Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 563 - 351: Really want to crack someone’s skull open!

Colombia, Santa Fe de Bogota.

The days for the Medellin Cartel were quite pleasant.

If things had continued as before, Pablo would have been driven to a dead end by the DEA and FBI of the United States by now.

It wouldn't have been long before the "drug trafficker on the rooftop" scenario played out.

But Victor's sudden emergence made the FBI and The Pentagon drastically lower their "drug lord danger" rating.

If issues with Victor on the side aren't handled well, it could majorly affect the fortune of the United States, and if one is not careful, it could even become a joke across Latin America.

Compared to him, what's a drug trafficker?

Other than occasionally emitting a foul stench, what else can a chamber pot do?

It fundamentally can't encroach upon the United States.

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Most importantly, the FBI urgently needs the drug lord's funds, so if the Victory Goddess is blown up, then it's blown up, after all, that thing is already dilapidated.

This also shows that America is a nation capable of "enduring."

April 5.

For his youngest daughter's birthday, Pablo spent two million dollars to custom-make a Disney doll in her likeness, adorned with thirty-six emeralds; such lavishness was truly breathtaking.

He even held a lavish banquet in his hometown of Medellin, where anyone could come to eat, and there was money to be taken, one hundred dollars per person!

Damn it!

No wonder this guy is esteemed like a saint in his own Medellin.

As he carried his beautifully dressed daughter out to the balcony, the gathered crowd below cheered loudly.

"Do you like it? This is what daddy has won for you," Pablo kissed his daughter and said with a smile.

"Thank you, Daddy!"

His ten-year-old daughter kissed her father and called out sweetly.

"Brother!"

At that moment, his own younger brother, Robert Escobar, came over, looking urgent. He was one of the founders and the accountant of the Drug Group Medellin, and after his brother's death, he chose to switch industries to enter the mobile phone business. He launched a mobile phone named after his brother,

and later, when Netflix shot "Narcos," he even demanded a compensation of one billion dollars.

Pablo gave him a glance, his smile fading slightly, and handed his daughter off to a nearby nanny, "Daddy will come to play with you in a bit, go play for now."

The daughter obediently nodded her head.

When the nanny had walked far away, Pablo turned around, his expression somewhat dissatisfied, "Can't it wait until tomorrow? Today is my daughter's birthday."

Robert Escobar blurted out anxiously, "Pepe Lusa is dead, blown up in London!!"

The typically calm gaze of the Medellin boss suddenly turned fierce. His hand, originally reaching to grab a cigarette, shot towards Robert upon hearing this news, causing him to shudder, "An organization called Hydra has claimed responsibility."

"Hydra?"

Pablo muttered to himself, then angrily kicked over the coffee table. The distant guests all looked on curiously, only to see him grabbing his brother by the collar, like an enraged lion.

Bystanders quickly averted their eyes.

But they were still very curious, what on earth had happened?

"To hell with Hydra, what is this, Marvel? Surely, someone wants to screw us over. Damn it! It must be that son of a bitch Mexican."

Robert's face turned red with the indignity of being held up by his elder brother like this, feeling that he was losing face, but he didn't dare retort. He stammered, "Victor also made a statement opposing this kind of action, it shouldn't... it shouldn't be him."

"Bullshit! Does Victor dare to admit it? He's orchestrated a terrorist attack; does he dare acknowledge it? Is your head filled with nothing but dog shit?!" Pablo cursed angrily.

Robert could feel the unusual gazes from the guests nearby, and he couldn't help but feel a bit resentful. After all, he was still a human being, and shouldn't be reprimanded so harshly.

Was Medellin solely your achievement?!

Ever since the American Drug Association supported drug traffickers in securing a foothold in Southern Mexico, his attitude seemed to have changed, lacking his previous cautiousness. Several times, he even scolded the President of Colombia on television.

Accusing him of overstepping!

If he didn't want to suddenly die the next day, he should just quietly stay in the Official Residence as a mascot.

He's become arrogant!

He also began to be stingy with his subordinates and gradually less generous, himself becoming capricious; many leaders of organizations down the line, if not openly resentful, were at least a bit dissatisfied.

But when he heard these minor complaints, he took it as a lack of respect from his juniors and went so far as to kill their entire families!

Despite Medellin's currently prosperous appearance, Robert and relatives like Pepe Lusa knew that compared to the neighboring Cali Cartel, they fell short!

It seemed he was full of self-satisfaction.

"Retaliate! Retaliate!"

"Blast Victor to death!" Pablo said in a suppressed voice.

Robert: ???

You want me to take down Victor?

I'm just an accountant; I can take the fall and go to jail for you, no problem, but you want me to take on such a grand task.

Your brother, I really don't have the capability!

"Don't we have missiles? Fire them off, bomb from the southern region all the way to Tijuana, no matter what, we must make him see some color. Pepe Lusa's death cannot be in vain."

Pablo released his grip, his eyes fierce like those of a man-eater, and lowered his voice so only the two brothers could hear, "Whether or not Victor did this, for us, we need to vent our rage. Otherwise, everyone will think the Medellin Cartel and the American Drug Association are pushovers."

Sorry!

Victor, you take the blame.

So that's how it is.