Pablo finally smiled when he heard these words. His stress wasn't as minimal as he made it appear; if the Americans hadn't been distracted by external pressures, reportedly trouble in the Middle East, he probably would have faced a far greater onslaught.
As for whether this North American Drug Trafficking Association would upset the United States?
Damn, when had drug syndicates ever made the United States happy?
The CIA didn't even have shares in the Medellin Cartel, so what were they to say?
"If possible, I'd like to get in touch with the Cali Cartel," Aguilar said, glancing at him.
Pablo squinted; he despised hearing the name of this rival, but he knew he needed more friends on this path.
Also, the Cali Cartel had a nickname: "Latin KGB." Even the CIA had to admire their intelligence work.
The Cali Cartel owned telecommunications companies, enabling them to use the technology to tap into CIA and officials' calls. They had actually done it before, and they had about 5,000 taxi drivers as informants. All foreigners were sure to be tracked.
How powerful was that?
Their distribution networks spanned the Americas, Europe, and Asia. Many employees didn't even realize they were trafficking drugs, believing they worked for a Fortune 500 company.
"Okay, I will have Ochoa contact the Gilbert and Miguel brothers, but I'm not sure if they will join."
Aguilar let out a sigh of relief, "They should understand, it's the trend!"
If the Cali Cartel didn't want to be excluded from the entire North American drug market, they had no choice but to join.
"Smart people should wake up!"
Pablo nodded, "After you've rounded up the people, I hope we can have a formal meeting."
"Let's meet at the new Attorney General's office building in Colombia."
Aguilar thought for a moment, nodded, and picked up the wine glass next to him as a toast, "Here's to our more glorious future."
Pablo also downed his red wine in one go, pointing at the models, "They will all be yours for the night, I hope you maintain a good body."
Looking at those women, Aguilar's eyes also shone with eagerness.
Meanwhile, Victor had returned to his "place of rise," Plateau Prison!
Drug traffickers had cleaned up the ground early in the morning, even the weeds in the crevices were removed.
Banners were even hung on the walls!
The jail guards put on new uniforms and lined up in two rows. As soon as Victor got out of the car, applause erupted and continued for a long time.
Victor smiled and nodded at them, then said to Harris beside him, "Looks like everyone is energetic. How are the drug traffickers? Still obedient?"
Harris nodded, "Most are quite obedient, but there are a few thorns."
"How sharp of thorns?"
"They're reluctant to work on the sewing machines, and they've even damaged them several times, causing not a small loss. Moreover, the drug lords from the Third District have not paid their sanitation fees for a long time. Their external gangs refuse to pay us."
The cartels outside had of course refused to pay because Victor had already fought with them.
"Not giving money? That's difficult. What day is it today?" Victor mumbled to himself.
Casare instantly understood.
"Boss, it's my grandmother's 100th birthday."
"Mm, we should make the old lady's day comfortable. Go, take out a few from the Third District. I want them eliminated to celebrate her birthday!"
Casare next to him kept thanking him, and Harris glanced at him, thinking, Damn, how can this bitch become more and more despicable? It's been a while since I saw him, and he's gotten more perverse. Your grandmother's birthday? Why don't you mention your aunt pregnant again.
Or you could say it's your cousin Dragan's death anniversary.
Only if I could be as shrewd as him.
It's just talent, I suppose.