J. Edgar Hoover Building!

Senior Assistant Pearson had just started work, and his coffee hadn't even begun brewing when his boss called him into the office.

"Sir, you called for me," he said as he pushed the door open, seeing Floyd I. Clarke smoking a cigarette.

Clarke pointed at the chair in front of him, motioning him to sit, "This morning, a kidnapping case was sent up from the police station below. The victims are White House Secretary Lobelia Gault and her best friend. They were abducted in front of a bar yesterday."

"This case has now been handed over to us, and the White House is taking it very seriously."

Pearson nodded slightly, "Was it the Soviets?"

That was his first reaction.

Americans had been fighting with the Soviets for decades, each side calling the other "Beast!" in their media outlets.

Since the Millennium, Russians had been quiet for a long time, otherwise, they might have been involved in something messy.

To Pearson's surprise, Clarke shook his head, flipping through a copy of "The Ugly French" on his desk, "We've done a lot of work, visited many of her colleagues, and found that she had a phone conversation with someone before leaving work, and according to her colleagues, there was a dispute."

Pearson raised an eyebrow. His extensive career at the FBI had helped him sniff something suspicious.

"Who?"

"Victor Carlos Vieri!"

It was as if the air in the room had suddenly gone quiet.

"The White House believes the Northern Army in Mexico's advances are threatening the interests of local American businessmen and similarly..." Clarke leaned forward, "it's harming the interests of the U.S. Government."

"But isn't the drug prohibition a joint proposal by the US-Mexico governments?"

"Drugs don't threaten the United States, but a peaceful, competitive, and exciting neighbor can make the U.S. restless."

Pearson knew that Victor was being abandoned!

Why abandon him, the reasons are complex, but for Americans, if you don't obey, you don't perform well as a dog, or you are downright useless, you are like a piece of toilet paper in a latrine, only good for wiping.

"Is the U.S. going to war with the Northern Army?"

Clarke looked at him, surprised, and let out a laugh, "Why would you think that? War is never a beautiful thing, and the White House intends to send a delegation to Mexico to discuss the scope of drug prohibition with Victor. The FBI plans to send you."

A coup?

Pearson's first thought was—could Victor possibly kill us all?

That's Mexico.

Just mess with them, and they'd bury people alive in the desert, tsk tsk...

But it should, possibly, probably, maybe not happen.

What's the difference between that and declaring war?

"Who's the team leader?" Pearson asked.

"Donald Rumsfeld. The White House has appointed him as the special envoy."

Clarke smiled, "At least your security is guaranteed. Could Victor possibly bury his own girlfriend's grandfather alive? Go with confidence."

Pearson smiled awkwardly, nodding, "What is my task?"

"Do more, make more mistakes. Do less, make fewer mistakes. Just stand there and listen."

Pearson nodded, chatted a few words with Clarke, then walked out of the office, shutting the door behind him, gazing out the window at the gathering dark clouds.

"It looks like it's going to thunder."

...

Juarez!

The drug traffickers, who had planned to abandon the city, suddenly became energized, swearing to defend their homeland!

To drive out Victor, the destroyer, the tyrant.

"Victory belongs to the people of Juarez!" Find adventures at My Virtual Library Empire

Who knows where they got their drugs.

But surely someone was fanning the flames behind the scenes; otherwise, these drug traffickers would have fled long ago.

However, the first thing in defending the city was to mobilize the populace.

Like wolves and tigers, the drug traffickers drove pick-up trucks into the slums, holding AK47s and wearing masks, jumping out of the vehicles and bursting into houses.

Dragging grown men out!

Behind them, women cried and wailed, some even knelt on the ground begging for mercy.

"Join us in resisting the invasion! Resist the devouring from the Northern Tyrant, we must protect our homeland!" said a muscular man covering his face, using a luxury item from France, appearing quite wealthy.

But no matter how much he cheered on top, the people below showed no reaction.

This angered the leader. He jumped off the vehicle, pointed at a young boy, and asked, "Are you going to resist the Northern Army?!"

The boy was slightly dazed, and the parents behind him quickly pushed his head down, eagerly answering, "Willing, willing!"

The leader's eyes flashed, he gestured to his subordinate, who handed over the AK47. He stuffed the weapon into the boy's hands, grabbed his shoulders, turned him towards his parents, who were crying miserably, "Kill them!"

"No, I can't..."

"Then I'll kill you!" The leader pulled out a pistol, pressing it against the boy's temple, thumbing the safety, "Kill them!!"@@novelbin@@

The child cried out, "Mom, mom, I'm scared..."

Bang!

A gunshot!

The drug trafficker ruthlessly pulled the trigger, blowing away the child's temple with a direct shot.

His mother screamed and rushed over, only to be shot dead by the surrounding traffickers, her body collapsing dramatically, yet her eyes still stared fixedly at her child on the ground.

They...

Just wanted to survive.

"Men join the Rebels, women are managed collectively, gentlemen! If we find you're not actively resisting, I'm sorry, but your families will have to die!"

Men of all ages were dragged onto pick-ups, the traffickers forcefully conscripting soldiers.

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