Working as a police officer in Mexico

Chapter 376: Baga on the left, Xiba on the right, and a big tortoise in the middle!

That reporter is obviously a brat!

I was very angry when I heard such slander from Goebbels, "We Japan is an independent country!"

"Then why does your emperor call MacArthur Daddy? I think his son is definitely a Yankee. You can go back and ask your emperor's wife how many times MacArthur shot her and whether he sowed the seeds."

Goebbels was not polite at all, but it is true that Japan and the United States are too close.

Jun Bu Wen, there are two dogs, Yingjiang, Japanese and Korean. The left is called Baga and the right is called Xiba. These are the people Victor hates the most.

Ergouzi is the most annoying!

"Baga!"

The Asian reporter was obviously an extreme royalist. When he heard Goebbels scolding the emperor, he didn't know how to refute, because what he said might be true.

According to the grapevine…

MacArthur and Queen Xiangchun really had an affair. At that time, Hirohito was pushing from behind. This is recorded in unofficial history.

What?

What are you talking about?

If you knew it, would you still call it wild?

The Japanese reporter cursed loudly, rushed onto the stage with a single step, and rushed towards Goebbels with his teeth and claws bared. He wanted to show this man what the spirit of a Showa man is!

Bang!!

There was a muffled sound, and then a figure was seen "flying".

The reporters sitting below were trembling. They didn't dare to say a word. They could see clearly that when the Japanese reporter rushed up, the bodyguard standing next to Goebbels kicked him over.

fail!

The Latin American author's eyes suddenly became a little sad, but he immediately picked up his spirits and had already thought about the front page this time.

"Mexican Propaganda Minister Assassinated?" The assassin is actually a royalist? 》

"Japan tried to get involved in Mexico, but failed to assassinate Goebbels!" 》

They are all dead Taoist friends but not the masters of poor Taoists.

The Japanese reporter fell to the ground and curled up. The security guard rushed up and held him down. He pressed him to the ground and dragged him outside by his hair.

"Gentlemen!"

Goebbels said with a sinister look, "In Tijuana, please show proper respect."

"If you don't give it..."

He was silent for a moment, and then said loudly, "We will educate you on behalf of your parents."

"From now on, Japanese media will be blocked!"

Goebbels left with a bad expression.

But since then, no one has seen the Japanese reporter again.

If you are looking for death, the Mexicans will of course do what you want.

After coming out of the press conference, he had just returned to the office when the phone on the desk rang. It was from the Governor's Palace that the general wanted to see him.

Before he could even sit down, he jumped up and hurriedly called his secretary and driver.

"Boss, would you like to call more security personnel?" the secretary asked.

"No, aren't two enough?" Goebbels waved his hand, "Tijuana is safe enough."

This is confidence!

In Tijuana, if you want to buy a gun on the black market, some people dare to sell it, but there are also people who dare to report it. If you report it once, you will be rewarded with 100,000 pesos, and you can get 1% of the dealer's assets.

Some people stare.

Tijuana now has more than 11 million people, some of whom are foreigners. If you want to "immigrate" from here, each smuggler has an official license, and the Governor's Office gets 60% of it!

I don’t care about your origin, but if you mess around in Mexico, you will lose your “immigration” qualification and can only follow the smugglers in other small mountainous areas. Not to mention the high price, you may not be successful.

The difference between legal and illegal.

Generally speaking, these foreigners are very honest for their own American dream.

Two Mercedes-Benzes drove out of the Propaganda Department and headed towards the Governor's Mansion. They had government license plates on them, and generally no one would dare to do anything wrong.

Victor's majesty seeps into every sewer in Tijuana.

Goebbels sat in the back seat, reading with a book in his hand.

"Beep!" The driver honked the horn vigorously, looking a little anxious. He raised his head and saw three large trucks side by side in front of him.

"There's a traffic light ahead."

"But you can't stop like this at traffic lights. Tijuana city regulations don't allow this. These people are so stupid!" the bodyguard complained.

The speaker has no intention of saying this, but the listener has the intention.

Goebbels's heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly looked back. His pupils froze, and he saw a heavy truck rushing over from a distance! ! !

"Get off the bus! Get off the bus!" He shouted loudly, pushed open the door forcefully, and jumped towards the railing next to him.

The bodyguard driving the car was startled, but he reacted quickly. He pressed his seat belt and ran off. Before he could jump over the railing, he heard a bang and a violent impact. The powerful impact of the heavy truck knocked the two Mercedes-Benz cars away. The car immediately squeezed under the truck in front.

