After Casare left, several senior staff members from the News Bureau leaned in and asked Augustine Przybylski, "Director, what should we do?"
"What should we do? Either get someone to make coffins and wait for death, or flip this entire Northern region upside down for me. I'm telling you, if the boss isn't happy, I'm not happy, and if I'm not happy, do you still want to be happy? When I die, I'll take you with me."
Augustine Przybylski cursed at them one by one, pointing fingers, and left in a fit of rage.
The subordinates exchanged glances.
"Let's do it, brothers, the Director really might do it."
Mexico. Tijuana. Communications Building.
The colorful lights were bright, illuminating the surroundings.
If it were the past, many people would come out to stand here and admire the night view, which was considered quite beautiful.
The ground was covered in filth, garbage bins were overturned, and there was a stench everywhere.
With more than 36 floors, in Mexico, this was considered a high-rise building.
This belonged to Mexico's richest man—Carlos Slim, who controlled the country's entertainment, media, communications, electricity, and more.
But Victor didn't touch him.
Because he had Americans standing behind him.
The Yanks didn't like Mexican land, but they liked the economy, with 95% of the country's money-making assets in the hands of American businesses.
At that moment, in the penthouse suite.
The room was filled with smoke, and five exotic women of different skin colors were dancing, not a stitch of clothing on them.
Several men were sitting on the sofa, hot and bothered for either the women or the temperature.
"Right now, that fat pig must be panicking," said a man with a cigar between his lips, dressed in a white suit, looking smug with his legs crossed, his fingers restlessly pointing.
"Exactly! Governor? Without our CIA's care, he's nothing. He's been getting rich off us, so his position won't be stable!"
The people sitting beside him could only muster a forced smile.
"This is just the beginning. Rebels and drug trafficker allies from the south will take this opportunity to strike back at Sonora State and Sinaloa State, and our local hires will provide support."
"20 days! We will have overturned Victor's reign by then!"
"Once he's overthrown, whoever the CIA says is in charge, will be in charge!"
The few people sitting opposite him brightened up, exchanging glances, "Mr. Malcolm, if he gets overthrown, what about the soldiers and the wealth..."
"You help us, and the CIA never lets down its supporters..."
"Once Victor is dead, you, you, all of you will be the heroes!"
The CIA employee named Malcolm laughed.
The door was kicked open. Jeff Bennett, head of the News Bureau's first division, walked in with his left hand in his pocket and a cigarette in his right, looking at them, "Yo, having a party? Planning to believe in Jesus or in Victor?"
The moment Malcolm saw his smile, he stiffened, quickly turning his head to the others in the room, only to see a businessman pick up a phone from the table and smash it down on his head!
He stumbled unsteadily from the blow!
"Damn it! With just you lot, you want to overthrow Victor? I'm telling you, I am a patriot, damn the CIA!" he shouted loudly, his eyes still on Jeff Bennett, who had an amused expression. With that, he regained his spirit and hit even harder.
The other businessmen were all shocked, looking at him.
Fuck, brother, you turn against us without saying?
Are we still brothers?
What about making money together?
Is this how you do it?
"Throw them out," Jeff Bennett said, glancing at the frightened women huddled in the corner with a frown, "The General has said many times to be frugal, and yet you all act so extravagantly."
"Just keep the Yank."
The agents behind him rushed forward, picked up the businessmen, and opened a window.
The group of men screamed heart-wrenchingly, crying and struggling incessantly.
"I'm a law-abiding citizen! I'm loyal to General Victor!!!"
"I'm Mexican, I'm Mexican!"
One by one, four men were thrown out.
Not too high, just under a hundred meters. With some luck, they might possibly not end up too badly off.
Jeff Bennett walked over, patted the stunned businessman, who trembled and his face showed an urge to cry.
"Don't worry, we never lay hands on our own. You're smart."
"Thank...thank you. I'm dumb, I only know one thing, following the General is right."
Jeff Bennett nodded in satisfaction, looking down at Malcolm with a grin on his face.
"Chop off his ten fingers. He laughed too loudly just now!"