Working as a police officer in Mexico

Victor washed his face before returning to the office, his expression once again serene and dashing, his face adorned with a gentle smile.

"Sorry, I had a bit of an urgent work matter just now," he said, apologizing to Forest Gan.

The other party was clever too, not pressing further, knowing that whatever could make a person in power look so troubled was no small matter.

It was like the "Emperor Mei Xizong Ling" looking perplexed when he heard the sound of a plane overhead while teaching a model class to students in a Florida elementary school—his expression was anything but ordinary.

They are just calmer than the average person.

But not superheroes.

Do they really believe that Colonel Ka wasn't afraid when he died?

"Sir, what do you think of my proposal?" Forest Gan didn't dwell on the matter and brought the conversation back, looking expectantly at Victor.

This gave Victor a bit of a headache.

Originally, he thought this guy was a... compliant person, but clearly he was bold!

He wanted to establish a "Secret Society" in the United States, like The Eulogian Club!

Actually, the society was founded at Yale University's Skull and Bones Society, which was not as mysterious and strange as some novelists described it to be—a mere elite clique that happened to produce three American presidents and two Supreme Court justices.

Besides that, what else do they have?

Secret societies are fundamentally about using each other's abilities and influence to help achieve their desired goals.

Is it for hosting X-parties?

If an American political elite was sitting in front of Victor, he might be interested, but just a retired soldier still in school, potential is just potential.

However, luckily Forest Gan didn't say he wanted to rebuild "Black Panther," otherwise, Victor would have already sent him away.

He tactfully declined the invitation to join the society, "Ah Gan, I can't get involved with such things in Mexico, but I fully support your endeavor. Since Yale University has their Skull and Bones Society, you can start a society at Cornell University, recruit some promising talents, and I can fully fund it."

In fact, every Yale University alumni gathering is a CIA internal team-building event, with founder Robert Lovett being a member of the Skull and Bones Society, and the whole CIA building like a "haunted house."

Victor wanted to be a financier.

Although Forest Gan was a little disappointed he couldn't recruit Victor, hearing that he would provide funding made it all good!

"By the way, I have one condition," Victor suddenly said.

"Please speak."

"No Black people."

Forest Gan's expression turned odd, but he agreed—after all, it's not really a loss to exclude African Americans.

"What do you plan to name it?"

"Blue Gold Society!"

Victor was stunned, then heard Forest Gan say, "I hope, under this piece of sky, all evil will scatter, and all the wicked will receive the punishment they deserve, all for a clear blue sky!"

A very idealistic purpose.

Let's hope...

You still have that zeal twenty years from now.

"Then you'll need to climb up high, Ah Gan. What is your family's status in the United States?"

"My father was just an ordinary farmer, but he has passed away. I am of Irish descent, supposedly having come to America in the 17th century."

That's white-collar, not nobility.

That's not easy to pull off in the United States.

In Europe and America, bloodline matters a lot, while in Southeast Asia, only dogs care about bloodlines, but there's no helping it—when in Rome, do as the Romans do.

"Then we need to find you a forefather!" murmured Victor, starting to think hard about any famous Americans of Irish descent.

Find a forefather? Ah Gan didn't quite understand what he meant, looking bewildered.

Finally, Victor thought of someone.

"The person that led your family to rise was James Buchanan! Your family came to America in the 15th century, understand?"

That was the 15th President of the United States.

Ah Gan also realized that this was about adding a bit of "noble" blood to his identity, and while he had no moral scruples about it, he didn't feel uncomfortable, only...

"James Buchanan is said not to have had a wife."

"Having no wife doesn't mean having no mistress. Your family could be the product of him and any woman. But if anyone asks you outside, just insist that you are a descendant of Buchanan. It's only an opener; the real foothold you'll use is the US Dollar."

Such a tricky maneuver—MD—left Ah Gan almost speechless.

"Don't worry, I'll have someone clean up your background. Remember, you are now a descendant of James Buchanan!"

After almost four hundred years, who the hell knows the truth? If Lincoln wasn't so famous, you could even claim to be Lincoln's illegitimate child.

Those nobles don't dare to check DNA; otherwise, would their hundreds of years of so-called family history really exist? Who knows, maybe an old bull once plowed their field. What matters is just this "title."

Victor patted Ah Gan's shoulder, "Come, have a drink, descendant of the President.

Ah Gan quickly picked up a glass of red wine, their glasses gently clinked together.

They celebrated...

Ah Gan found his great... great great great grandfather.

...

Late at night, the heavy rain in Tijuana became even more ferocious.

It was like heaven was peeing, only with a bit too much stored up.

In that van...

George Smiley was now certain that Alejandro had betrayed them!

That damn CIA had given the other side KPIs.

They demanded that he find out exactly where Victor's weapons were coming from!

Next, to bribe army personnel.

Thirdly, to plant a listening device in Victor's office.

"I hope you can do it, of course, rest assured, we at the CIA pay up front. Your daughter will attend the best private school, with the costs covered by us, and we will arrange the best priest for her masses. You will get over 20,000 US Dollars per month in cash rewards..."