It turned into a cake directly!

The car in front was seeping with blood and human remains...

The secretary and bodyguard sitting in this car disappeared!

The huge sound scared the surrounding people. They all ran to the side in panic and looked at this scene in horror.

The only remaining bodyguards drew out their guns and surrounded Goebbels warily.

"Don't let him get away!"

The propaganda minister pointed at the driver who staggered out of the heavy pickup truck.

The bodyguard hesitated and shook his head, "The main thing now is to protect your safety!"

But there was no need for him. This area was a busy area with many police officers. When a car accident occurred, the police arrived immediately. When they saw Goebbels, the captain of the team trembled.

"Sir!"

"Get me under control!"

"yes!"

Push the drivers of the four large trucks to the ground.

Goebbels looked gloomy.

This incident was quickly reported to the Governor's Palace in Tijuana. Victor was furious and asked George Smiley to rush to the scene, while Chief of Guard Joseph Joffre went to the hospital to visit Goebbels.

Zhizhi~

After driving the heavy pickup truck backwards, the two Mercedes-Benz cars sandwiched inside finally screamed and became a mess.

It started to rain lightly.

George Smiley pushed down the umbrella handed to him by his subordinate.

MD, if it doesn’t work out well, will it rain?

Go home and farm!

"Sir, Mr. Goebbels's secretary and bodyguard are dead." Someone from the rescue team came over and said.

George Smiley nodded, "Did those drivers say anything?"

"The driver of the car behind said he was dozing off and didn't see the car in front. The driver in front said that he just didn't like being behind in a side-by-side..."

"Dozing off, huh."

"Come on, take him to the interrogation room. I want to see how sleepy he is!"

This matter must be a premeditated assassination.

Victor is annoying, but his security level is too high, so he can only target some of the people below. Kennedy, the second-largest figure in the military, encountered him twice, one was a shooting incident, and Casare encountered him four times. This guy has a lot of luck, everything will be fine.

Kwaukemot, a close partner, almost lost his life.

Tsk tsk tsk...

People outside look at these people and wish they could eat their flesh, sip their blood, break their bones, suck their marrow, sleep on their skin, and pluck out their hair!

The main thing is that the things Victor does are relatively big.

In particular, the deaths of the Shin Bet Intelligence Department Director and Mossad Director made the already stingy Israelis even more dissatisfied.

It would be strange not to take revenge.

Unofficial history records: Jesus said on the roadside, wow, this lumpy squid really smells fishy.

Then he was killed by them.

Before he died, he left a will: "I will make you an immortal!"

Of course these are unofficial histories.

In the underground interrogation room of Mexico's "Information Bureau" intelligence agency.

A torture chamber.

A man's hands were tied, and his eyelids were gone. They were pulled open with hooks. Didn't you say you were dozing off? Now let's open your eyes wide and take a look.

If his chest wasn't still heaving, he would have thought he was dead.

A staff member wearing a mask walked up and gave him an adrenaline shot.

"Can you speak properly?"

This guy was so hard, he just kept going, I don’t know, I actually dozed off.

"Send him to see room three." The interrogation staff member's face darkened, and the two people next to him pushed him to the next room. It was a glass room, and when he looked inside, he saw a large stove.

"Sound out."

The employees inside signed OK and pressed a button, and they could hear the crackling of flames inside, as well as a man begging for mercy and screaming.

"This is an uncooperative drug dealer..." The employee standing next to the driver was still explaining to him. The next second, the drug dealer was carried and forced into the stove.

The other party was struggling hard, but it was useless. Fire burned from the bottom of his feet and swallowed the whole person within a short time. Screams came out through the loudspeaker.

The driver's body was shaking.

Snap!

A hand was placed on his shoulder, startling him.

"This is the lightest punishment, because you just have to be burned to death, but we have other ones, you know Eastern cooking, we have an iron pot, put the person in, light the fire underneath...tsk tsk tsk tsk."

You could feel the man shaking vigorously.

Bullshit, who is not afraid!

With a squeeze of the hand on the shoulder and a little force, the driver's psychological defense collapsed.

"One hundred thousand dollars, they gave me one hundred thousand dollars to kill people!"

"who…"

"Japan Trading Company!"

…

As we all know, the Japanese came to Latin America after World War II, especially Brazil. Their power and number were very large, with their number once exceeding 1.5 million!

They worked as a "pioneering group" in Brazil, bought land, and then protected it very well and kept a low profile, but anyone with a discerning eye could sense their evil intentions. Their reputation during World War II was too bad.

