MD, they got him to install it!
"Prepare a document for the gentleman to sign," he said to the secretary who was busily working at his side.
The secretary was startled but promptly nodded, quickly bringing the document to Abrego, who passed it to Elvis Salinas, "Sign here, sir."
"Should we ask the Americans?" Elvis whispered.
"No need to ask about such matters. Confronting the Northern Army is our political correctness. Hurry up, we're all waiting for your order," Abrego said impatiently.
Mr. President's face turned slightly red, but he could only hold his nose and sign the order.
"Launch the missile on April 6th. Target: Tijuana!"
"Yes, sir!" The drug traffickers present all stood up and saluted.
Elvis Salinas felt a bit jealous on the side, wondering whether he was the president or Abrego was?
He couldn't even get the secretary outside to listen to him!
Really, the Yanks treated him as a puppet, and these so-called subordinates treated him as a mascot. Could he truly be content with that?
Your stance determines your perspective. Many times, he felt he was destined for this, that if he could lead the Southern Group to defeat the Northern Army, he would certainly be the father of Mexico!
His gaze shifted to the "prime minister," his eyes revealing a trace of dissatisfaction and struggle.
At this moment, Abrego seemed to relish the attention of everyone, even feeling a temptation to replace Elvis!
Why couldn't the Americans make me president?
The Gulf Group hadn't really been impacted, their influence was primarily in the South, and he still controlled many of the channels into and out of Central America and South America, as well as to Canada. In this region, Colombia's Pablo could only choose to cooperate with him.
According to ancient terms, he was the "Regent!"
Below one person, above ten thousand: He would enter court without hurrying, no need to kneel in homage, his name wasn't in the imperial edicts, he could enter the palace with his sword!!
Abrego also had ambitions.
Why should tens of millions of people across the Southern states be handed over to a child?
If Victor could stand firm in the North, he certainly could take his place in the South.
No one was more noble than anyone else.
Ethan Hunt just quietly watched this scene. The Southern drug traffickers were not harmonious; could he stir up some trouble?
Cause some internal conflict?
Elvis Salinas didn't seem like someone who would be content with stability.
After the meeting, just as Ethan Hunt was about to leave, someone called out to him, inviting him for a drink. He smiled bitterly and declined, explaining he was recently inflamed.
Back in his office, he passed the message out through a special channel.
Looking at the sea outside.
Ethan Hunt felt a bit tired.
The life of an undercover was really not easy.
Tijuana received the intelligence immediately, placing it on Victor's desk.
Victor laughed, "Do they have more missiles than us? Strike first! Don't we have the coordinates of several of their missile bases? Blow them up, and I would love to see what they'll bomb with tomorrow!"
George Smiley hurriedly nodded.
Unequal information meant starting the war at a disadvantage.
The drug traffickers were always fighting with their pants down.
"General, there's something else..."
"The United Nations will send a delegation of 30 people to investigate the bombings of civilians by the Northern Army during the war. It includes departments of human rights, military, etc., they will comprehensively assess us."
"The leader is the director of the Office of Peace Affairs, an... American."
Victor tapped the table dissatisfiedly, "Our matters don't need their assessment. Are they planning to interfere with our drug control issue?"
"It's a draft passed by the Security Council," George Smiley said with a wry smile.
The Mexican drug war was too outrageous.
Missiles, bombers, and so on were all brought into play. The United Nations couldn't just watch; they had to make some moves.
Of course, Victor didn't believe that the Yanks had nothing to do with it.
Victor narrowed his eyes.
Subconsciously, he grabbed the ashtray on the corner of the desk.
He really wanted to crack someone's skull open!