Chapter 250 Casare: There are no good people in Detroit!
"Sniper!!"
An Asian in Los Zetas shouted.
These were obviously some veterans Guzman had recruited from Vietnam.
Their tactical moves were beautiful. With a light roll, they slid down the back of the hill, holding their guns and breathing heavily.
If it were a strong European or American, this move would give him a concussion.
Simon Haye lay calmly.
Comparing patience?
He had outlasted an eagle.
The two women fluttered in the water in fear, intending to wade directly over, but the waist-deep water made them a little panicked, and one of them stumbled and fell down.
Screaming in fear, subconsciously pulling their companions, the two women fluttered in the water.
"Help! Help! We are the United Nations... Gurgle Gurgle"
Simon Haye didn't even blink.
What a joke.
What if he showed up and was sniped?
Women would only affect his speed.
Soldiers, on the battlefield, must first ensure their own safety. Snipers will never be disturbed by the outside world.
Slowly...
Finally someone couldn't bear it anymore.
A head finally timidly poked out.
For the "White Death", the biggest difference between your head and a glass bottle is...
When you explode, you are beautiful...
Several Vietnamese saw the bodies of their companions, screamed in a mess, got scared, looked at each other, and ran away after leaving the bodies.
"Hey, Simon." The observer came back with a small team, his expression tense, "What's wrong? Did you kill the surrendered man?"
"No, there were pursuers just now."
"Where's the woman?"
Simon Haye pointed, "Go down."
The observer was stunned, and he saw two heads in the middle of the river with a telescope.
"What did they shout about the United Nations just now... I didn't hear it clearly."
His companion turned his head to look at him, was stunned for a second, and then shouted anxiously, "United Nations? Quick! Go and pull it back." He shouted to the police behind him.
A group of people rushed down.
The sprinter caught up with them in no time, and three or four police officers rushed up and pulled them up.
The two women drank a lot of water, hammered hard a few times, and vomited a few times before finally recovering.
"Who are you?"
"We are... employees of the United Nations Drug Abuse Control Fund. This... this is my work permit."
A woman took out her permit, grabbed the police officer's hand tightly, and burst into tears, "Dead, all dead, all dead."
...
The news quickly spread to Tijuana.
Miss Krista Schroeder hurried to Victor's office in high heels, but still knocked on the door. She went in only after the other party responded.
Victor was practicing calligraphy. When he heard the footsteps, he didn't even raise his head, "Wait until I finish writing."
He wrote the last stroke of the calligraphy with a stroke of the brush.
"Zhou Gong spits out his breast, and the world is at peace!"
Victor was still very satisfied when he saw it.
"How's it going, Christa?"
"Very good, sir. Sorry to bother you, but there's an urgent matter for you to deal with."
Miss Christa Schroeder looked solemn. "The ground forces rescued two women being hunted by drug dealers outside the city of San Blas. They told us that they belonged to the United Nations Drug Abuse Control Fund, and two kilometers away from the confrontation line, they found the attacked convoy."
"Here are the photos." She took out a few photos from the file and handed them over.
Victor squinted and saw several cars with the words UN written on them, which were full of bullets, and in another photo, seven or eight men were shot to death, and their bodies were lined up in a row.
"According to the rescued, they were originally planning to go to a local school to promote anti-drug work. There were a total of 6 UN staff members, and the others were local bodyguards and guides."
"Wait, go to Sinaloa to promote anti-drug work?" Victor asked with his eyes wide open.
"Yes."
"Okay, I admire their courage, please continue."
Does the United Nations have a list of people to be killed?
As for wasting their employees like this?
These bastard drug dealers in Mexico are illiterate.
UN, they may not think of the United Nations, but a kind of graffiti by armed personnel.
Don’t say you are an ordinary staff member, even if you are the Secretary-General, you will die for being so arrogant.
Didn’t Hammarskjold die in an "accident"?
Christa Schroeder, "But this is seriously inconsistent with the number of bodies, that is, at least 3 people are still alive, and their whereabouts are currently unknown."
"This matter may fall on us?"
"Yes, sir."
Victor nodded, crossed his hands, and thought quietly, what can he get from this.
Of course he is just, but it would be best if there were some US dollars in justice.
As the chief secretary, Miss Christa Schroeder certainly knew what he was thinking, "It is said that the United Nations Narcotics Division, the International Narcotics Control Board Secretariat and the United Nations Drug Abuse Control Fund are to be merged."
Victor's buried memory jumped up at once.
Yes!
United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime!
"I think Mexico needs to join in and provide legal and effective force guarantees to our anti-drug colleagues around the world." Victor suddenly became excited.
