Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 799 - 436 Young man, you must be hungry._2
799: Chapter 436: “Young man, you must be hungry.”_2
799: Chapter 436: “Young man, you must be hungry.”_2
“What’s your name?”
“Basong Chalumpeng.”
“Niang Songxi.”
“Stick with me, you won’t regret it.”
Mexico City, the golf course inside the National Palace.
Victor, wearing a hat, stood stiffly with sunglasses on, holding his breath as he gently pushed the ball with a club.
The ball slowly rolled into the hole.
Clap, clap, clap…
Nearby, Casare, also wearing a hat, applauded and said, “Boss, your technique has improved so quickly.
It won’t be long before you can play in professional leagues.”
Victor handed the club to the caddie.
“My technique?
It’s like a drug dealer selling candy—completely winging it.
I have no idea how the ball went in, purely luck.”
Laughing together, the two walked back to the lounge.
The waiter had prepared drinks and warm long-sleeved clothes. freeweɓnøvel.com
“But I still prefer fishing.
I’m a country bumpkin, grew up poor in a rural area, and never got used to stuff like this.”
Playing golf was largely to integrate into this circle.
But somewhere along the line, this sport got labeled as “gentlemanly” and “high-class.” If that’s the case, flying planes must be a centuries-old tradition too.
Yet, Victor didn’t need anyone’s approval.
At his level, whatever he liked became high-class.
Word is, he’s into fishing, so many people have started learning how to fish.
This is what they call “following the leader.”
Which is why, at his position, even deciding on a hobby becomes complicated.
Casare nodded with a laugh, “Boss, back when we were in prison, kicking a ball around was way more fun than all this.”
“Nowadays, the moment I open my eyes, it’s work—today this state wants financial aid, tomorrow that state needs subsidies.
My head’s spinning every day.”
As they chatted, Jeff Bennett came running over from afar.
Victor joked, “I’m no better.
Someday when I retire, I’ll find a more stable place to live.”
“General, intel from Thailand.”
The Director of the Mexico Counterintelligence General Bureau, panting heavily, reported, “Our personnel have successfully made contact with Georgia and infiltrated.
According to the plan, they’ll stay close to him.”
“Well done.
Seal their files—no one is allowed to access information about them without explicit orders from you or me.”
“Understood!”
“Boss, why not just kill Georgia?
Eliminating him would boost morale, leave the Gulf Group leaderless, and deal a significant blow to the Southern Regime.”
“Jeff, explain to Casare,” Victor said with a smile.
Jeff Bennett nodded and said, “Two days before the operation, we turned a key confidant—one of Southern Government ‘Deputy Defense Minister’ Endric Vinicius’ cousins.”
“He disclosed some interesting information: apparently, his cousin once asked him to write a letter to the United Nations Drug Control Agency.
That letter contained Georgia’s movements.
Based on his description, Endric and Arturo intend to use us to eliminate Georgia, thereby consolidating their grip on power.”
“But he also mentioned that his cousin actually despises Arturo and dreams of ruling solo.
If Georgia dies in Thailand, rumors will spread in the Yucatan Peninsula that Arturo orchestrated his demise, forcing them into infighting.
They’ll then exploit the chaos to gain the upper hand.”
Casare furrowed his brow and chuckled bitterly, “Hold on, this back-and-forth is making my head spin.”
“Their internal dynamics are far from unified.
After discussions within the Counterintelligence Bureau, we believe keeping Georgia alive is the better move.
When he returns, he’ll inevitably clash with Arturo.
If a large-scale internal conflict erupts, reclaiming the South will be within our grasp.”
“And the purpose of planting people is…?”
Victor cut in, “When you have time, read ‘Romance of the Three Kingdoms.’ I have to say, China is an extraordinary nation with deep history.
You’ll find plenty of strategies in there that can be applied today.”
“Though those operatives saved Georgia, they’ll never penetrate the upper echelons because of Ethan Hunt.
With Cali Cartel enforcing rigorous background checks on high-level members, it’s essentially impossible.”
“But if you identify his weaknesses, it becomes remarkably easy.”
