Chapter 250 Casare: There are no good people in Detroit!
“Sniper!!”
An Asian in Los Zetas shouted.
These are obviously some veterans that Guzman recruited from Vietnam.
Their tactical moves were very beautiful. With a light roll, they slid directly to the back of the hill, holding their guns and breathing heavily.
If it were a strong European or American, this action would give him a concussion.
Simon Haye lay down calmly.
Than patience?
He once survived an eagle.
The two women were frightened and fluttered in the water, planning to wade directly over, but the waist-deep water made them panic. They stumbled and one of them fell down.
Screaming in horror, they subconsciously pulled their companions, and the two women just flopped in the water.
"Help! Help! We are the United Nations...GuluGulu~"
Simon Haye didn't even blink.
What a joke.
What if you stand out and are attacked?
Women only affect his speed.
Soldiers must first ensure their own safety on the battlefield. Snipers will never let the outside world ruin their mood.
Slowly...
Finally someone couldn't bear it anymore.
A head finally popped out timidly.
For the "White Death", the biggest difference between your head and a glass bottle is...
When you explode, it is beautiful...
Several Vietnamese saw the bodies of their companions, They screamed, got scared, looked at each other, dropped the body and ran away.
"Hi, Simon." The observer came back with a team, his expression tense, "What's wrong? You won't kill the person who surrendered, will you?"
"No, there were pursuers just now."
"Where is the woman?"
Simon Haye pointed, "Rush down."
The observer was stunned, and he saw two heads emerging in the middle of the river with his binoculars.
"What did they call the United Nations just now...I didn't hear it clearly."
The companion turned to look at him, stunned for a second, and then shouted anxiously, "United Nations? Quick! Go and pull him back." ." he shouted to the police officer behind him.
A group of people rushed down.
Scud immediately caught up with them, 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, and finally calmed down.
"Who are you?"
"We are...employees of the United Nations Narcotics Abuse Control Fund, this...this is my work ID."
A woman took out her ID, grabbed the police officer's hand tightly, and cried immediately, "Dead, all dead, all dead."
......
The news soon reached Tijuana.
Miss Christa Schroeder hurried to Victor's office in high heels, but she still knocked on the door and waited for the other person to answer before she went in.
Victor was practicing calligraphy when he heard footsteps and without even raising his head, he said, "Wait until I finish writing."
As soon as he ticked the calligraphy stroke, he finished writing the last stroke.
“The Duke of Zhou vomited his breasts, and the world returned home!”
Victor was still very satisfied with it.
"How's it going? Christa."
"Very nice, sir. I'm sorry to interrupt your elegance, but there is an urgent matter that needs your attention right now."
< br>
Miss Krista Schroeder looked solemn, "The ground troops rescued two women who were chased by drug dealers outside the city of San Blas. They learned from them that they belonged to the United Nations Narcotics Abuse Control Fund, and in Two kilometers away from the confrontation line, the attacked convoy was found."
"Here are the photos." She took out a few photos from the file and handed them over.
Victor squinted and saw several cars with UN written on them, which were full of bullets. In another photo, seven or eight men were killed and the bodies were lined up.
“According to the rescued persons, they originally planned to go to a local school to promote anti-drug work. There were a total of 6 United Nations staff members, and the others were bodyguards and guides hired by the local area.”
"Wait, going to Sinaloa to do anti-drug propaganda?" Victor asked with eyes wide open.
"Yes."
"Okay, I admire their courage, please go on."
Does the United Nations have a death list?
As for ruining their employees like this?
These bastard drug dealers in Mexico are illiterate.
UN, they may not be thinking of the United Nations, but a kind of graffiti written by armed personnel.
Don’t say you are an ordinary staff member. Even if you are the secretary-general, you will die if you are so arrogant.
Didn’t Hammarskjöld die in an “accident”?
Christa Schroeder, "But this is seriously inconsistent with the number of corpses. In other words, at least three people are still alive and their current whereabouts are unknown."
"This case Could it happen to us? ”
"Yes, sir."
Victor nodded, crossed his hands, and quietly thought about what he could get from this.
Of course he is just, but it would be best if he could have some dollars in justice. As the chief secretary, Miss Christa Schroeder certainly knew what he was thinking, "It is said that the United Nations Division of Narcotics, the Secretariat of the International Narcotics Control Board and the United Nations Narcotics Abuse Control Fund are going to be merged."
< br>
Victor’s buried memory suddenly jumped up.
right!
UNODC!
"I think Mexico needs to join in and provide legal and effective force guarantees to anti-drug colleagues around the world." Victor immediately became energetic.
You know, 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 Just go and 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."
"Take them to Tijuana Hospital and let the best doctors consult. I want to go to the hospital to see them in person."< br>
“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.
Of course they take a passenger plane for a business trip, but 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 around him.
“I never said that.”
"Faq, Americans are not polite at all!" Casare muttered. He did not dare to speak too loudly for fear of being beaten.
He looked at his watch and had no choice but to go to the hotel first.
As soon as the group 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 born after the black riots in 1967, have you seen their ears? Everyone who joins the gang must Cutting off his left earring symbolizes that he will never be able to leave the gang." The colleague was interrupted mid-sentence.
"If you encounter these people on the street, run away." At this moment, a white man with gray hair came out, sighed, and interjected.
"They are the cancer of 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, his face twitching.
This is a run into enemy-occupied territory.
“Have they no rivals?”
“Local white people.”
Before the 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 died 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 immediately 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 the others pulled two taxis and jumped in. "Go to the Hilton Hotel!"
"Are you here for tourism? Don't be nervous. This kind of thing happens every day. "The driver was buck-toothed. He smiled when he saw Casare and others running into the car, "As long as you don't get involved, it will be fine."
"Where are 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 cruel? Very powerful? Have you seen him? Is he as powerful as the legend says?"
Casare and his colleagues exchanged opinions. He looked at it and shook his head, "No, he's 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.
"Maybe he has 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. .”
Seeing that the other party agreed with him, the driver was very happy 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 take a look, Who is better, Detroit gangsters or Mexican warlords?"
......
(End of this chapter)