Victor hadn't even finished his cigarette when Special Envoy Stephen Moyano returned, his expression showing some relief.
"The gentlemen have agreed to your demands."
"Transfer the money to the card!"
Victor gave Casare a look. The latter quickly handed over the prepared card number.
Stephen Moyano's eye twitched as he took the card number, frowning. "Don't you trust us?"
Victor smiled. "I like having money in hand."
He simply didn't trust the integrity of Mexican bureaucrats.
A country's credibility being distrusted by its own police was quite remarkable. Stephen Moyano had no choice but to go make another call.
Just then, Victor heard Stephen Moyano's voice from the doorway. "Sir! What if he really takes people to Mexico City to demand money?"
Victor was stunned. He glanced at Alejandro and smiled. "Is he talking about me?"
"I think those gentlemen are planning to trick you into going first, then renege on the debt if possible. They've done plenty of these dirty tricks."
Victor nodded and walked out the door, seeing Stephen Moyano was clearly agitated. He grabbed the phone from him. "Hello, gentlemen, do you not want to give money?"
The other side fell silent, then spoke in a very unhappy tone. "Victor?"
"Yes, sir. When can the money arrive?"
"You're a police officer. You need to understand you must follow orders..."
Victor sneered. "Say that again and I'll add fees, sir. Keep your bullshit for others. I just want to ask - when will my money arrive! No money, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Either give money or I'll beat your balls out."
"I'll ask one more time - are you giving money or not!"
Victor could hear the breathing on the other end getting heavier. "Yes!"
This domineering style was exactly like a warlord.
Even African warlords weren't like this.
He laughed and handed the phone back to Stephen Moyano. "See, that's settled. Tell him to transfer the money quickly, or my armored vehicles won't have fuel."
The envoy quickly said a few words on the phone, then looked at him strangely. "Do you know who that was just now?"
"Nobody can owe me money!"
"Either give money or get lost."
When Victor returned to the office, Casare immediately said, "The money's been transferred."
See, bastards just need scolding.
The transfer speed was quite fast.
Victor was impatient too. Pay up and you're the boss.
Everything's negotiable.
"I'm taking 500 people from the Violent Terrorism Mobile Team (EDTV), leaving 100 from Guadalupe Island Police, and taking the rest. Security here is in your hands." Victor looked at Alejandro.
The latter nodded, his expression becoming serious. "Don't worry with me here!"
"Casare, advance dispersed. Arrive at Mexicali precisely at 9 PM!"
Casare checked his watch - it was already five o'clock. These four hours were completely testing the force's assembly capability.
Marles Training Camp.
Located 20 kilometers in the suburbs of Ensenada.
Beep beep beep~
Emergency whistle sounded.
EDTV members who were training and resting quickly grabbed their equipment.
Uniform deep black combat uniforms, with the Mexican national emblem on the left chest, and on the right their motto: "Fearless sacrifice, defend homeland!"
Victor wasn't stingy with this force. Although it couldn't compare to his direct troops, at least it wasn't weak.
Individual equipment: Steyr MPi69 submachine gun, 3 basic loads of ammunition.
They hadn't trained long - you couldn't expect them to use sniper rifles. Just raise the gun and sweep. As long as you fire faster than drug dealers, you survive.
This gun was enough for fighting drug dealers.
Anyway, fire support was provided by "Guadalupe Island" Police Department.
The EDM officer in charge of training stood on the platform looking at everyone below and waved. "Board vehicles!"
Hundreds of people uniformly boarded troop carriers.
Minutes later, two BTR-80 armored personnel carriers led the way, with police sirens mounted.
Echoing continuously across the entire road surface.
...
Six PM, still a bit of daylight.
A convoy of about 50 vehicles drove on the Mexican national highway.
The vehicles read: Guadalupe Island Police Department.
This was driving openly and honestly!
Afraid of drug dealer attacks? Not a thing!
To prevent armored vehicles from being blown up by RPGs, they installed reactive armor, with each vehicle spaced over 10 meters apart, ensuring time to return fire!
Leading at the front were three Humvees.
Giancarlo Prada sat nervously in the vehicle, gripping his gun tightly, wearing his bulletproof vest meticulously.
"Hey, rookie!" The EDM member in the front passenger seat tossed him a can of Red Bull, seeing his flustered appearance in the rearview mirror, and smiled. "Don't be nervous."
Giancarlo Prada had just graduated from Marles Training Camp with first place and joined "Guadalupe Island Police," and because of outstanding physical fitness, directly joined the EDM reserve team.
Hearing the captain's words, he nodded.
"Traffic jam?" The driver suddenly spoke. Giancarlo looked ahead and indeed, the tunnel entrance was completely blocked with cars.
Couldn't see the end.
