Working as a police officer in Mexico

After being managed, the Baja California region was transformed.

Especially Tijuana, just the taxes from three quarters could possibly exceed 14 billion US dollars, and the entire state combined could exceed 17 billion US dollars—that's just from one state.

If you add Sonora State to that, plus a few other states that are about to follow, wouldn't it be easy to rake in tens of billions of US dollars a year?

Indeed, drug trafficking, arms dealing, and healthcare—these three violent industries are not as profitable as one industry, "taxation!"

Victor planned to further consolidate the infrastructure with this money.

There was even more potential to be tapped in Tijuana.

Especially the tourism industry…

Many in Mexico City had strong opinions, believing that the Northern Governor's Office had too much power. You should at least pay taxes, right?

You have so much to eat, won't you give us a bite?

Victor was very resolute, "Scram!"

If you want to eat, bring your own spoon.

A wave of taxes considerably relaxed Victor's small group.

"Sir, I'm afraid some higher-ups are hard to buy off," Mike Corleone said.

"Bureaucrats in capitalism worship money. If they don't agree, it's not that money won't do, it's just that you're not offering enough," Casare leaned closer to him, lowering his voice, "Here, whether someone likes money or not, you can tell by their breathing. As long as they're alive, US dollars, Pesos, Italian lira all work, though generally they won't take Rubles, that stuff has depreciated."

"You don't need me to teach you how to stuff money into their pockets."

Mike Corleone thought for a moment, then nodded, "I'll ensure the task is completed."

"I'll wait for your good news, Mike. When you return to Tijuana, your military rank will have to be promoted. Perhaps by then, I'll have to call you General."

Look at that!

After becoming a leader, it was only natural to learn to make promises.

General!

This title instantly excited Mike Corleone.

"Victor, long live!"

"Loyalty!" Casare also raised his hand seriously.

The 18-year-old Felix's eyes shone at this.

Boom!!

A thunderclap sounded outside the sky.

Miss Krista Schroeder, the chief secretary lying in his arms, snuggled closer to Victor's chest.

Indeed, when there's work, the secretary does it; when there's nothing, do the secretary.

The bedside lamp was on.

Victor, with a cigarette in his hand, watched the sudden downpour outside, his gaze a bit profound.

He was somewhat worried about the soldiers at the front.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, followed by Ethan Hunt's voice, "Sir."

This was his own trusted aide; he even accompanied him while he slept or had affairs, maintaining a tight lip. A knock at this hour certainly meant something was up.

Victor stood up, wrapped himself in a robe, and woke Miss Krista Schroeder in the process. Just as she was about to get up, Victor gestured, "You keep sleeping, it's nothing."

She nodded and lay back down, watching his figure as she touched her belly, not knowing what she felt, but definitely hoping she was pregnant.

If she bore a son, it would be the elder son!

She could elevate her status by virtue of her child, even vie for the position of the crown prince.

Then wouldn't she be the Empress Dowager?

This trick, used since ancient times and still in circulation everywhere today.

The outside world also favors sons over daughters!

Victor stepped out of the room, only to see Jason Bourne standing at the door with a grave expression.

"Sir! Iraq has declared war on Mexico?!"

Victor almost choked on his cigarette, "What?"

"An hour ago, Saddam announced on television that Mexico is an enemy country, and that unless they expel or imprison you, the declaration of war stands!"

So bold, are you?

You're in Western Asia... I'm in North America.

You're declaring war on me?

What did I do to you?

Is it just because I hit your son? Turned your eldest son's head into a pig's, and for that you declare war? That's too capricious, isn't it?

But then again, Saddam, who is so obsessed with face, wouldn't be happy about this. He has a violent temper, someone who would attack his creditor just to avoid repaying a debt, and you—this Mexico—haven't even heard of it.

That darling son of his, truly the apple of his eye.

He let him get away with everything but to no avail.

If Victor had a descendant like Uday, he would've just shot a bullet into a wall from the start.

"If they declare war, let them declare war, what's there to be surprised about? Could they really fly thousands of kilometers to hit us?"

"This gives us the opportunity to get involved in the war in Kuwait," Jason Bourne said softly.

At that, Victor's eyes immediately lit up as if that was the point indeed!
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He had always been thinking about how to raise Mexico's international profile, and now they'd handed him the opportunity; winning seemed certain with his godfather on his side.

As long as he didn't encounter one of those few on this planet, with this combination, beating Iraq seemed simple, right?

"Have it announced that Iraq is also to be listed as an unwelcome country, expel all Iraqi people!"

"Get Mr. Cuauhtémoc to sign off on it, just for formality," Victor said.

Mexico City had become a mere stamping machine.

"Then officially request from Mexico to join the coalition against Iraq."

"Understood," Ethan replied, noting down the instructions to forward them to the secretarial office later.

Just as Victor was about to return to his room to make a phone call, the other man called out.

"What now? Is there something else?"

"Sir, the Northern part of Culiacán, the capital of Sinaloa, has been breached by one of Rommel's platoons!"

"He's requesting backup!"

"So fast!" Victor was genuinely surprised; a platoon had boldly penetrated deep behind enemy lines directly attacking the capital, even securing a foothold.

Such a military genius!

"Then let's seize the moment and take it down!"

"Airdrop ammunition to ensure the platoon's combat capacity."

...