On the rugged mountain road.
A convoy of a dozen vehicles was driving, winding along the mountain.
The windows were open, and a comfortable breeze blew through.
Victor, with a cigarette in his mouth, stretched out his hand and, looking at Casare beside him, said with a smile,
"Politics is a bunch of people dividing interests at a table, violence is flipping the table over! Violence is never loyal to politics."
"Do you know why I'm seeking Cuauhtémoc?"
Casare shook his head.
"If I can't beat them, I play politics, but if I can... I make them 'speak the caliber'!"
Victor took a casual draw on his cigarette, then snuffed it out on the car door and threw it away carelessly.
Brother, don't bring any sources of fire up the mountain!
Set a fire, and you'll be seated in prison for life.
"We still don't have the strength to strike against all the Mexican drug traffickers across the territory, Carlos won't allow it, those high officials in Mexico City won't allow it, and even..." Victor paused, "The CIA won't allow it."
"Whenever we want to destroy all the drug traffickers, the CIA, who have already taken bribes from them, will absolutely not sit by and do nothing. Maybe, by then, what we're facing on the battlefield won't be the advisory team but U.S. Military soldiers coming down from the front lines."
The CIA is not just a simple intelligence agency.
Why did the United States invade Panama?
Although nicknamed "pineapple face," Noriega waved the "anti-American" flag, but this guy had been with the CIA for decades. After returning from the United States in 1968, he immediately launched a military coup with his superior and friend Torrijos, establishing Panama's military government, which ruled for over 20 years.
Then...
Seeing big drug trafficker Pablo Escobar earning billions a year made him envious. So, Noriega connected with the Medellin gang, agreeing to help them establish a drug trafficking route, disguising drugs as cargo to pass through Panama and head directly to the United States, which was far more efficient than smuggling drugs on small planes or by body.
Of course, Noriega's cut was substantial, but the Colombians, adhering to the "small profits, quick turnover" principle, worked happily with him, and Noriega earned tens of millions of US dollars a year from this business.
And it doesn't take a genius to figure out what role the CIA played in all of this.
Actually, the most, most, most important thing is...
Quite a few high-ranking U.S. officials have come out of the CIA, all with connections.
To Victor, they were a massive presence.
He sighed, took a piece of chocolate out of his pocket, put it in his mouth, and said, "So, we need to find allies in the United States for ourselves. The DEA is quite good; at the very least, we share the same ideals."
And, they have a grudge against the CIA.
Sometimes making enemies is simple. You fight drugs, the CIA traffics drugs, that's the feud. Many seemingly unrelated institutions can even become allies.
"Apprehend Quintero as soon as possible."
Unable to defeat them...
What can be done? The only choice is to join them. Later, with the help of the DEA, press the CIA to the ground and beat them.
Victor wasn't worried that they wouldn't make good use of him.
A student raised his hand, and the teacher called on him.
"Drugs can make a person lose their reason, sap their spirit, and cause illness," said the student.
The teacher smiled and nodded, "Anything else?"
Ainival, the little boy who had greeted Victor, stood up. He looked much smaller than his peers. "Drugs can take away my mommy and daddy."
The innocence of a child's words, they didn't even understand what loss meant, but he knew he wouldn't see them again.
His words silenced the adults.
The teacher at the podium forced a smile, walked over, patted his head, and said with difficulty, "Your parents have gone to heaven."
"Heaven? Teacher, there aren't any drugs there, right?" Ainival asked innocently.
"No, no, it's very beautiful there."
Victor just looked on, then turned away, his heart heavy.
All those involved in drug trafficking, whether they transport, produce, or sell, they all damn well deserve to die!
And those who sympathize with drug traffickers.
Wipe them out!
The world would be so much clearer.
...
Journalist Leanna Lazaro Cortes sat in the chair, trembling in fear.
Two men stood beside her, handing her a phone and a sheet of paper filled with densely packed words.
"Call Quintero, and say what's written here."
"I believe Miss Journalist promised to cooperate with us and wouldn't break her word, right?"
Leanna, shaking, took the paper and scanned it. It was full of phrases designed to turn men on.
Many were even explicit invitations to bed.
No man could resist such a lure.
You tell a man there's a concert, and he might not go, but the moment you say your period stopped, he'll drive hundreds of miles overnight to be with you.
"And the 20 million US dollars that Mr. Vick promised me, will I get that too?" Leanna suddenly raised her head and asked.
The two "reporters" from the "Mexico International News Department" looked at each other and both nodded, "Of course! Victor never breaks his word!"
Leanna nodded, took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialed.
Once connected...
She quickly swapped to a smile on her face, and it seemed as if her fear had disappeared as she cooed.
"Papá! (Daddy)"
...