"Okay, now we know the killer has his own car, but that doesn't help us find him. I didn't see any surveillance cameras along the way, and I doubt it would be easy to find him even if we got the license plate number."
Aubrey scratched the back of his head with a grimace. Even back in Africa, he had never found handling cases so difficult. The Tanzanian police, while not very capable, were highly cooperative.
Furthermore, they had the enthusiastic locals (Old Muto and his militia) to provide protection along the way, so even dealing with small-scale local armed groups wasn't a risk.
In Mexico, it was a completely different story. Even the police, who were supposed to provide a sense of security to the public, couldn't protect themselves. They had to cover their faces while working in uniform.
If this case was truly connected to a large-scale drug cartel, it would be beyond the reach of their mere wanted criminal squad.
Concerned for the safety of their team, Jubal would immediately request an evacuation from Mexico.
Even Jack wasn't willing to confront the Mexican drug cartels in an official capacity. Not only were there too many obstacles involved, but it was also time-consuming and labor-intensive.
Planning an operation against a large-scale drug cartel could take months or even years just to gather intelligence, sometimes requiring agents to conduct years of undercover work deep within the organization.
"Don't overthink it for now. The current clues don't directly point to the murderer as a member of a drug cartel, and the major cartels operating in Tijuana are maintaining a semblance of peace, with no signs of hostilities."
Jubal tried to boost morale, but it had little effect. After all, the team had maintained a 100% clearance rate since its inception, a figure everyone secretly prided themselves on, though not explicitly advertised.
If they were to return empty-handed due to involvement with a major drug cartel, while everyone would understand, it would still be frustrating and humiliating.
"Anything you found?" Jack recalled, noticing Clay crouched before the two tire tracks, carefully observing something, occasionally sniffing a handful of sand.
Clay's expression was grave. "This car's leaking oil. Even though it's mostly evaporated, I still smell something. I'm just not sure if it's gasoline, diesel, or motor oil."
Hannah immediately piqued her interest. She squatted down beside him and sniffed a handful of sand.
Just as Jack wondered if she was about to lick it, a smug smile appeared on her face, and she confidently said, "It's biodiesel."
"You can smell that?" Jack suspiciously grasped her wrist and sniffed her fingertips. There was indeed a hint of diesel, but it was rather rancid and sour.
Biodiesel is a fuel made from the alcoholization of discarded animal and vegetable oils, commonly known as recycled gutter oil.
It's a green energy source highly touted by environmental organizations. Of course, anything associated with the word "environmental" usually comes with a high price tag.
"This is Mexico. Who would use this biodiesel in their car?" Aubrey was a little incredulous.
"Extreme environmental organizations? Maybe the murderer is also American," Hannah speculated.
People who struggle to make ends meet don't care about environmental issues. That's something wealthy people who want to spend their days on a private jet just to eat cake worry about.
"Okay, another clue. I'll have Alice check if there are any extreme environmental groups operating in Tijuana from California."
Jubal had barely finished his words when he saw Lopez and Jiejie approaching through the alley. He then asked, "Did you get anything from the bar owner?"
Jiejie sighed. "We asked the owner, the bartender, and the waitress, but there were too many tourists last night, many of them teenagers around Li and Rosie's age.
We didn't get anything except a lot of complaints and grumbling."
"I think I've seen this mark somewhere before." Lopez stared at the blood-spattered earthen wall for a long time, his finger pointing to a black graffiti that resembled a stick figure.
The wall was covered in similar graffiti, but the one he was pointing to looked newer, likely drawn with charcoal.
Everyone looked in the direction of his finger for a long time before Aubrey hesitantly asked, "Is that a gallows?"
Lopez nodded repeatedly. "Yes, that's right. That's the symbol of the Hanged Gang. It marks this place as their territory. They're a lawless bunch."
"Are they also dealing drugs? Could the bag of cocaine Lee took in the restroom be connected to the Hanged Gang?" Aubrey asked quickly.
"All the gangs here are connected to drugs in some way." Lopez wore a mask throughout. Although he was now a CBP agent, he frequently traveled between San Diego and Tijuana, appearing at various drug cartel-related crime scenes.
Although the crowd couldn't see his expression, they could still hear a hint of helplessness in his tone.
"The Hanged Gang? They don't sound like the kind of people who would kill with sickles, but maybe they're a bunch of Harley riders who advocate for the environment." Aubrey's expression suddenly relaxed, returning to his usual optimistic attitude.
Among the drug cartels active in Tijuana, none bear such a cheesy name. This meant that if the murderer was indeed a member of the Hanging Gang, they were the type the Most Wanted Squad could handle.
As expected, according to Lopez, the Hanging Gang was a motorcycle gang of around twenty members, whose leader and core members were all Latino.
While they also engaged in some drug smuggling, they primarily sold bulk drugs to meet their own needs, which could be linked to the small package of low-quality cocaine.
While there were no better suspects at the moment, since the crime occurred in Hanging Gang territory, it was reasonable to inquire with the local gang.
Even if they weren't responsible, it would be a good idea to inquire about any suspicious individuals in the area and gain some local "news."
"They're mainly active around Aquila Beach, but now's not the right time. They won't gather to start their party until after 10 p.m."
Lopez gestured invitingly, "It's still a while before dark, so how about I take you to the best restaurant in town for a meal?"
(End of this chapter)