You must know that the United Nations Counter-Narcotics Program is an independent unit that reports directly to the Secretary-General. He can carry out "anti-drug operations" in any country and region around the world.
If you don't cooperate, then I will file a complaint.
Mexico, the executive director of the Drug Enforcement Administration, can't get it, so the deputy director or senior assistant must hang on Victor's head.
"Where are they? At the forward military hospital."
"Bring them to Tijuana Hospital and let the best doctors consult. I want to go to the hospital to see them in person."
"Also, help me bring my reporter."
Victor is going to put on a show!
No, this is called condolences.
Since it happened in my Mexican territory, Victor, I naturally have to take care of it. As a parent, I will take charge of this matter.
Who dares to cause trouble on my territory?
Just don’t give me Victor face.
…
At this time, Casare, three employees of the Joint Operations Command, and three bodyguards were walking out of the Detroit Airport.
When they travel for official business, of course they take a passenger plane, but do they take a private plane?
However, Victor is still very generous and flies first class on business trips.
"Isn't there anyone to pick you up?" Casare stood on tiptoes and looked around. He didn't see anyone holding a sign, so he asked his colleagues next to him.
"I never said that."
"Fake, Americans are not polite at all!" Casare muttered. He did not dare to speak too loudly for fear of being beaten.
He checked his watch and had no choice but to go to the hotel first.
As soon as a group of people walked out of the terminal, they heard a roar and saw a dozen black men riding old-fashioned motorcycles chasing a white car?
They roared like apes, and the steel pipes in their hands hit the car body hard. The glass shattered to the ground, and the people inside made explosive sounds in fear.
"Detroit gangs, chaos on 13th Street." said a colleague from the Joint Operations Department standing next to him.
Casare glanced at him, "You know?"
"The largest black criminal gang that was born after the black riots in 1967, have you seen their ears? Everyone who joins the gang must cut off their left earring, symbolizing that they can never leave the gang." A colleague said Halfway through, he was interrupted.
"If you meet these people on the street, run away." At this moment, a white man with gray hair came out, sighed, and interjected.
"They are a cancer in Detroit."
He shook his head and left, still muttering in his mouth.
"It is said that they were responsible for 7 of the 10 murders in Detroit." The colleague looked at the old man's back and paused, "They have a cooperative relationship with the Sinaloa Cartel, and they are also the largest drug distributor in Michigan. ”
Kasare swallowed and his face twitched.
This is where we ran into enemy-occupied territory.
"Don't they have any rivals?"
“Local white people.”
Before my colleague finished speaking, he heard a huge crash. Several people turned around to look, and saw a Hummer civilian vehicle crashing directly into the motorcycle, pinning a black man directly underneath, and then dying They dragged him to the ground, causing his flesh and blood to become bloody.
A few white people came down from above, took out their guns and started shooting!
The black man was stunned!
Not polite at all.
The sudden gunfire made the surrounding tourists lie down in fear, and some even ran back to the airport screaming.
"Quick! Let's go!" Casare and others pulled two taxis away and jumped in. "Go to the Hilton Hotel!"
"Are you guys here for tourism? Don't be nervous. We see this kind of thing every day." The buck-toothed driver smiled when he saw Casare and others running into the car and said, "As long as you don't get involved, you'll be fine. ”
"Every day? Where is the local police?"
"The police don't have as much firepower as the MP5." The driver said with a smile, raised his head and looked at a few people in the rearview mirror, and said familiarly, "Where are you from?"
"Mexico."
Upon hearing this, the driver became interested, "I heard that Victor from Mexico is very ferocious? Very powerful? Have you seen him? Is he as powerful as the legend says?"
Casare and his colleague looked at each other and shook their heads, "No, he is very busy. Do you know him?"
"Of course! But I think no matter how awesome he is, he shouldn't be as powerful as the Detroit gangsters. It's all blown up by others." The driver said casually.
"He might have to beg for mercy when he sees the Detroit gang."
Casare patted the colleague next to him who was about to refute, and smiled like a Maitreya Buddha, "You are right."
The driver was very happy when the other party agreed with him, and kept talking about what he saw and heard, most of which were negative news about Victor.
What seven women in one night.
He wants to eat "people"...
Wait for the rumors!
Kasare clenched his fists when he heard this.
After sending them to the hotel, he watched the taxi leave, his expression falling.
"It seems that the Detroit community is the most rude. Aren't we planning to teach the local gangs a lesson? Let's start here."
"I want to see who is better, the Detroit gangsters or the Mexican warlords."
…