"Thank you!" Alejandro nodded.

In the surveillance car, George Smiley slammed his bottle of mineral water against the car, causing it to bounce off and hit another employee, who was so startled they didn't dare make a sound.

This...

Twenty thousand US dollars!

Can't Mr. Victor afford this price?

Just the "Integrity Plan" of Baja California, on its own, would bring in more than 100,000 US dollars a year for Alejandro!

That's just the official side of it.

Otherwise, what do you think Victor relies on to quickly stabilize the other departments below?

With treatment and a big stick, obey and you get candy, disobey and you get killed, but taking a moment to reflect, George Smiley felt that Mr. Victor had already treated them quite well.

But comrades-in-arms who are like-minded and can persevere are few, some are motivated by interest, others are just simple and short-sighted; only those who are in full control and can continue to endure are the true idealists.

Yet, this path is full of thorns; as you advance, the number of companions dwindles, someone always falls behind.

"Boss, their conversation is over."

George Smiley snapped back to reality and turned to another employee, "What did Jason say?"

"No news yet."

But before he had finished speaking, a mobile phone rang. The employee quickly answered, "Hello? Arresting a CIA agent? Alright!"

"Headquarters says, 'Catch him! Alejandro... first, keep him in the villa.'"

George Smiley gestured, "Move out!"

An employee pulled open the car door, and he stepped out of the car. Someone behind tried to hand him an umbrella, but George Smiley pushed it away, "Fuck that, no need to be so fussy."

He unbuttoned his jacket and, with his team, charged towards Alejandro's villa.

In the rainy night...

Dress shoes splashing through puddles, George Smiley had a cigarette clamped in his mouth, "Open the door!"

Two employees performed a tidy maneuver, vaulting over the wall and pulling the gate open, just as a surprised servant had bolted from a side door, they were confronted with George Smiley flashing his badge: "MDIN! We're on a case!"

The CIA agent inside, along with Alejandro, had heard nothing due to the heavy rain and were just about to shake hands and leave.

That's when the door was violently kicked open from outside.

Both were startled greatly!

"Mr. Alejandro, you are in trouble!"

Upon seeing George Smiley, the man's eyes brimmed with terror, and his complexion turned pale as death, while the pinned CIA agent still talked tough, "What are you doing, I'm an American businessman, what is this~!!"

"Businessman?"

George Smiley stepped forward and delivered a kick, grabbing the man's head and brutally smashing it on the coffee table with his teeth, causing them to loosen immediately. The pain made him howl.

"CIA!"

"This is MDIN territory!"

"Just wait until we take you to our water cell for a visit, down there we've got some little treasures that are particularly fond of your pale, tender butt!"

George Smiley sneered.

The MDIN water cell had recently been built; it wasn't large, and to call it a water cell was somewhat of a misnomer—it was essentially a glass tank, just big enough for a person to stand in without drowning.

The tortured was stripped naked, smothered in secret spices, then dropped into the tank where two or three red-bellied piranhas were placed below, allowing a close-up view of which part the fish would bite off first!

According to the statistics of Mexico's news department.

Twenty percent of drug traffickers subjected to this would be bitten on the butt first, seventy percent would lose their genitals, and the remaining ten percent would suffer other parts being bitten off.

The flesh of a CIA agent stinks, but who knows which part the red-bellied piranhas prefer. Enjoy new adventures from empire

As for death?

Don't worry, adrenaline is useful.

The Mexican intelligence department has long been a partner with medical units; if you're in agony, they'll give you a shot to ensure you can watch as your lower half is devoured by red-bellied piranhas with your eyes wide open.

"Drag him away!"

George Smiley waved his hand, and two employees grabbed the CIA agent by the arms and began dragging him out. Seeing that he was still trying to walk, one of them pulled out a small hammer and savagely smashed it against his knee!

His leg was broken on the spot.

You thought you could walk out like a CIA agent?

Do you know what it's like to be dragged out like a dead dog?

The screams were so horrific that Alejandro became panicked, looking at George Smiley with desperate eyes, "I, I didn't know he was with the CIA!"

Pitiful and incompetent words.

"Keep that for Mr. Victor. He'll come to see you soon enough, maybe, just maybe, he'll listen to your explanation."

After saying that, he stepped outside, giving instructions to the remaining employees to keep a tight watch on the surroundings, making sure the man didn't get away!

But about ten minutes after he left,

A gunshot was heard from inside the house!

Bang!!

George Smiley was taken aback, but his expression changed, and he rushed into the house.

Not finding the man in the living room, a group of people stormed upstairs and, upon reaching the study, saw Alejandro lying face down on the desk with a Winchester Magnum revolver on the floor.

Blood was oozing from under the desk.

He had shot himself in the temple!

Is there any saving this TMD?

George Smiley's face soured, "Fuck!"

Alejandro...

Had he committed suicide?

Where the hell did you get that much backbone from?

"Hurry! Inform Mr. Victor!"

...