Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 500 - 328: "Aphrodite" Sacrificed!_2

Old Bush was also furious, but he couldn’t give the order to start a war. He glanced at Bahash Johnson beside him.

The latter understood immediately, stood up, shook his head, "Mr. Defense Minister, fighting on two fronts will be too strenuous for us."

"But he’s jumped right into our face! If we don’t teach him a lesson now, the whole world will think we’re pushovers!" General Carl Vorno was a hawk.

No, it should be said, all United States Defense Ministers were hawks. Why was he able to become the Defense Minister after the "Black Hawk Down" incident, if not for his relationship with Old Bush?

Before entering politics, he served as a senior executive at Boeing and Lockheed Martin, essentially a spokesman for the arms companies.

The Military Industrial Complex, the "high-level workers" in The Pentagon.

How can they make money without waging war?

Just fighting on two fronts?

Even if they had to go against the whole world, as long as it made money, these arms dealers would do it; whether the United States would get beaten up by a mob was none of their concern.

"What’s your opinion, Turner?" Old Bush looked towards the Director of the CIA and asked.

"It seems our proxy agents have gone up," Stanfield Turner said cryptically.

"You mean those drug traffickers? They’re completely unreliable!" The Defense Minister interjected, but Turner gave him a glance, and the curses that were about to spill from his mouth quieted down, "Let me finish."

"We can send soldiers to join them."

?????

Can they really do that?

"We can also sell more weapons to the Anti-Victor Alliance. There are some outdated planes at Boeing that need a buyer; we can get a kickback from the sale."

Old Bush coughed, "Let’s not talk about these irrelevant matters for now."

After all, they needed to save face.

"What do you all think?" he looked around at the others.

General Carl Vorno, of course, agreed and promptly raised his hand.

The others followed suit and raised their hands.

"You go to Mexico personally, meet with them, discuss the details, and also, we can’t stay silent on this matter, we should issue a protest," Old Bush squeezed out these words.

Imagine that one day the Yanks would also have to protest.

"Not so fast, sir. Regarding the mole you had me looking into, I have a lead," Stanfield Turner said.

Silence!

The office instantly fell silent; everyone looked at each other, and even the sound of their heartbeats seemed audible.

"Who!" Old Bush narrowed his eyes.

"Aren’t you going to tell us, Mr. Johnson?"

People’s eyes suddenly turned towards Bahash Johnson, the man who sat quietly in the corner. When he heard the words of the CIA Director, he looked up, a strange look in his eyes.

"Where’s the evidence?"

"Mickey Young Street, number 17," Turner gave an address.

Bahash Johnson went quiet immediately; that was the address of the Northern Mexico intelligence agency’s office in Washington. It seemed…

The CIA wasn’t all useless after all!

"Johnson... you!" Old Bush exclaimed, his eyes widening.

But the next second, his scalp went numb!

Bahash Johnson pulled a Browning handgun from his coat and decisively fired at Old Bush. The latter fell to the ground at the sound of the gunshot!

He then turned the gun on the others, firing one shot each at Defense Minister Carl Vorno and CIA Director Turner, before stuffing the barrel into his own mouth.

"Humanity shall be liberated!"

"Evil shall eventually be judged!"

"The sky belongs to the azure! To all of justice!"

"Wansheng!"

Bang!

The bullet traveled through his mouth, lodging in the clock behind him, scattering blood that stained the minute hand red. As it swung, it smeared over the entire date.

The bodyguards below, hearing the gunshots, rushed up and were stunned by the scene.

"Quick! Call an ambulance!!!"

The guests below saw a group of people rushing out of the study in a frenzy, each carrying a body, with blood dripping to the floor.

"OMG! OMG!!"

Everyone was shocked by the sight.

What had happened inside that study?

"I’m sorry, sirs, ladies, no one can leave today!" The head of the Special Service approached, his expression grim.

Motherfucker...

I’m about to lose my job.

Should I become a male model or something?

He took a deep breath!

He just hoped he wouldn’t die.

...

Mexico, Tijuana Hospital.

In a special ward at the top floor.

