The brawl involving hundreds of people was intense, fought with brutal ferocity!
Police below kept blowing their whistles, striking the fighting crowd with their batons.
Victor's portrait on the ground was trampled everywhere.
The entire scene was chaotic.
Screams, wails, and crying filled the air.
Upstairs at city hall, Victor and Alejandro watched quietly.
"Shouldn't we go down and stop it, boss?" Casare asked softly beside him.
"The police are maintaining order. Why stop it?"
Victor held a cigarette in his mouth, pointing at the supporters below. "Today they can support you like this. If someday you don't meet their expectations, they can oppose you too. You have to make them understand that even cheering requires my permission!"
"Call them an ambulance."
Casare nodded repeatedly and trotted away.
"Leave me a deputy director position in the Baja California Security Department." Victor said, gazing into the distance.
Alejandro was confused. "The personnel for the security department have been arranged."
"Then fire one!"
Victor looked at him. "Why keep deadweight? Here in Baja California, only you and I have the final say. Others? Let them go somewhere else."
He wasn't satisfied with EDM having only 80 people. He had to climb higher. With higher positions, he could control more people.
Right now there were only about 300 people on the island. Although there were thousands in the training camp, Victor felt very insecure.
Mexican drug dealers were too dangerous!
Benjamin: ????
Sometimes Victor's toughness was even too much for Alejandro, but he had a softer personality. Most importantly, he was afraid Victor might beat him too.
He could only nod with a bitter face. "I'll try to find a way."
"Don't be so dejected. We eliminated the Tijuana drug cartel. You need to ask the lords in Mexico City for some benefits. If they refuse, criticize their policies on television, make the public doubt their anti-drug enthusiasm. You need to boldly learn to use the media."
"Know how to curse people?"
"Want me to teach you a few lines?"
Victor patted his shoulder. "Only people with personality can be remembered by the public, Alejandro."
Look at the many countries after the millennium - they all produced oddballs.
Someone who shit their pants could become a leader. If not for their family's firepower, people would have laughed them to death long ago.
"Smile, don't look so miserable."
Alejandro forced out a smile.
"That murderer in Mexico's National Palace can sit there, why can't you, buddy? Listen to me, before long, you'll need to think about what position you should sit in."
Victor straightened his suit and patted his shoulder. "We can't be satisfied with the present. Build up Ensenada well, and we'll be invincible. I'm planning to invest in several factories here. Want to buy in? Bring the mayor and other people you think are valuable."
You couldn't just rely on firepower to threaten people.
Interests were the best bond.
Firepower was just to make these greedy people sit down and talk properly.
"You're opening factories??" Alejandro looked dazed, hesitating. "Victor, you can't turn drug dealers into soap."
"???"
Victor actually laughed. "Buddy, what joke are you making? Ensenada and Guadalupe Island are natural ports. We can export fish, handicrafts, even industrial products. Those protesters were right - we need to provide them jobs. You don't want the whole city filled with prostitutes, homeless people, and thieves, do you?"
"In the political system, if you're not sitting at the table, then you'll appear on the menu."
"We need development!"
Mexico actually wasn't poor.
Besides avocados, they had many things. Vegetables had been a major export for ten consecutive years. Auto parts were exported as far as Southeast Asia. The 1989 GDP was $221.403 billion.
But most importantly - where was this money?
Clap hands - gone.
Put a dog to guard the national treasury, and it would bark when people came to take money. But put a Mexican bureaucrat there, and he'd stuff more money in his underwear.
The longest time, they could delay civil servant salaries for over three months.
If not for the "pocket money" from local drug dealers, it might have completely collapsed.
Latin American countries were always so full of magical realism.
Alejandro suddenly felt Victor was a leader with "ideals and aspirations," at least mentally more normal.
"Leave this to me. I'll have city hall provide the best benefits." He agreed.
He also wanted to develop Ensenada into Mexico's major port city.
Could collect so much in taxes...
No, that was called maintaining stability and eliminating drug dealers.
"Knock knock knock~"
After knocking, a female secretary in high heels walked in. Her quality was much higher than those on Guadalupe Island. Victor liked this type - plenty of milk.
"Boss!"
Casare suddenly rushed in from outside, his expression grave. Seeing the woman, he frowned and leaned to Victor's ear. "The Gulf Cartel announced they're taking over Tijuana drug cartel territory."
"Oh?"
Victor's eyebrow twitched. He pinched his cigarette and blew out smoke. "That dog Abrego has quite a keen sense of smell."
"Did other organizations agree?"
Casare shook his head. "Sinaloa and Juárez don't agree. All three had large-scale conflicts in Mexicali. Local military police are suppressing it."
"Governor Rafael Marx has a headache now." Victor was gloating.
"Should we send people over?"
"Whoever goes into that quagmire dies. This isn't an island. Our few people wouldn't even be enough to fill their teeth gaps."
Offensive and defensive battles were completely different.
Wait until they beat each other's brains out, then promote the scene under "Victor's rule."
By then, many people would definitely hope he'd "liberate" all of Baja California.
That's when hearts would turn toward him, when the people would unite behind him!
Most importantly, there weren't enough people now, insufficient funds, not fierce enough firepower.
He glanced at his points.
29,800,000!
No, still too little. Should he have Harris blow up the third block of the highland prison?
After all...
Those old drug dealers were useless anyway!
The useful ones were in the first and second blocks - they operated sewing machines.
Casare stood beside him, somehow feeling chilly for no reason.
"But issue a statement warning all three parties not to harm innocent residents, or we'll retaliate against such behavior!"
...
Mexicali, capital of Baja California.
This relatively wealthy Mexican city was now suffering catastrophe.
Gunfights everywhere.
Armed drug dealers wearing masks randomly shot at fleeing pedestrians.
Some local gang members were looting everywhere, causing riots.
The military police stationed here were beaten into retreat. Many knelt to surrender but were still killed by drug dealers.
Governor Rafael Marx hid in panic in his office bathroom, hearing gunfire outside, the old man's hands trembling.
Bang!
A loud sound - the office door was kicked down. Then chaotic footsteps walked in. Rafael Marx nervously gripped the small pistol in his hands.
Hearing the sound of drawers being ransacked outside, he held his breath with effort.
But...
Being old after all, his foot slipped and he sat directly on the toilet, making a sound.
"Oh no!"
Rafael Marx's eyes widened. The person at the door strafed the bathroom, emptying all the bullets.
The governor died...
The bathroom door opened, revealing two masked thugs holding AK47s. One saw the gold watch on Rafael Marx's wrist, his eyes flashing. He went up to strip it off, then pried out his gold teeth.
"Quick! Quick, let's go, police are coming."
"Don't rush, let me look again. Why panic? I knew these big officials had money."
The two finally even took his leather shoes.
How tragic - a governor actually died in his own office!
(End of Chapter)
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