Working as a police officer in Mexico

"New Hope Company?"

Dragan watched Casare's retreating figure, turned to his underling, and asked, "Have you ever heard of this organization?"

The latter was also at a loss.

They would never have guessed that it was actually just a newly developed small group.

However, who knows how many gangs there are in Mexico. You could collect protection fees with just three or five people and a machete.

Countless gangs are established and dissolved every day.

But to be able to deal in arms, it seems this new generation of Mexicans must be capable.

He certainly wouldn't expect it to be just a few nobodies.

Dragan looked deeply at his "cousin" and thought if this gang didn't do well in the future, he might switch sides.

"Let's go, we'll pick up the goods, and sweep through two streets tonight!"

Instead of returning to the prison with the money, Casare drove to a small village called "Bergedes," about ten kilometers from Plateau Prison, located in a seldom-traveled suburban area.

This place was originally a plantation, but it was affected by the "Camarena" incident and was directly destroyed by the military. The able-bodied had gone out to "start their own businesses," leaving only the elderly behind.

As for the children...

Have you ever heard of the Mexican child daredevil squads?

Many drug trafficking organizations traffic children, stuffing goods inside their bodies by any means, and then transport them to welfare institutions in the United States.

The drug trafficking organizations have connections with these welfare institutions.

As for those children...

Maybe their organs were trafficked, maybe they escaped the ordeal and ended up as vagrants, who knows?

In 2014, FBI agents investigating an illegal body trading case discovered 10 tons of human remains at the Biological Resource Center (BRC) in Arizona!

It is said to be closely related to the "human smuggling" between the US and Mexico.

Children, living in this kind of country, is a pain.

But such places are perfect for Victor. Mexico City is too chaotic, and too far from the prison, with too many eyes all around, and if you encounter those who don't play by the rules, they'll double-cross you directly.

Will the young people who left the village ever come back?

Mexicans don't have the tradition of "celebrating Qingming."

Renting a room with a yard at the entrance to the village from the Village Head for 60 pesos was a piece of cake.

When Casare parked in front of the door, he didn't even bother to take the keys out of the ignition. There aren't many car thieves here, but in an emergency, you could just get in the car and flee.

Thump, thump-thump, thump, thump!

He knocked on the door rhythmically, and after a while, a crack appeared in the wooden door. Victor opened the door to let him in when he saw it was Casare.

"How did it go? Was the deal smooth?"

"Smooth as silk," Casare handed over the money, "I raised the price of the goods, saying that the shipping cost went up, so the selling price rose. Dragan wasn't happy, but there was nothing he could do. Here's the total, 12,400 US dollars, count it."

"What's there to count between us?" Victor nonchalantly stuffed the money into his pocket. Casare really fell for this kind of treatment, it made him feel respected at the very least.

"You keep track of how much you sell, and I'll pay out your share once a month."

Casare nodded, "No rush on that."

The two entered the house, which had three rooms and the air was still permeated with the smell of mold.

"What's the use of renting this place? It's pretty run-down."

Victor took out a cigarette and handed one to him, "When you're in the grey business, you have to understand the importance of leaving yourself a way out. This is just one of our bases. You and Holder should rent a few more on the outskirts of Mexico City. We'll make the arms deals at locations we choose."

"I don't trust the moral bottom line of Mexican drug traffickers at all."

If one gets hit on their own turf, it would just mean I, Mr. Gao, have no future and deserve not to prosper.

Casare, agreeing deeply with his statement, nodded in approval. There was too much backstabbing in Mexico, creating a severe lack of security.

Why is the "Godfather" Gallardo so famous?

He tied the beasts together and taught them to sit civilized at a table for meals. Ironically, at that time, Mexico's domestic security index was the highest it had been in forty years.

Because only the Gulf Cartel and the Guadalajara Cartel had their people under the pacification of their bosses, resulting in a kind of "peaceful coexistence."

But the moment the Godfather entered the prison, the Capital of Sinaloa, Culiacán, saw 117 shootings, with the number of people involved reaching into the thousands.

The beasts were released, and the rules became meaningless.

"How's the thing I asked you to look into?"

