Victor hadn't finished smoking his cigarette when Special Agent Stephen Moyer came back, his expression carrying a hint of relief.
"The gentlemen have agreed to your demands," he said.
"Transfer the money into the account!"
Victor signaled Casare beside him, who hurriedly handed over the prepared card number.
A flicker of irritation crossed Stephen Moyer's eyes as he took the card number, his brow furrowed. "You still don't trust us?"
Victor chuckled, "I like to have the money in hand."
He just didn't trust the integrity of the Mexican bureaucracy.
It was strange for a country's credibility to be doubted by its own police, and with no other option, Stephen Moyer had to make another call to hurry things along.
Just then, they heard Stephen Moyer's voice coming from the doorway, "Sir! What if he truly brings people to Mexico City for the money?"
Victor paused, glanced at Alejandro, and said with a smile, "Is that about me?"
"I think those gentlemen intend to trick you into going first and then try to renege on the deal if possible. They've done plenty of such despicable things."
Victor nodded, stepped outside, and saw that Stephen Moyer was visibly irritated. He snatched the mobile phone from him, "Hello, gentlemen, don't you want to pay?"
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The person on the other end of the line was quiet for a moment before speaking in a very displeased tone, "Victor?"
"Yes, sir. May I ask when the money will be transferred?"
"You're a police officer, and you need to understand that you must follow orders..."
Victor let out a derisive laugh, "Say that again, and I'll start charging extra. Mr., save your bullshit for someone else. I just want to know when my money will be in the account! If you don't pay up, are you talking about your mother?"
"Either pay up or I'll blast your grains out."
"I'll ask one more time, are you going to pay or not?"
Victor could hear the person on the other line's breathing grow heavier, "Yes!"
This brazen style was very much like that of a military leader.
Even the warlords in Africa weren't like this.
He laughed, handed the phone back to Stephen Moyer, "There, it's settled. Make them transfer the money quick, or my armored car won't have fuel."
The special agent quickly said a few words into the phone, then looked at Victor with a strange expression, "Do you know who that just was?"
"Nobody gets away with owing me money!"
"Pay up or get lost."
By the time Victor returned to the office, Casare eagerly reported, "The money's come through."
See, that's why you gotta chew them out.
The transfer was surprisingly fast.
Victor was also impatient; as long as you pay up, you're the boss.
Everything is negotiable.
"For the Counter-Terrorism Mobile Unit (EDTV), I'll take 500 men with me. I'll leave 100 for the Guadalupe Island Police and take the rest. You're in charge of public safety at these two places," Victor told Alejandro.
Alejandro nodded, his expression turning serious, "You can count on me!"
"Casare, advance separately. Arrive in Mexicali by 9 p.m. sharp!"
Casare checked his watch, it was already five, leaving them just four hours – a real test of the troops' ability to assemble.
Marles Training Camp.
Located 20 kilometers from the outskirts of Ensenada City.
Beep beep beep~
The emergency siren sounded.
The Counter-Terrorism Mobile Unit (EDTV) members in training and resting quickly grabbed their gear.
Dressed uniformly in dark black fatigues, the Mexican national emblem stitched on the left chest of their shirts and on the right, their motto: "Fearless sacrifice, guarding our homeland!"
Victor spared no expense on this unit; although they didn't match up to his own direct troops, they were nonetheless no less inferior to others.
Individual equipment: Steyr MPi69 submachine gun, 3 magazines of ammunition.
Carlos yelled hoarsely.
Whoosh~~
The rocket launcher, trailing a sound, flew towards "Tank and the others." Carlos felt the vehicle lurch, something seemed to slam into it from behind.
The towering 2.35-meter-tall BTR-80 armored personnel carrier directly used its side to block the rocket!
This thing...
Not only was it equipped with reactive armor but it had also been DIY-modified for increased lateral protection—the "Guadalcanal Police Department Maintenance Division" had let their imagination run wild.
Protective bricks were stacked onto the BTR-80 armored personnel carrier, with a thickness of up to 110mm. Combined with the reactive armor, although it lost its firing ports, it had become much more durable!
The RPG explosion on its side sent a massive shockwave that shook the vehicle, drifting it over a meter, its rear bumping into other vehicles.
"Return fire! Return fire! Ram them!" came the order over the radio to command the vehicles.
The BTR-80 armored personnel carrier rotated its front, and the 14.5mm KPVT heavy machine gun swept ahead.
The traffic jam outside the tunnel was nothing but an illusion.
It was an ambush by drug traffickers!
Rookie Carlos saw a "Sergeant York" anti-aircraft gun charging up behind the convoy—a vehicle similar to an armored car, but it was armed with a cannon!
A 40mm autocannon!
Meant for anti-air defenses, but who said it couldn't target enemies at the front?
Boom, boom, boom!
With the support of machine cannon fire, all the glass on the vehicles ahead shattered, and unsatisfied, the BTR-80 armored personnel carrier surged forward, ramming through.
The traffickers were savvy, blocking the tunnel with vehicles to impede their progress.
Rat-a-tat-tat...
The battle was far from over; gunfire erupted from the hillside. It started faint but soon turned rapid and intensified.
"NSV heavy machine gun!!"
From the command vehicle behind, Victor recognized the type of gunfire, noting the traffickers had significantly upgraded their arsenal.
Bullets struck the vehicle, clanging loudly...
"Mole, Mole, the enemy's machine gun position is found, blow them away!" Kennedy picked up the radio to give the order.
"Understood!" the artillery operator replied.
...
Behind the hill where the machine gun nest was located,
about a dozen traffickers were frantically assembling... a mortar?!
An American "M-224 mortar"!
"Damn it, where's the manual, isn't there a manual for this thing?" the leader was an anxious wreck, as they had no systematic training.
Exactly...
They had only been shown by the black market seller a few times.
Still, the traffickers fumbled with the operation.
As one trafficker tried to load a shell, a crisp rolling sound was heard, followed by a launch, the projectile flying towards the convoy.
But the angle was slightly off, exploding ahead instead.
"Success! We did it." the trafficker celebrated, dancing with joy.
Pop!
His head burst open under the watchful eyes of the other traffickers.
"Sniper! There's a sniper!"
The leader, his face splattered with blood, quickly got down and screamed at the top of his lungs.
Meanwhile, a sniper on a distant rooftop cycled the bolt of his Steyr-Mannlicher SSG 69 sniper rifle, leapt down, and quickly moved to another location, not forgetting to press his earpiece while running.
"11 o'clock direction, hillside, straight-line distance 470 meters, fire for effect!"
...