"Szzz~" The radio on the dashboard crackled twice. "What's going on? Tank, what's happening ahead?"
The captain in the passenger seat picked up the radio. "Traffic jam."
"Stay alert."
"Roger!"
"This'll take at least half an hour." The driver muttered.
Captain nicknamed "Tank" casually glanced with his peripheral vision, suddenly noticing several men sitting in a red sedan diagonally across, with tattoos on their arms, chewing something, eyes staring hard in this direction.
And on the right side in a garbage truck, the driver wearing a cap also seemed off, one hand below, as if gripping something. It couldn't be XX, right?
"Watch the red sedan to the left front and the garbage truck behind." The captain shouted, pulling the bolt.
"Rookie" Giancarlo quickly tossed the Red Bull behind his butt, nervous until his palms sweated.
"Tank" reported the situation to command.
"I authorize you to dismount and return fire."
"Roger!"
The captain glanced at Giancarlo. "You stay in the vehicle. Everyone else, if they make a move, get out!"
Inside the red sedan, the tattooed man in the passenger seat gripped a pistol in his left hand, while the person in back had a Cetme Ameli machine gun beside them, magazine on top, like a crooked machine gun.
The tattooed man hooked the door lock with his right hand, about to push the door open.
"Get out!" The captain shouted. Seven or eight people got out of two Humvees, each selecting targets, raising guns. "Don't move!"
"Don't move! Hands up."
"Tank" shouted loudly. The other side slowly raised hands, but suddenly tried to charge down.
Rat-a-tat-tat...
"Fire!"
Bullets directly turned everyone in the red sedan into sieves.
Blood spurted everywhere.
"Rookie" Giancarlo in the vehicle suddenly saw someone jump onto an SUV at the distant tunnel entrance, holding... a rocket launcher??
"Captain! Watch out!!!"
Giancarlo screamed hoarsely.
Whoosh~~
The rocket launcher flew toward "Tank and others" with a trailing sound. Giancarlo felt the vehicle lurch, something hit from behind.
That 2.35-meter tall BTR-80 armored personnel carrier directly blocked the rocket with its side!
This thing...
Not only had reactive armor, but was also DIY modified. For sufficient side protection, the "Guadalupe Island Police Maintenance Department" used their imagination.
They added protective bricks to the BTR-80, 110mm thick, plus reactive armor. Although it lost firing ports, it was much more durable!
This RPG exploded on the side, the huge shockwave made the vehicle sway, displacing it over a meter, its rear bumping into other vehicles.
"Return fire! Return fire! Ram them!"
Commands came through the radio.
The BTR-80 turned around, its 14.5mm KPVT machine gun sweeping ahead.
This tunnel entrance traffic jam was completely fake.
It was a drug dealer ambush!
"Rookie" Giancarlo saw a "Sergeant York" anti-aircraft gun charge up from behind the convoy - similar to an armored vehicle but with cannons!
40mm autocannon!
This was for anti-aircraft, but couldn't it shoot targets ahead?
Boom boom boom!
Autocannon fire support shattered all the front vehicles' windows. Not satisfied, the BTR-80 revved up and rammed forward.
These drug dealers were somewhat smart, using vehicles to block the tunnel entrance, impeding their advance.
"Rat-a-tat-tat..."
Before this finished, gunfire came from the hillside, starting weak but quickly becoming rapid with increased firepower.
"NSV machine gun!!"
Victor in the command vehicle behind knew roughly what it was from the sound. Drug dealers had upgraded their weapons considerably.
Bullets hit the vehicle body - clang clang clang...
"Mole, Mole, enemy machine gun position spotted, blast them!" Kennedy took out the radio and ordered.
"Roger!" The artillery commander responded.
...
At this time, behind the hillside machine gun position.
Over a dozen drug dealers were anxiously assembling... mortars?!
American "M-224 mortar"!
"Damn, where's the manual? Doesn't this thing have a manual?" The leader was extremely anxious. They had no systematic training.
Right...
At most the black market seller taught them a few times.
But drug dealers were still somewhat flustered operating it.
A drug dealer tried putting a shell in, heard a clear rolling sound, then ejection, flying toward the convoy.
But the angle was a bit off, exploding ahead.
"Success! Success!" The drug dealers happily danced around.
Bang!
The head exploded before other drug dealers' eyes.
"Sniper! There's a sniper!"
The leader's face was covered in splattered blood. He quickly got down, shouting.
In the distance on a vehicle roof, a sniper pulled the bolt of his Steyr-Mannlicher SSG-69 sniper rifle, jumped down from the roof, and quickly changed positions.
While running, he didn't forget to press his earpiece.
"11 o'clock direction hillside, direct distance 470 meters, artillery coverage!"
(End of Chapter)
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