In the office at the National Palace, cigar smoke surged in the morning light, and Victor's brow was furrowed, Rodriguez's name had been marked with three red slashes.
Casare's beer belly hit the edge of the desk with a dull thud, he paced back and forth pulling his hair, the curse words from his mouth exploding like a barrage.
"Fuck Khun Sa!" Casare kicked over the metal trash can, cans and cigarette butts rolled all over the floor, "The six bodies aren't even cold yet!"
He suddenly turned around, his eyes red as if they were about to bleed, "Boss, launch the missiles! Turn the Mekong River banks to scorched earth! I request deploying the missile brigade, three units of incendiary bombs, ensuring those bastards don't even have bone fragments left!"
Victor slowly raised his head, ash falling on the button of his army-green shirt.