In addition to Brazil, they are also actively cultivating their reputation in other places. Venezuela, Canada, Colombia, and Mexico all have their industries.

The Chamber of Commerce is one such form.

There are also about 50,000 Japanese in Mexico. They mainly gather in a Japanese-style street in northwest Tijuana. It mainly features Japanese architecture, cuisine and products, and provides Japanese restaurants, tea ceremony experiences, shopping and other services.

Also has edges.

There is a "unique product" called the Godly Maiden. In the past, they were the kind of homeless girls. Generally, such women could take home some money, but later it gradually evolved into a term for special career women.

By the way, it is illegal to buy sex in Japan, but there is a bug in it. You can go out for a meal with the girl you have negotiated a good price with, and then book a hotel room. This is called...dating, and it is purely a bug.

Turkey is the same. There are streetwalkers. They will be beaten to death because of this type of behavior, and they will be stoned. Therefore, before selling, you have to go to the church to find an Ama to register for marriage, and then, after the sex, they will bring you to divorce. These are all experiences. (I don’t tell ordinary people).

Selling sex in Tijuana is illegal. Victor does not allow it. If it is legal, there will be no protection for women, and many women will disappear.

But there are countermeasures from the top and downstream policies. The Japanese are first-class at making tricks. This style street is also the same, attracting many foreign tourists.

Yamamoto Keijiro was standing outside smoking and squatting on the ground. There was a sound of groaning in the house. It ended after a while. After three or four minutes, a tall white man came out and gave him a thumbs up when he saw him.

He bowed to the other party and smiled, watching the other party walk away, and then walked in, and saw a woman lying naked on the bed.

"Where's the money!"

The woman pointed to a stack of US dollars on the bedside table, showing greed, and grabbed it.

"Honey, I don't want to do this anymore. These foreigners are too perverted." The woman whispered, "Let's go back to Japan."

"Go back? We haven't made any money yet! Wait until I make some more. You're not tired. You can just lie down and scream."

The woman lowered her head, but her resistance was obvious.

Yamamoto Keijiro frowned, stuffed the money into his pocket, pinched her chin, and warned, "I tell you, you'd better cooperate, otherwise, hehe..."

The woman seemed to think of something, shuddered, and nodded vigorously.

The man nodded with satisfaction, "Okay, I'll go outside to find you a customer, you drink some water."

As he said that, he walked out the door, humming a little song with great interest. He could have fun again in the evening, but as soon as the door was opened, he saw two policemen standing outside.

"Check your ID."

Yamamoto Keijiro's expression froze. He didn't have any ID. He was just a smuggler. He looked outside and saw dozens of policemen standing outside, checking people.

? ? ?

What's going on!

Why did they suddenly check ID cards?

Just when he was at a loss, two Japanese old men trotted over, wearing kimonos, ran towards the leader with a smile on their faces, and bowed their heads.

"Sir, what do you want today?"

"Check proof of residence!"

The Japanese old men looked at each other and said in embarrassment, "Sir, this... this... We have met with your Director Santos, and we have a good relationship. What do you think..."

"Santos?"

The old man's face was happy and he nodded hurriedly, but the next sentence made them feel cold.

"I don't know any Santos, and, look carefully, what is this sign!" The policeman turned sideways and pointed to the armband on his arm.

It was a crested carahawk holding the royal power, looking around with sharp eyes.

"Thirteen Taibao!!"

It's too damn similar to the uniforms of ordinary policemen.

The two old men looked panicked.

The leading guard pushed them away and put his hands in his hands, "That's right, we are here to cause trouble today, don't make it difficult for us, you should clearly declare our purpose, regardless of life or death!"

The two old men's calves were shaking.

"Now, whoever can report the crime in Fengqing Street can be treated leniently! Is there anyone!"

Yamamoto Keijiro shrank his head. He planned to be a turtle and hide behind. At worst, he would be sent back. However, what did the Thirteen Guardians mean, and why did the two elders look so scared?

He had only been here for a short time and didn't quite understand.

Just when he was about to pretend to be a grandson, Yamamoto Keijiro suddenly heard a voice behind him, "Sir, I report that someone is trafficking in people and smuggling drugs!"

The word "drugs" immediately attracted the attention of all the police, and they all looked over.

Yamamoto Keijiro's legs were shaking, and he turned back fiercely.

"Don't talk nonsense, stinky woman!"

"I'm not talking nonsense, he... He also boasted to me that he was doing something big, assassinating a big man!"

...