"I really couldn't find anything about Webster's wife; he's too cautious, but he has 3 mistresses. One of them is a female Jail Guard in the prison responsible for female inmates. They had a boy together—he's in boarding school, in high school. And I've heard that this woman Jail Guard has evidence of Webster taking bribes. That's what I heard from others."

This guy really had a knack for gathering intelligence.

"Are you planning to get back at him?" Casare asked.

"Do you have a way to get hold of that evidence?"

Victor was a bit curious, seeing his proactive attitude.

"I know a female drug trafficker in the women's prison. She's pretty ruthless, and works with the Casero family on the outside. After getting to know her a few times, I found out she has a son, and she hopes he can study abroad."

"Do you mean to say we should send her son abroad?" Victor thought he was joking. Don't you know how expensive it is to live abroad?

With our current income, you're kidding yourself.

Casare spoke in a lower voice, "Mexico is only a few kilometers from the Guatemalan border; that counts as abroad, right?"

Fuck!

Are you playing word games here?

Victor looked at him strangely, "You've changed quickly. You used to think I was cruel."

Casare fell silent for a while, then laughed, "With the first 600 US dollars I earned, I bought my mother a new sewing machine. She was very happy. I took them out for a big meal, and although it only cost me 30 dollars, seeing their smiles made me realize what I should want."

He had already tasted the sweetness of money.

Just like a shark that smells blood, would it ever let go?

Upon hearing this, Victor nodded, thought for a moment, and said, "Wait until after the Day of the Dead, and I will send your mother and siblings to the United States, where I will take care of their living expenses and education costs."

It's too dangerous in Mexico.

Casare was taken aback and hurriedly said, "I can pay…"

"You're my brother, your mother is my mother, and your siblings are my siblings. Don't fight me over this bit of money," Victor said, placing his hands on his shoulders.

Those words almost moved Casare. Maybe it's because Mexicans tend to be very selfish due to longstanding social conditions; everyone likes to take the lion's share in business.

Just like the drug trafficking organizations—billions in turnover, but those at the bottom like gunmen, traffickers, and growers barely get a fraction. Isn't that why Los Zetas broke away from the Gulf Cartel over an uneven distribution of profits?

Victor's notebook even outlined the development path for his own career, starting with the gray industry to do business in Mexico, while not meddling with neighboring United States, Guatemala, and Salvador. He didn't need that many employees.

Once he had enough people, he planned to open a "company."

He intended to create a "Caring Sponsorship Union" within this "company," allocating a certain percentage of monthly revenue as a fund to provide life assistance to the employees who joined the company.

For example, sponsoring their children's education, aiding the elderly in retirement, and if employees were willing, they could also donate voluntarily. This money would be used to improve employees' lives.

He even thought about buying insurance for employees, allowing them to enjoy the treatment of a legal "job."

When the time comes, with a little media promotion, the "company" would become known as a charity organization.

The Mexican Police never said one couldn't open businesses.

This was the path many Mexican drug lords had tried, but it didn't pan out ideally—the overhead was just too high. Los Zetas ended up with a force of 120,000, and just paying their salaries would be a headache.

If you get them insured, they would resist arrest on your behalf; give them a gold coin and, oh snap, tomorrow you've become a warlord.

But after all, this was just a fantasy.

The leader has to consider the feelings of the partners.

Setting up a few welfare institutions was already the best social expenditure.

Of course, this was all predicated on making money; if there's no profit, who the hell would do it?

"Work hard. Your dream of immigrating to the United States is not unattainable," Victor said, dangling a carrot before him. Wait until your arms dealing is out in the open then you won't want to immigrate to the States.

Getting back to business, Victor thought for a moment, "Then promise her that, but such a person would likely need to see some immediate benefits. Send $1,000 to her son, and later have him write a letter to send into the prison. If that inmate finds evidence from the Jail Guard, I'll give an additional $2,000 and send her son abroad for his studies."

"However, Webster will likely question her, and she might just end up turning you in," Victor said.

"She's a very tight-lipped person."

Victor squinted his eyes and took a drag of his cigarette, and nobody knew what he was thinking.

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