infighting! There's been a power struggle within Sinaloa, Guzman's cousin Arturo has been killed, and now his cousin, Commander of God's Division 1st Regiment Luis Adolfo Loera, along with several other cousins, are in charge!"

"Commander of God's Division 1st Regiment Luis Adolfo Loera has made a statement acknowledging Guzman's hospitalization and presented what he claimed was Guzman's own signature, saying that he is temporarily in charge of the Sinaloa Drug Cartel."

"But many are not convinced, believing it to be a forgery. Two regiments confronting us on the front lines have suddenly withdrawn. According to our estimates, they have probably retreated to the neighboring Chihuahua State, waiting to see how things unfold."

Victor with eyes wide open, "Is the information reliable?"

"Reliable and accurate."

"Then what are we waiting for? Order Kennedy to press forward with the front troops, carry out a sweep around Culiacán, and surround the capital of Sinaloa!"

"Command the joint operations staff to go to the front line, and make sure to provide the most accurate advice on site."

"Take advantage of his sickness to take his life!"

All in!

Victor didn't believe Guzman would fake his death.

If he was bold enough to play "tricky games," planning to use his fake death to envelop himself, then he was ruthless, but after all, he was a drug trafficker. Where did he receive formal military training?

Do you think warfare is just a paper exercise?

Victor didn't micromanage; instructing machine gunners to move a meter to the side and the like, professionals had their own ways, and as a decision-maker, he just needed to present the end result; naturally, someone else would handle the rest.