Chapter 14: A Top Actor. (Please Read On!!)

Victor is a moral hygienic.

He would feel bad if the person who offended him died in an unclean way.

But even if he was nervous, he acted calmly. Being a big brother means being a big brother. However, since he was able to send a bomb into the prison, it seems that he is very determined to kill himself.

Warden Webster also came, followed by Cona Velasquez, frowning and looking at the smoking building, the two of them talked.

"What do you think they are talking about?"

Casare glanced at it, "Maybe they are thinking about how to embezzle some money from the maintenance fee."

"I guess they are thinking about why they didn't blow me up."

Casare was stunned, and then he heard Victor continue, "Here they come."

The former looked at the two superiors and saw them rushing over. When Cona Velasquez saw Victor, his face looked like he was constipated.

Webster's eyes seemed to flicker, and then he was very concerned, "Victor, how are you? Are you injured?"

"No, I'm just scared." Victor forced a smile and pointed to the bombed office, "If I hadn't had something happen suddenly, I would have gone to see my father now."

Webster's eyelids twitched, "Don't worry, I will definitely find out the matter and give you an explanation. Do you want to rest for a few days? I'll give you two days off."

Vacation?

You really want me to die!

Victor was very resistant, "Sir, I still have a job, and I can still work. I can't hide because of fear. This is revenge against me, and I will never give in. God bless me and Mexico!"

His voice became louder and louder, and almost everyone heard it, "Mexican police will not be intimidated by fear! Justice will prevail!"

Casare was almost digging out a portrait of the character with his toes.

Say this in public in Mexico, what's the difference between pooping in public?

But Victor is worthy of being a "Hollywood" level extra. He looked solemn, as if he was really a righteous man going to the execution ground.

The words are very nice, it's a pity not to run for election.

Webster narrowed his eyes and was furious. He finally figured out that Victor, who looked honest, was not a good person.

Haggis's death was full of doubts.

But this bastard who should have died long ago was like a weed that was growing stronger and stronger. How could Webster feel comfortable?

However, he had spent a lot of time in the big dye vat of official career after all. He had mastered the skills of speaking to people and speaking to ghosts. He patted Victor on the shoulder, praised him a few words, and said in public that he would give a follow-up result to this matter.

Casare's scalp was itchy when he watched from the side.

He couldn't learn these nonsense.

As the saying goes, second-rate actors are acting, and first-rate actors are in politics. Especially in places like Mexico, you can't tell which politician was bought by drug lords, because their performances on TV are exactly the same.

They look upright, but they are actually hypocrites.

But there is no way. If you want to live longer, you have to learn to lie.

Webster left, but he was obviously unhappy.

"Check who else is in his family." Victor said to Casare, looking at his boss's back.

"What are you going to do?"

"Are you crazy? That's a government official."

"See how pitiful he is, I have to comfort his family."

Comfort?

Casare always felt that you wanted to kill his whole family.

"Don't worry, I'm not crazy enough to lose my mind." Victor stretched out his hand and motioned him to pull himself up, "I just suddenly want to see what he feels like in despair?"

Casare's whole body tensed.

Damn, I knew there were no normal people in Mexico!

...

Boom!

Thunder and lightning flashed across the sky of Mexico City.

Heavy rain poured down in an instant, and pedestrians on the roadside fled like running wild dogs.

Magdalena Misuca District.

In front of Ramón López Velarde University.

A gray Toyota was parked on the side of the road. The wipers were a bit old and made a creaking sound. There was a bit of grease on the glass.

There were two smokers sitting inside, smoking one cigarette after another. The whole car was filled with smoke.

Best was flipping through Playboy. This thing came from the United States and was hard currency. There were a lot of unknown white spots on it, and it was obviously weathered.

This is hard currency.

It is the favorite of the lower-level gangsters in Mexico, and it is also one of the reasons for yearning for the United States.

It is said that the women there have big vaginas.

Like cows.

The bell rang, and Best, who was lying in the driver's seat, threw the magazine away, looked at his watch, held a cigarette in his mouth, straightened the seat, and stared outside with wide eyes, but the glass was a bit blurry.

"Damn, the class is finally over. Are students so stressed during class time now? Studying is so tiring, I might as well come out and join a gang."

"Studying has a future." Someone next to him said.

"Are you an honest man like us? Or are you going out to work?"

Best's academic performance has always been poor. He even hates studying. He is a typical useless person, so he doesn't bother to argue with him.

"Is it that person? Duke." Suddenly he found a figure that looked very similar. He pointed at a student who was just over 1.7 meters tall. The other person's hair was dyed red and green. He took out a photo to compare.

Best was a veteran. He made preparations after receiving a call from Casare. He bribed a teacher in the school and spent 100 pesos to ask for a photo. Otherwise, the ghost knew who the target was?

"It looks like it. I'll drive up and shout."

Best quickly put down the handbrake and slowly moved over, preparing to get closer, but the target was very clever. He turned around and glanced, feeling something was wrong, so he ran away.

"Duke, catch up!"

This man couldn't run as fast as a car. He stepped on the accelerator and leaned next to him. Duke stretched his body out of the window, grabbed the other person's collar, and pulled him over forcefully.

He covered the other person's mouth and pulled him hard into the car. His behavior was extremely rough. The other person resisted fiercely and even reached out to grab the steering wheel.

The angry Beste punched the opponent with a backhand, stunning him to death.

"Duke, hold him down!" He waved his hand dissatisfied, "Call Casare and tell him the target is captured..."

Duke took out a Motorola DynaTAC 8000X from the back seat, which was the mobile phone used by his father's generation. He pressed the number and after two rings, someone answered, "Hello!"

"It's done."

"Okay, take it to the abandoned warehouse ten kilometers northwest of the prison. Best knows the place." After the other end said it, he hung up.

Duke turned to look at Best. The soundproofing effect of this phone was not very good, and the latter could hear clearly.

"How do you choose that place?"

"What's wrong?"

"It's okay. More than 40 Asians who wanted to smuggle to the United States died there before. Buddha bless them!"

Mexicans also pay attention to taboos.

"You don't believe in God anymore?"

"My God has been killed by drug dealers, and my belief in death can only be abandoned. Maybe it won't be long before I am a devout MSL."

"However, what I believe in most now is money. When I have money, I will go to the Vatican to build a temple."

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