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85% I work as a police officer in Mexico / Chapter 17: Chapter 17: New Era!

章節 17: Chapter 17: New Era!

An abandoned warehouse.

The area was cordoned off by the police, with many policemen standing around.

The Mercedes stopped outside the cordon.

Conor Velasquez got out of the car with a serious expression on his face. He immediately noticed Anna lying on the ground and a male corpse not far from her.

- Samborn," he said as he made his way through the cordon and spotted a plainclothes policeman by Anna's body.

Anyone who could come to a crime scene in plainclothes had some clout.

Patting him on the shoulder, Conor spoke up.

- You're already here.

Samborn pointed grimly at the corpse on the ground.

- Are these your men?

Conor Velasquez pressed his lips together as he looked at the disfigured body and nodded.

- 'Four shots to the stomach, three to the head. We found out who this man is. Thorsten Shipley, Anna's brother. He was killed by a blow to the head with a heavy object, resulting in a fractured skull. He was tortured before he died, and there are rope marks on his body.

- Could Anna have offended someone recently?

Conor wondered. How could a common whore in prison have such enemies?

As he pondered, there was the roar of engines. Turning his head, he saw about a dozen motorcycles rapidly surrounding the police officers outside the warehouse.

The policemen dared not move. In Mexico, shootouts with police in broad daylight are not uncommon, it all depends on the mood of the drug dealers.

- Juarez. Several of their men were killed at the warehouse door," Samborn said quietly to Conor, obviously recognizing the ringleader.

Spreading his legs and folding his arms across his chest, he called out loudly.

- Walker, what are you doing here?

To dare speak to a drug dealer in Mexico like that, you either had to be from that environment yourself or have powerful backing.

Even Camarena, despite the DEA's support, was brutally murdered. That means Samborn isn't easy.

The ringleader looked intimidating: bushy eyebrows, piercing stare. Cops didn't even dare look at him.

- Is there any place in Mexico we wouldn't dare go? - Walker roughly ripped off the tape and stepped toward Ana's body, leaned down, pursed his lips, then said to his handlers, "Check inside.

- We're taking over," Samborn frowned.

- Are you serious? - Walker grabbed him by the throat, put the gun to his forehead. - You think I won't shoot? Your stepfather's already dead. You think this is still 1978?

Samborn's mother was in charge of the red light district until she married a man, becoming his third wife when Samborn was only five years old.

The man's name was Pedro Aviles.

Although he died, his influence remained.

In Mexico, with its 1,972,550 square kilometers and hundreds of drug cartels, many leaders and high-ranking members had once worked under him.

That was a good enough reason for Samborn to live "quietly" if he remained in the shadows.

Don't think the drug dealers are afraid of him. The dead can't intimidate the living. It's just a remnant of the old "honor code".

It is ironic that the troublemakers - the drug dealers - sometimes follow the "rules" strictly.

When Colombia's Escobar was surrounded by the Cali cartel, the DEA and government troops, the Cali didn't touch Escobar's family after his death.

They signed an agreement to keep his family out of the drug trade and let them go without touching his property.

It was a gesture of respect for Escobar and a warning to other bosses: killing each other is one thing, but don't touch the family if the boss is finished.

However, the lower strata of drug dealers often had families massacred.

This "unwritten law" persisted into the 2000s until Los Zetas and the New Generation of Jalisco came along. Young people stopped following the "rules."

Conor Velasquez saw that Walker was serious and tried to calm him down:

- Calm down, let's solve the case.

Walker looked at him, then at Samborn, pushed him away and said:

- Don't get in our way. Give these cops some money, let them go for their fucking tea.

Walker's sidekick threw a wad of dollars on the ground. Seeing a high-ranking policeman humiliated like this, Samborn felt ashamed. He didn't look at the money, turned away and walked away.

Conor shook his head, looking after him. What honor could a Mexican cop have? If he picked up a gun now and fought Walker, Conor would respect him.