Victor glanced at Jeff Bennett, who promptly added, “The Intelligence Bureau’s psychological team has been studying him for over seven months.
He’s incredibly intelligent but suffers from extreme arrogance and a lack of parental affection during childhood.”
“His father, Abrego, only cared about smuggling and making money.
His mother and twin sister were gunned down by rivals, leaving him to grow up in an environment of utter isolation.
Such individuals are classified in psychology as having a ‘maternal love-deprived personality type.”
“Now imagine a woman—caring for him, cooking, worrying about his daily life, even pampering him in every way.
What would happen?”
Casare furrowed his brow.
“Dependency?”
“Perhaps at first, he’d resist or feel uncomfortable.
But once she breaks through his defenses, he’ll become deeply reliant on her.”
Oh~
Bait the guy!
All that talk boils down to seducing Georgia.
“How can we ensure our operative gets into his heart?”
Jeff Bennett shrugged.
“This calls for professionals.
At the Counterintelligence Bureau, we’ve established a ‘Romance Division,’ recruiting over twenty specialists, including relationship experts, men with over 20 exes, and women skilled at bouncing from boyfriend to boyfriend.
We’re even considering appointing Ethan Hunt as a special consultant.”
Oh, with that player onboard, it’s as good as done.
The intelligence departments are like hidden dragons and crouching tigers.
Ethan Hunt, the “God of Guns,” is supposedly touring the world with a Kennedy family widow.
They might even meet her family soon…
It’s just unfair—he’s charming, handsome, skilled, and eloquent.
But on second thought, the notion of having someone scheming against you, backed by an entire team strategizing, sent shivers down Casare’s spine.
Isn’t this just like modern-day socialites?
Trying to marry into wealthy families with a team of people coordinating lies for them.
Humans are the scariest creatures.
“Once we secure Georgia’s heart, and someone swoops in for a dramatic love triangle—perhaps sealing the deal, what happens then?”
“Honeytrap?” Casare raised a brow.
Jeff Bennett nodded, “A man’s possessiveness over a woman he’s been with can be terrifyingly strong.
Crimes of passion aren’t rare at all…”
“But what if Arturo Desena doesn’t fall for it?”
“Well, his father’s a whole different story.
That man’s a notorious predator who’s used Arturo’s name to assault countless women, even forcing married ones after having their husbands killed.
He’d snatch women off the streets just because they looked pretty.”
“His father’s just a common drug trafficker who rose to fame unexpectedly, but lacks his son’s restraint.”
At that moment, Casare suddenly realized…
Holy crap, so the honeytrap isn’t targeting Arturo—it’s targeting his father?
Be honest with yourself—don’t you already know if your dad is a skirt-chaser?
If such an incident occurs, would Arturo actually hand his dad over to Georgia for punishment?
Absolutely not!
Add to that the “assassination” spark, can anyone keep their cool?
What would your underlings think of you?
They’d definitely create chaos and bloodshed.
Casare’s face stiffened.
Damn, intelligence agents truly have no humanity, pulling off such filthy schemes.
But he didn’t outright object—they weren’t targeting him, after all.
“If it can be resolved without bloodshed, that’s obviously best.
Raising the odds of success in going south minimizes unnecessary casualties.
I want my soldiers to return safely, after all.”
Victor stood up and said.
Silence enveloped Casare and the others.
“Let’s go.
Lunch break is over; time to get back to work.”
The group followed behind Victor.
Casare suddenly leaned closer to Jeff Bennett, asking, “How did you manage to bribe Endric’s cousin?
Money wouldn’t matter to him, right?”
Clown grinned slyly.
“Endric’s mom had an affair with that cousin.
We have photos.”
Casare: ????
Ravens seemed to fly overhead.
“How old is his mom?”
“67.”
“And the cousin?”
“23.”
At that moment, even the well-read Casare was rendered speechless.
What could he say?
The most he could muster was an awkward laugh and a simple comment:
“Young man must’ve been hungry.”
After a pause, he emphasized, “Starving, actually.”
…