Victor was peeling an apple, handing it to Cuauhtémoc in bed, who nodded with a smile but had difficulty speaking.

The doctor said it was a miracle he survived.

His leg was amputated...

Three fingers on his left hand were gone.

Basically, he was done for.

A disabled man could never be the face of the nation, it was an unwritten rule, of course, there were no exceptions, like the ancient Sima Zhong, as well as the modern... Emperor Taisho.

Both had defects in the head.

"Don’t worry, this isn’t over, whoever did this to you, I’ll kill his entire family to get revenge for you," Victor said with a calm expression, but his tone was filled with a murderous aura.

Cuauhtémoc’s eyes welled up with tears, shouting "ah eh" from his mouth, no one knew what he was trying to say.

"Don’t worry about it, get better soon, we still need you, the drug traffickers haven’t been completely brought down, those who oppress us haven’t been completely driven out, you can’t fall now."

Victor pulled out a tissue to wipe away his tears, tucking the blanket around him, then turning to Cuauhtémoc’s teary-eyed wife, "Tatiana, don’t worry, I’ll hire the best doctors to take care of him."

"Thank you..."

Victor patted McClure’s head, who was red-eyed, "Is this all the drug trafficker’s doing, sir?"

"There are people worse than drug traffickers in this world, they don’t want peace, they feed on the blood of others, they preach war everywhere, they... treat us as the lowest of the low, your father was wounded in the struggle, he’s a hero."

"Then... then I want to be a hero too, I want to join the army!"

"McClure!" Tatiana shouted.

"A hero doesn’t necessarily have to join the army, sanitation workers, businessmen, workers, farmers, they are all heroes."

"But I want to kill them myself!" McClure shouted, clenching his fists, the youngster was growing quickly, glaring at Victor, "Santos became a Lieutenant, I can’t be weaker than him, I can kill drug traffickers too!"

Victor looked at him, saw the defiance in his eyes, fell silent for a moment, glanced at Tatiana and Cuauhtémoc on the bed, feeling a bit reluctant.

Perhaps sensing his hesitation, Cuauhtémoc began yelling from the bed, somewhat agitated, hitting the bed; Tatiana hurriedly got up to soothe him, "I’ll let him go, I’ll let him go, don’t get agitated."

The woman, while wiping away tears, looked at her son and then at Victor, "Let him go, sir."

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"He’s your only son..."

"On the road to the drug war, no one’s son matters, the farmer’s son is also on the frontlines, the president’s son naturally can be too, we’re all the same, loving Mexico, he’s my son, but he’s also the child of Mexico." Tatiana looked at McClure, "As a man, you have to be brave enough to do what you’ve decided, don’t back down, every difficulty is a stepping stone to becoming stronger."

Victor looked at the family, feeling a twinge of shame.

Cuauhtémoc was the true "Mexican."

Thud thud thud~

The knocking sound came, Thirteen Protectors’ George Smiley entered, with a rather serious expression, "Sir."

Victor nodded towards Cuauhtémoc and the others and walked out first, in the corner, the hallway outside was full of bodyguards, all with stern expressions, not even doctors or nurses were allowed close.

"Aphrodite has been sacrificed..."

Victor’s hand, which was about to take a cigarette, shook; he frowned.

"We received messages from others, ’Aphrodite’ was discovered, shot Old Bush and several high-ranking officials before being sacrificed, but their fates are unknown."

CIA still has capabilities, huh!

"Does Augustin Przybylski know?"

George Smiley shook his head, his expression very somber.

Like the South Korean boss who couldn’t avoid prison, those Yanks who have the power to call the shots are often shot at, but being killed by one of their own, doesn’t it sound like that Takagi Masao?

"Don’t worry for now, let’s wait until Augustin Przybylski returns to discuss," Victor took a deep breath, "Find a church and hold a funeral for ’Aphrodite,’ and when the time comes, attend in my stead."

That was all he could do at the moment.

George Smiley nodded solemnly.

Victor, looking through the glass, watched the bustling streets far away; there were always people, amidst prosperity, who remained steadfast in the dark.

The cause of justice is never-ending!

"Viva la victory!"

...