But it's best to stay away from people like that. Samborn, with his temper, wouldn't last long.

He'd be a fool to get close to Samborn.

And there are plenty of fools in this world. In 2017, popular Mexican blogger Juan Rosales was shot dead in a bar because he insulted a narco baron's on social media.

He was so bold that he asked the narco baron's to blow him.

In Mexico, insulting drug dealers is like playing with fire.

Conor Velasquez looked at Ana's body, shook his head, and got into his car.

Walker and his handymen entered the warehouse and saw multiple bullet holes. Every body was riddled with bullets. Averaged a dozen bullets in each one.

- Boss, found a casing," one of the men handed Walker a 9×19mm casing.

It didn't mean anything-- that kind of ammo fits a lot of guns.

- We'll take the bodies, run forensics and find out what kind of weapon was used. Find any strangers who've been here recently. Turn Mexico City upside down, but find them! - Walker angrily threw the shell casing to the floor.

...

Outside the Altiplano prison.

Dragan glanced nervously at his watch and tapped the roof of the car. He wanted drugs badly, he yawned and asked his handyman:

- Sise, you got any with you?

- Boss, you're not going to snort here, are you?

- Who cares? It's only a prison. Give it to me, don't talk.

The handyman reluctantly reached into his pocket, but noticed a man with a suitcase at the gate. - Boss, your cousin is coming.

Dragan glanced at the familiar fat face and waved at him.

Casares saw him, pulled up the black backpack on his shoulder and approached with the suitcase. - Have you been waiting long?

- No, no, sit down," Dragan stepped forward.

The handyman obligingly opened the door, smiling at Casares. He knew he was an important person now.

Kasares got into the car excitedly, happy to have someone open the car door for him for the first time.

Dragan asked impatiently:

- Where are the goods?

- Take your time," Casares said, opening the suitcase. Inside were neatly laid out AK-47 parts. - There are five AK-47s, 500 rounds of 7.62 mm ammunition, 10 grenades....

- On the phone you spoke of ten automatic rifles and ten thousand rounds of ammunition," Dragan interrupted him.

- How could I carry so much? One AK weighs 4.3 kilograms, and the ammunition is even heavier. What am I, Superman? - Casares pulled a paper from his pocket. - Here's the address. A guy named Holder has the rest of the stuff, he'll give it to you.

- Great. - Dragan reached for the suitcase, but Casares stopped him. - Money first. AK, $1,000, ammo, $1 for five, grenades, $40.

- Total...

Casares frowned, he couldn't do the math, and pulled out a calculator under the surprised looks of Dragan and his men.

- 12400 dollars. In cash. No checks.

- Why had it gotten more expensive? An AK-47 was $800.

- Russians in Afghanistan failed, prices went up. The factories raised prices. We have to make money too. Don't worry, I'm not lying to you," Casares said, noticing Dragan's displeasure.

- The money after we receive the goods.

Casares shook his head. - That won't do, it's against the rules.

Dragan frowned, he offered to split the payment, but that too was rejected. Finally, he said to the handmaiden:

- Pay up!

- You know where I live, don't worry, I'm not fooling you. We're in the gun business, we care about our reputation. Selling guns is not a one-time business. You give me the money, you get the goods. Otherwise, I'll sell it to others.

- In Mexico, guns are more valuable than virginity.

Dragan glanced at Kasare, who waited calmly without blinking. Finally, Dragan ordered his man:

- Pay up!

- Don't think you can fool me. I know where you live.

This threat was real. Conflicts among relatives were commonplace.

Even Guzman, founder of the Sinaloa cartel, had brothers who founded the Beltran Leyva cartel. They became enemies despite starting out together.

Conflicts over money led to blood.

Casares wasn't afraid, he counted the money and smiled. - If you have any clients, ask. We're a company called New Hope.

The company is registered as a seller of pork and beef.


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